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Compromise

By: midnightowl



Hi all, this is my first story submission, although I have been reading on here and writing for myself for years. I appreciate your constructive criticism. Thanks.

My wife and I had been married for six years when I finally brought up the subject of dominating her in the bedroom.

There was no huge trigger or anything. We were still working, as far as couples go. You know what I mean--we were spending time together, still connecting and communicating, little squabbles about purchasing furniture or whether to go to her cousin's birthday party or my coworker's baby shower, but nothing major. We were just as happy as the day we'd met, and after such a long time together, that's certainly saying something.

Even our sex life was pretty great. Brenda--that's my wife--was staying in great shape, going to yoga twice a week and running or lifting weights a couple other times every week. I'd like to modestly say that I was still looking pretty good, myself. I'd go to the gym and lift weights too, and for the past couple of years I'd been paying special attention to my abs. It's Brenda's favorite part and age was catching up with me, so it took a little investment. It's true, we had settled into something of a routine when it came down to our actual "moves," but it was comfortable and I wasn't bored or anything. Plus, it still felt amazing, every time I was with her.

So no, this idea of mine wasn't born out of monotony or a desperate last ditch to save our marriage, or anything like that.

Honestly, it was something I'd thought about for, well, as long as I'd been thinking about sex, which was a damn long time when you came down to it. I can still remember those adolescent years as clear as day--reading about it, masturbating while I thought about it, watching videos on it when I thought my parents wouldn't catch me. I never said anything to anyone, certain that it was deviant or, at the very least weird. I figured I'd grow out of it. I mean, I was a teenage boy.

But as it turned out, I didn't grow out of it. As I got older, it just interested me more. And all of my "research," as it were, allowed me to refine my ideas on the subject. I became more specific about the types of videos I liked to watch and stories I liked to read, began to imagine with more detail the scenes I'd like to enact myself.

It wasn't an activity I found much opportunity to indulge in, although there were times here and there. To me, it was something of a sacred act. I thought it would require a real connection, and I wasn't interested in just jumping into it with any random girl I was dating. That seemed like a great way to get girls to break up with you, or if you really fucked up, get them to call the cops.

So for most all of my relationships, I was just a regular guy who liked regular sex, however he could get it. And hey, who's kidding who--that's true, too.

But recently, my imagination had been getting out of hand. I was reading more stories on the subject--something about video porn felt dishonest to Brenda, but she could hardly blame me for reading text on a page, right? They soothed my urges, to a degree, but they also enhanced them. And now I had a loving partner, one with whom I'd built years of trust, someone who I really and truly loved. This was the time, right?

And so I decided to bring it up to her. I planned it out: dinner at her favorite restaurant, a nice bottle of wine. I even brought flowers.

I know, it might be kind of strange to wine and dine a woman with the intent of asking her to allow you to dominate her, tie her up, and otherwise do wicked things to her. But, if anything, that might be the best time to try a little romance.

The waiter dropped off dessert and I let Brenda take a big bite before taking a deep breath and jumping in, head first.

"Listen, Brenda. There's something I've been thinking about for a long time." I resisted the urge to fidget, telling myself to look her straight in the eye and arrange my expression into something resembling calm but serious. "Our sex life is great, but I want to try something different."

She kept chewing and raised an eyebrow. Her way of telling me to go on.

"I want to be dominant in the bedroom."

I knew from my research that there was a lot of different terminology for what I was thinking of. But, unless for some reason Brenda had been doing the same kind of research, this seemed like the most straightforward way to get the idea across.

It seemed like it did. Both of Brenda's eyebrows raised this time. She finished her bite, swallowed, and considered me for a few moments. "What do you mean? Like, always?"

"No, not always," I told her. "Just once in a while."

She pressed her lips together, drawing my gaze down to them for a moment. "I don't know, Adam. It doesn't sound that interesting to me."

My heart dropped for a moment. "Why not?" I asked evenly.

Brenda swallowed another bite of dessert. "Well, to be honest, it sounds like you'd just stick your dick in my mouth and skullfuck me for a while until you came. What's in it for me?"

I had to chuckle. Brenda had always had a mouth on her, and she'd never been shy about speaking her mind. "That's not exactly what I had in mind." At her accusatory look, I amended, "Well, all right, I suppose a thought along those lines may have occurred to me at one point. But really, it's a bit more than that." 

"What would it entail, then?"

Believe it or not, this was actually already going better than I had expected. I thought there was a small chance she would storm out on me as soon as she heard the word "dominant." Brenda is ... on the independent side.

"That depends," I said. "I have an idea of what I want, but I'm happy to modify it depending on how you feel."

"That doesn't sound very dominant."

"Well, you're my wife. I want you to be happy, too, and if that means I have to compromise a little, that's okay."

Then I leaned forward slightly, still holding her gaze. I let my mind wander towards some of the things I wanted to do to her, and gave her the smallest of smirks. "But trust me. Whatever we decide on, I will be very dominant once we get to the bedroom."

It seemed to work--my beautiful wife shuffled in her seat and bit her lip, a sure sign she was thinking dirty thoughts.

"Fine. Tell me what you're thinking of, and I can voice any objections."

"Well, if we were to do this, I'd like to pick a day. Probably on the weekend. And for that day, I'd like to be the one in charge. In everything. And I'd like you to speak to me respectfully for the duration."

"What do you mean, like, call you sir or master or something?"

"No, not necessarily. But a 'sir' here and there might be nice," I said. "You'd never have to do it in public though, and we could ease into it."

Brenda's eyes widened a little. I've always been more exhibitionist than her. "We'd do this in public?"

"Not necessarily," I said again. "But we could. Really, for the first time, I picture us only trying it for a few hours. To see how it works for both of us."

"What if I don't like something you ask me to do?" she asked.

"Well, you can tell me, and try to convince me otherwise. Still respectfully, if you could," I said. "And I, in turn, would try and convince you to do it. But I don't plan to force you. That would be a different kind of thing."

"Something you're also interested in?"

"Yes. But not right now. I want this more."

Brenda put down her fork and was silent while our waiter swept away the now-empty dessert plate. She was still thinking. "Do you want to hurt me?"

I paused, thinking my answer through before speaking. It wasn't the right time to mention this aloud, but I had a sneaking suspicion that Brenda liked a little bit of pain. She had a ridiculously high pain tolerance, for one thing. And whenever I played with her nipples, she always loved it the most when I twisted them with just a hint of viciousness, although I think she didn't even realize it.

My thoughts settled, I spoke. "Some things we would do might involve pain. But I would try not to go past your limits."

No point in informing her that I did plan to *push* the limits.

"And we can set up a safe word," I added. "Something you say that will make me stop immediately. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. But in this situation, I would want you to try to do everything I ask of you."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

Brenda stayed silent as the check came and I put down my credit card. When the waiter was gone, she voiced another question. "Why do you want this?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? It's something I've always thought about."

"But ... why, exactly?"

"I can't recall any damaging psychological incident in my childhood that might have shaped me this way, if that's what you're asking," I said calmly. "I think you know that I respect women, and certainly that I respect you. I have no urge to degrade you or humiliate you in any way. That's not what this is about for me. It's that idea of control over someone. Or maybe, more specifically, of you voluntarily giving your control up to me. It turns me on in a way that I don't think anything else does."

Brenda nodded, and I could still see hesitation in her every movement. "It's just -- I can't imagine giving up control."

I took her hands, leaning closer across the table again. "I know. And I love that about you. You are a ridiculously independent and strong woman. You are so capable and smart and you can do anything. The fact that you are even considering giving me control, for even one single night, is an honor. And, I might add, really fucking hot."

That got a smile out of her. I sensed impending victory.

"Fine," she said, almost as if she was saying it before she could change her mind. "Next Saturday. From 7 on."

I'll be yours, I wanted her to say, to finish that sentence.

She didn't. But that was okay. She would live it for me, next Saturday. 

***

The day came quickly. Maybe because I'd been anticipating it for what felt like my entire 32 years.

I'd been planning for a good deal of the week. Buying a few items that I needed, and trying to decide among the literally hundreds of ideas that I had. I thought that it shouldn't be anything too challenging. I wanted Brenda to like this. I wanted her to want more.

I'd already decided that if Brenda wasn't into it, it was okay. Like I said, I didn't consider it some desperate need that I had that would leave me forever unfulfilled if I didn't get it. I was happy with my life, and very happy with my wife. I wouldn't risk that for some fantasies.

But I will admit that I really, really wanted her to like it.

We had discussed it a couple more times since that dinner. Setting up a safe word, taking care of some other administrative type details. But mostly, Brenda was trying to figure out what to expect. Was I going to tie her up? Whip her? Make her serve me? I wouldn't answer any of those questions directly. First of all, I wanted her to be surprised. Secondly, I was going to play some of it by ear based on how well she was taking it all, but I didn't want her to necessarily know if I changed my plans.

We had, however, gone over the expectations again. Speak to me respectfully. Try and accomplish everything I asked of her. I'd encouraged her to openly communicate with me, too, to let me know how she was feeling and if there was anything she was hesitant or ecstatic about. And that was pretty much it.

Brenda seemed pretty suspicious that the other shoe was going to drop, and perhaps she was right to be.

At 6:45, Brenda and I were sitting on the couch, watching TV. She'd given up on asking exactly what to expect, but I had been feeling the tension and, hopefully, anticipation, growing in her all day. We weren't speaking much, just letting some mindless sitcom entertain us as we both surreptitiously watched the clock.

7:00 rolled around, as it tends to do. I turned to Brenda and met her eyes, which were wide and beautifully uncertain.

"Go into the bedroom," I told her. "There are some clothes laid out for you on the bed. Put them on. When you're done, kneel on the bed with your legs apart and your hands behind your back, and wait for me."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She nodded, and went.

Really, all that had happened was that I'd asked my wife to change her clothes and wait for me. Such a simple thing. But the context in which this was happening was already having an effect on me. I thought I might break out in a sweat.

I got up and poured myself some whiskey on the rocks.

My wife is, as I've already mentioned, a wonderfully independent woman. Hell, she is both better educated and better paid than I am. I'd spent a lot of time considering potential pitfalls: ways I could scare her off from this thing. I'd come up with a few. She'd mentioned one--"skullfucking," as she'd so charmingly called it. I knew that she had nothing against blowjobs, from experience. I think she had been more rebelling against the concept of serving me, with "nothing in it for her" as she'd put it. If I had to guess, she was more concerned about having to pour me a drink and bring it to me in the study and then clean up after me or anything along those lines.

There was something appealing about the concept of her waiting on me hand and foot in that way. But I wasn't looking for a servant or a sex slave. Some guys are, and that's fine, it's just not me. I wanted something deeper. I couldn't exactly explain what it was, or even describe it to myself. But I was going to try and show both of us. 

It had been five minutes. I forced myself to sit down and wait longer, sipping on my whiskey. I wanted my wife to be kneeling in position for a little while. I was aiming for anticipation. Anxiety. Maybe a little impatience, even. I was certainly feeling all of those things, so I guess it was working on someone at least.

When five more minutes had elapsed I shut off the TV, which I had not been following in the least, and headed to the bedroom.

My wife was in a black bra and panties, kneeling on the bed with her legs parted and her hands behind her back just as instructed. Again, such a simple thing, but the sight was like a punch to the gut.

Candles flickered gently, adding a little ambiance to the low lighting I'd set up in the room. Music was playing in the background--the premium subscription to Pandora that I'd bought this week, and started going when I'd laid out her lingerie. I'd bought the bra and panties this week, so they were new, but not anything too fancy, which had probably surprised her. Actually, the bra was one she already had that I'd always thought looked particularly sexy on her, so I'd just gotten it in black. All week she'd been imagining slutty lingerie of all kinds: corsets, garter belts, stripper heels, the whole works. She knows I'm into that kind of thing. And it's true. And maybe we'd get there.

But for now, this simple satiny black bra and panties suited just fine. I wanted this to work so much that I hadn't even chosen a thong, since I know she hates them. Just a well-cut pair of panties that accentuated her gorgeous ass, and a perfectly-fitting bra that hefted her breasts up just a little. And even though she would've looked great in every accoutrement in the book, she looked goddamn amazing like this.

Still holding my whiskey, I walked around her, drinking in the sight. As I'd mentioned before, my wife has been staying in good shape. She has nicely toned arms and abs, and her current positioning afforded me a great view of them. She was naturally flexible and all of her yoga was only helping, so I knew she would be comfortable in this position, and in much more taxing ones as well. Our bed was firm enough to support her in her efforts.

As I came around the front of her, I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't meet her gaze, just letting it roam over her body. I wondered if it felt like an uncomfortable inspection in her state of undress. I hoped it did.

I frowned when I was directly in front of her. Her knees were apart, it was true, but barely a foot. I tapped one knee with my finger. "I think we can do a better job on these, don't you?"

It was the first thing I'd said to her, and she looked taken aback. Apparently, she didn't know what to say.

"Let me help you," I offered kindly, and pulled her knees further apart. She gasped.

"Better," I said, glancing down. Her toned thighs were no longer providing any sort of barrier, and although her pussy was technically still protected by her panties, it looked much more vulnerable now. There was nothing stopping me from brushing a hand up that thigh and right onto her clit, if I so desired. But I would wait.

"Next time I say to have your legs apart, I expect this," I said. "Do you understand?"

She swallowed and shifted, but otherwise kept her position. "Yes," she said in something not much over a whisper.

At this vantage point, I had a great view of the tops of her breasts. They were the perfect shape and size to me, and I liked that she had some goosebumps at the moment--a sign that she was nervous, hopefully with good nerves that I'd be able to use to my advantage. I continued my circle of inspection, ending slightly out of her view. I settled down in a comfortable chair just slightly behind her, so I was treated to the lovely sight of her profile without her easily being able to see me.

She turned to look at me, her eyebrows raised. I raised mine right back at her and took a sip of whiskey, but said nothing.

"What now?" she asked.

Her tone wasn't particularly disrespectful, but I saw no reason to admit that. "You know, it sounds a little nosy when you ask questions," I told her. "I think if you have more questions, it might help you get an answer if you address me as 'sir.' Just to get on my good side." 

Brenda swallowed. I would never have pictured 'sir' voluntarily dropping from her mouth, which is why I was taking the first opportunity I had to suggest it to her.

Rather than ask me the question again, she just looked forward again. I had to smile at her stubbornness.

A few seconds later, I saw her slump slightly and heard a soft sigh from her, as if to express some frustration. I waited until her head turned and her expectant gaze wandered back to my face once more. I narrowed my eyes.

"You know, addressing me with respect does include non-verbal communication," I said, a hint of sternness in my tone.

She looked taken aback once more, then she bit her lip. There was a long moment of silence. Then--"Sorry," she said finally, sounding relatively sincere.

I nodded and celebrated silently. She was really trying. That was not the kind of thing she would ever have apologized for in "real" life.

She faced forward again then, and waited. I watched her for a couple more minutes. She shifted every now and then, and I guessed that she was feeling quite exposed now and wanted to close her legs. But she didn't.

Finally, I got up. I went to my nightstand drawer and withdrew a long, dark piece of fabric. Brenda's eyes widened as I approached her.

"I'm going to blindfold you now," I told her, amazed at how calm my voice sounded even though I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

Brenda did not look calm. She didn't look frightened, exactly, but she definitely looked like she wasn't exactly sure what she had gotten herself into. She just nodded, quickly, as if ready to get it over with.

"Ask me," I said.

At her look of incomprehension, I clarified. "Ask me to blindfold you, Brenda."

She worried at her lower lip. "Why would I do that?"

"Didn't I suggest something about how to ask your questions?"

She pressed her lips together that time, and I could tell she only barely stopped herself from giving me an evil look. Unwilling to meet my eyes anymore, she looked down. "Why would I do that ... sir?"


Compromise



Fuck. Hearing her call me that was like an extra jolt straight to my groin.

I couldn't decide if she would be more insulted or pleased if I praised her for following my instructions, and then the moment had passed, so I just let it go and answered her question. "Well, if you don't ask me to blindfold you, I plan to do it anyway. And I will add a gag."

Brenda looked up then, her mouth open in pure surprise. I just looked at her steadily, waiting for her decision.

"Fine, just blindfold me," she said, sounding defeated.

I opted for a quiet threat. "I suggest that you ask me, instead of telling me, or you may find I don't feel you have kept your end of the bargain."

Honestly, I could've just blindfolded her and been done with it. It would've been pretty much the same to me. But I wanted to get her in a different mindset, one that I knew would be hard for her to enter, and it had to be from the beginning.

I watched her patiently once more. Finally, she spoke again.

"Would you please blindfold me? Sir?"

I nodded and set about tying the soft fabric around her head. Once I was confident she couldn't see anything, I moved my hands to the front clasp of her bra. She gasped and moved back slightly, not expecting my touch. "Unclasp your hands," I directed her, and I slid the bra off of her.

"Hands behind your back again," I said, and watched her obey.

This was truly a wonderful sight. Her breasts already had a nice, perky shape, and this position made them jut forward just slightly, accentuating their roundness. Her lips were parted now, and she was breathing a little heavily, so that her breasts rose and fell rhythmically. Her nipples were pebbled hard, telling me that however ambivalent her mind was feeling about this whole situation, her body was at least responding. And now that she was blindfolded, she had given over one more piece of control to me, and was awaiting whatever I had planned for her.

I found myself wondering if I should bind her elbows together. Not cruelly, but just so that her back would arch even more and her breasts would really be at a perfect angle. But judging from how hesitant she was about the blindfold, I thought maybe I should wait. Besides, there was something even more arousing about asking her to hold a position for me.

Well, hm, that could work too.

"Arch your back more."

"What? Sir?"

There was another pause before her 'sir,' but at least she was saying it now, and we could work on making it more natural for her. "Oh, come on," I pressed her. "You know what I mean. Arch your back and present those breasts for me."

I saw her squeeze her hands together for a moment, as if steeling herself. And then she obeyed, sitting up a little straighter and pushing her breasts forward, her hard nipples leading the charge. It looked like she was begging for attention.

"Better," I said, trying to sound detached. I thought I succeeded, but in reality, my mouth had gone dry at the picture my wife was now making. She was straining forward just a little, a pretty curve in her back, even prettier curves in the front.

I stood in front of her for a little while, letting her hold position like that, but soon I couldn't hold back any longer. "Try not to move," I instructed, before I ran my hands up her sides.

She's a little ticklish, which combined with the surprise meant she jumped a little. But she quickly resumed her position. "That's good," I said, my hands reaching her breasts now. I hefted them in my hands, enjoying the weight of them, drifting my fingers over the whole of them before running my thumbs over her nipples. She sighed as I reached them, and unexpectedly, but delightfully, her back arched even more, pushing them further towards me.

I pulled at her nipples gently, listening as her sigh turned to a quiet whimper. I rolled them between my fingers, plucking and teasing to my heart's content. Her little noises were delightful, and I enjoyed myself like this for quite a while.

Then I stepped away from her abruptly. She cried out at the sudden loss of contact, then slumped slightly and stilled.

"Breasts back up," I said as I went back to my nightstand, and she arched her back to push them forward once more. It was beautiful.

I retrieved my next toy and came back to stand forward in front of her. I lowered my head to capture a nipple in my mouth, enjoying the little cry that it elicited from her as I flicked it with my tongue, then lapped at it hard. She moaned.

Moving as quickly as I could, I scrambled to place the nipple clamp on that same breast.

As might be expected, she recoiled slightly, but I had one hand on her back coaxing her breasts forward again. "What--what is that?" Brenda said in something approaching a screech.

I was about to answer, but then remembered. "What did we say about your questions?" I said as calmly as I could manage while I was adjusting the screw on a nipple clamp.

"I--sir, what--is that?" Brenda squealed. Her pants were making her breasts heave now, making my job slightly difficult, but I couldn't really blame her.

"It's a nipple clamp," I told her. Once I managed to get it securely on, I stood back a little, enjoying the look of my handiwork.

"I—It's--"

"Tell me how it feels," I said. After a couple of unintelligible whimpers from her, I decided maybe a more specific question was necessary. "Does it hurt?"

"--No," Brenda admitted with a little cry. "But it's--it feels very tight."

I smiled. "Yes, that's probably true," I acknowledged. I knew I'd tightened it really just enough for it to stay put, and that it could actually go quite a bit tighter, but I was proud of how she was taking it so far. "Ready for the other one?"

She bit her lip hard. While she was thinking about it, I let my finger rest lightly along the nipple clamp that was already on her, and she gasped and then moaned.

"I think that's a yes," I said, and bent my head to lap at her free nipple. I was relatively gentle, coaxing it to be even harder, if that was possible at that point. This time, when I pulled my head away, poor Brenda stiffened, knowing what was coming. 

"Try to hold still," I suggested again, before firmly grasping her nipple with my thumb and forefinger and attaching the other clamp.

She did much better than I had expected, keeping her nipple pressed forward firmly into my hands, which made this side much easier.

"Keep that back arched and those breasts presented to me," I advised her as I stood back once more.

She was moaning constantly now, but kept her position nicely, almost as if the clamps were holding her in place. I wasn't sure if Brenda could tell exactly what it was since she couldn't see, but there was a chain between the two nipple clamps that met and ended in one strand, so I actually could've pulled her forward if I wanted to. As it was, the chain was hanging down, nestling along her belly and pooling right at her pussy. I watched as she shifted. The chain must have made some kind of feather light movement against her clit or some other sensitive part of her, because her hips jerked forward involuntarily and she let out a whimper. I shook my head in wonder. 

"You look unbelievable right now," I told her, unable to keep it to myself any longer. "So beautiful. I love those clamps on you, and I love how they're making you horny."

Brenda shook her head vehemently, although her moans remained incoherent. "Don't deny it, baby," I said, gently stroking one of the nipple clamps with a finger and watching her whole body shudder in reaction. I traced my finger down her torso and dipped it just into the top of her panties. I wasn't anywhere near her pussy, but I saw her hips jerk forward again. If I wasn't mistaken, she mouthed the word 'fuck.'

"I bet your panties are practically soaked through," I mused aloud. "What do you think, Brenda? Do you think you're wet?"

Her lips were now pressed together in a tight line and she was trying to mute all the sounds she had been making, so I decided a little coaxing was in order. I took the chain between her nipple clamps and tugged just the tiniest bit, barely anything.

Judging from her cry, it must have produced quite a sensation. "I--yes," she managed.

"Hm?" I gave that tiniest of tugs again and watched her arch forward and cry out once more.

"Yes, I think I'm wet," she whispered, shifting her hips, presumably to try and bring some relief to her pussy.

"Good girl," I said, guiding the chain back down to rest against her again. I didn't want to drop it, worried that even its light weight would be too much for her super-sensitive nipples at this point.

I stepped back. "Turn around and face the other way, and then on your hands and knees, please."

After spending so long in this position, Brenda seemed thrown off by my request. Then she shifted on the bed, her movements a little uncertain, probably due to the blindfold. I frowned a little as I watched the chain on her clamps--I hadn't realized it was quite so long. I watched the chain carefully, somewhere between worried and hopeful she would catch herself on it and cause herself a real shock. She made it onto her hands and knees without incident, though.

I adjusted the chain of her nipple clamps so that it rested straight downward, not wanting it to get caught on anything. I guess even the slight movement drew her attention to her nipples once more, because she cried out and I swear I saw them grow even more engorged. Shit, this was awesome.

I waited until she was settled, then dipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties again, this time at the back. I don't think she was conscious of it, but she shifted back towards me, which had the nice effect of lifting her butt further in the air. I took my time about drawing her panties down and off of her, letting them slide along her, wanting her to really feel every moment bring her closer to complete nudity. "Oh, Brenda, I think we were right. These are really quite damp now. Do you want to smell?"

"Um, no thank you," she said quickly. I smiled at her, although of course she couldn't see me. She had picked up the respectful talking faster than I had expected.

"Legs apart. You know what that means now, I think."

She groaned slightly, but shifted her knees until they were at least as far apart as they had been in her previous position.

Quite frankly, I had to undo the button and zipper of my jeans at the sight in front of me now. Brenda's shapely, almost muscular ass was presented to me, much as she'd presented her breasts earlier. With her legs spread apart like this, I could see her pussy clearly as well. I hadn't been lying earlier--her panties had been soaked when I pulled them off, and now, I could see that she was coated with her own juices.

She looked perfect already, but I wanted her to try a little harder. "Maybe a small adjustment," I murmured, and gently pressed my hand at the small of her back. I molded her form so that her ass was sticking up even a little bit higher, her back just a little more arched. I hadn't even realized how much I liked that curve in her back.

"Very nice," I said, and stood back again.

It was fascinating just to watch her. I tried to imagine myself in her place--blindfolded, so that every noise was hyperacute; naked, and at a complete disadvantage since I was fully clothed; and lewdly on display, so that really every orifice was fully available. Considering all of that, she was doing quite well, only shifting uneasily every now and then, once in a while letting out an uncomfortable-sounding little hiss as if she was realizing her position all over again.

I let a whole song go by, just watching her squirm. I was itching to go on, but I wanted Brenda's anticipation to build.

"Um, sir?" she said once.

"I'm here." That was all. I didn't say anything more to suggest how long she would be like this, or why I was waiting.

At the closing strains of the song, I spoke again. "Brenda, I'm going to spank you now." I heard a little gasp from her, but I continued. "You've been doing very well, so this is not because of anything you've done wrong. It is for me."

I paused to let that sink in. If I had to guess, she was thinking that this wasn't fair, since she'd complied with all my orders. That was why I had explicitly told her it was for me. It was my night, so she could hardly argue with that.

For once, my wife's smart mouth seemed to have deserted her.

"This spanking will end when you beg me to fuck you, and when I believe that is truly what you want," I told her matter-of-factly. "I do not expect to have to explain that to you again."

Actually, I fully expected to have to prompt her again, but no reason for her to know that.

There was a small part of me that was wondering what would happen if she just begged me to fuck her now, to get out of the spanking. But I wasn't too concerned. I was pretty sure my wife was too proud to beg without a little coaxing.

Brenda would have thought of that loophole too. And, as expected, she remained silent as I took up position at her side.

We had done a couple of spankings before. My request, of course, mostly in the context of some kind of roleplay: naughty schoolgirl, French maid, that kind of thing. But usually one of my hands was on her breasts, and it usually devolved pretty quickly into my fingers in her pussy. I didn't plan on letting her off that easy this time.

My hand came down on her ass, hard.

She let out a very arousing whimper in response. I didn't wait, just continued on, relishing the sharp sting that was transferring from my palm to that beautifully presented ass.

I warmed her up a bit, although even my initial spanks were pretty solid. It was similar to our previous spankings, as I covered all areas of her ass in a random pattern, although for now I avoided hitting her pussy directly. I wanted to wait for that.

After I judged her ass to be nicely warmed all over, I let my arm draw a little further back, my hand come down a little harder. I let the increase in intensity be gradual, enough that Brenda wouldn't have been able to identify one single turning point in the spanking.

It was definitely harder than I'd spanked her before. I could tell from the nice shade of dark pink that was spreading over her ass now, and the way her yelps sounded a little more heartfelt and desperate than in our previous sessions. I don't know if she realized how similar those sounds were to the ones she made when she orgasmed, but I was certainly thinking about it.

And as I'd expected, Brenda was taking it like a champ. Her pain tolerance truly was remarkable, and if things worked out, I was really going to enjoy finding exactly what her limits were.

So it was a little surprising when I heard her sounds switch from unintelligible moans to an actual "Please."

"Um, please," she managed in between yelps as I continued the steady spanking. "Sir ..."

"Yes?" I asked, trying to keep any disappointment from my voice. I really thought I would get to spank her longer than this.

"Um, the clamps," and then she moaned as I connected with the very bottom of her ass, where it met the thighs. She continued, slightly breathless, "The clamps are very tight." I considered this as I spanked her again. She whimpered, then added, "Please, sir."

I paused the spanking then. I'm sure this sounds silly, but I'd tried the nipple clamps on myself earlier in the week. Hey, if you're going to inflict something on someone else, seems like the least you can do is try it out on yourself first. Besides, it had seemed like the best way to guess how much Brenda could handle.

I glanced up at the clock. We were still a few minutes away from the length of time I had been planning for the clamps.

I rested my hand on her ass, rubbing it gently. She surprised me once more by stretching back to meet me, moaning at the contact. God, my wife was sexy.

"I want you to try for five more minutes," I told her, still letting my hand slide back and forward over her ass, soothing a little bit of the burn. "Then I'll take them off."

She let out a high-pitched little noise from the back of her throat, like this was worse than she had expected. I kept that hand moving on her ass, watching her squirm. She couldn't seem to decide between moving towards it or away for it.

Then she nodded. I smiled. "Good girl."

Without any further warning, I resumed the spanking, earning a wholehearted cry on the first one back. Her ass was growing steadily redder by the second, and I let my spanking hand drift closer to her pussy occasionally, not hitting it directly, but not avoiding it any more, either.

I was pleased to find my hand came away wet, multiple times.

After three minutes, I stopped again and came around to gently remove the nipple clamps. "Oh God," Brenda gasped as the blood flowed back into them. I watched, fascinated, as that alone made her writhe on the bed. 

"Down on your forearms," I said once I judged she had mostly recovered.

She obeyed. The shift made her head lower than the level of her hips and really fully presented that ass to me.

She could tell the difference, too. "Oh God, Adam ..."

I started up again. I eased back a little on the strength of my spanks--her ass was really getting pretty red now, and I had a feeling we were reaching the end of this. But now I systematically covered her, right cheek from top to bottom, then left cheek from top to bottom, and I concluded each side with two slaps directly to her pussy. I kept the pussy spanking light relative to everything else, but her whole body shuddered every time, and I guessed they didn't feel light at all.

Her moans were now punctuated with her occasionally calling out my name. I liked it. But I hoped she would remember how to properly address me soon.

I didn't have long to wait. She started throwing a "Please" in here and there. Then she would combine it with my name. I watched as she balled her hands into tense little fists. Then, after my pair of spanks directly to her pussy, I heard her gasp "Sir." This was all punctuated by those breathy moans and yelps that so reminded me of her orgasms, and I swear this might have been getting to me more than it was to her.

I kept up my systematic pattern of spanks on her ass. I knew that she had noticed from the way she was shifting her hips around, like she wanted to avoid the next blow. I enjoyed the thought that she knew exactly where her next torture would be, but could do nothing about it.

"Sir, please," she was calling now, with the least hesitance that I'd heard from her so far. "Please."

"You know how to end this," I said, watching her pussy twitch uncontrollably. "And it'll need to be convincing."

"Oh God, please fuck me."

I almost forgot to spank her. I was maybe a half-second late for the next blow.

"Adam! Please fuck me, sir."

Oh, Jesus. I spanked her again. I was nearing the bottom of her left ass cheek.

"Please sir, I want to be fucked."

One more, right at that delicious curve of hers.

"PLEASE, sir, please fuck me."

I was gritting my teeth now, and I willed myself to stay in control. I delivered the spank to her pussy. She groaned.

"Please, sir, I need to be fucked."

One more to that deliciously wet pussy of hers.

"Sir, please, I need your cock inside me sir, please please please--"

I was up on the bed with my pants around my knees by halfway through her third "please." My cock nudged at her entrance and she whimpered, pushing back towards me.

"Again," I said, my voice sounding rough and strange to my own ears.

"PLEASE fuck me, sir, please, your cock, it's so close--ah, please--I need--" She was still pushing back towards me, and I thought I might break something, I was so fucking tense.

I drove into her in one thrust. She was incredibly slick and wet and welcomed me in without any trouble at all, and she moaned. I was drawing blood from biting my lip to keep from showing how ready I was to fuck her. I wanted her to be at a distinct disadvantage, and if she knew how desperate I was to just start slamming her, I thought I might lose an edge.




Compromise



I stayed deep inside of her, although she was moving her hips back and forth, mewling, trying to get me to move. It gave me an idea.

"I'm going to fuck you now, but I want you to keep doing that," I told her. "Keep moving those hips back and forth. I don't expect to have to do all the work here."

"Yes sir," she gasped, "just please--"

I moved then, pulled my cock all the way out before driving it deep back into her. She cried out as I stilled, fully inside of her again.

"Well?" I said, aiming for a reproachful tone. "I thought you had a responsibility here." And I spanked her soundly on the outside of her right butt cheek.

"Agh!" she yelped, and started to move her hips again. God, feeling that tightness wrapping around me, milking my cock, watching her reddened ass moving back and forth to please me ... I was in danger of coming already.

"That's better," I said, and started to move again. Brenda moaned and lowered her head to her forearms, sticking her ass up even more for my pleasure.

This time I went several more thrusts before abruptly stopping again. Brenda had stopped too, and she scrambled to start moving again, but I provided a sharp spank to her left butt cheek anyway.

"Ah, please!" she whimpered. I guessed the break hadn't helped any with the sensitivity.

I stayed still for a while, watching this beautiful woman's ass rock forward and back, trying to get me off. And I was under no disillusions--Brenda was trying to get herself off, too. Her moans had been coming non-stop and her movements had taken on an edge of desperation.

I decided to help her out. Leaning forward a little, I slipped a hand under her and onto her nipple, tugging lightly. She cried out my name, her nipples still sensitive from the earlier clamps. Undeterred, my other hand came around the other side to tug both of them, and then I twisted.

"Oh, God!" she squeaked.

I ran one hand down her belly and hovered at her clit, not even touching it yet, but close enough that she had to know it was there.

"Ask me for permission to come," I said.

I wasn't sure how this would go over. And it was a rash decision; I was so close to coming myself that I wasn't sure I'd be able to make her if she put up a fight.

But thank goodness, she was on edge after all of the evening's events, and the words spilled out of her mouth immediately. "Please, sir, may I come?"

My wordless reply was to press my fingers against her clit, giving her one strong circle.

That was all it took to push her over the edge. She screamed, wordless, her entire body bucking against mine, her pussy contracting mindlessly over and over, pulling me right over the edge with her. I thrust deep inside her, one hand falling onto the bed to hold myself up, the other still pressed against her clit, although somehow I hazily managed to realize I should lighten the pressure since she got so sensitive while she was coming. But she was still coming, and she was still making me come, and we seemed to be stuck in that cycle for quite some time until finally she collapsed onto the bed.

I lay down with her, pulling her into my arms, and almost immediately, she was asleep.



Compromise



Joseph Hart had just arrived at the luggage pickup area of the Port Orion airport. It wasn't that late, but he always got tired when he traveled by plane. He was anxious to get a rental car, check into his hotel room, and lie down to rest for awhile. He was planning a leisurely dinner and possibly some lounging outside the hotel restaurant that supposedly had an excellent view of the ocean.

He was in Port Orion on business. Tomorrow, he would be meeting the matriarch of the Gillihan Family, Loretta Gillihan. After talking to one of his college professors, Mrs. Gillihan contacted him about the opportunity for him to write the history of the Hope House. The Hope House is a home for girls that have been abandoned or orphaned. It had a long and distinguished history and the Gillihans have always had a big part in its development.

As he was reaching for his bag, he heard a voice behind him, "Mr. Hart?" Even before he turned to acknowledge the salutation, he guessed from the lyrical quality of the sound, the voice would fit a pretty lady. When he turned to greet her, he realized how right he was. Standing in front of him was a gorgeous young woman with a bright smile on her face. He was stunned by her beauty and her smile. In his mind, he was looking at the perfect woman. He kept staring with a goofy smile until he had finally recovered enough to answer when the woman repeated her question.

"Mr. Hart?"

"Yes ma'am, that's me, Joseph Hart," he stuttered with the tone of a star struck schoolboy.

She giggled at his nervousness and reached out her hand. "Mr. Hart, I'm Laura Gillihan, and I'll be your guide during your visit here if that's okay."

Joseph regrouped as he set down his newly recovered luggage. He was usually not affected by attractive women like that, but she had caught him by surprise. He knew from his quick research of the Gillihans, Laura was the youngest of 5 daughters. After composing himself, he extended his hand and said, "Nice to meet you Ms. Gillihan, my friends call me Joey."

"It's nice to meet you too Joey, please call me Laura. If you have all of your luggage, I'll show you to your car, and we'll get you checked into the hotel."

Joey was a bit confused but smiled when he said, "I didn't think I would be met by anyone until tomorrow at the house, but I'm glad you're here. So what exactly is the guide's responsibility in this adventure?"

As they walked towards the airport exit, she smiled and said, "My duties are to get you settled in and comfortable so that tomorrow you can be alert and ready when you talk to my mother. If everything goes well while you are here, I will be your guide around the area and answer any questions you may have. We hadn't planned to greet you at the airport, but I take my duties quite seriously."

While driving to the hotel, Joey thought about how lucky he was to be offered this opportunity. A twenty-two year old recent college graduate who was confident but shy, he had still never "been" with a girl other than a polite kiss or some hand holding during an evening date. He also felt quite fortunate that he had been assigned such a beautiful guide. He knew that his writing professor at college had taken a liking to him and mentored him throughout his creative writing degree. When Loretta Gillihan had contacted her friend and his professor, Dr. Elizabeth Knight, she was told that she was looking for a fresh face that knew nothing about the girl's home. She wanted to avoid any bias and wanted a fair perspective of the Hope House. Joey suspected that his parentless upbringing had something to do with it too. Dr. Knight had called Mrs. Gillihan and recommended Joey and tomorrow's appointment was set.

With Joey driving towards the hotel, Laura sat in the passenger side of the nice rental car and pointed out some of the area's landscape. "I love the view of the ocean that Port Orion offers. Our sunsets are spectacular, and I have a favorite spot I just might share with you."

"That does sound nice. I think I'd like that... professionally of course as a writer with his beautiful guide."

Laura smiled as she looked over at him and gave his arm a quick rub. Her touch was only about a second long, but he felt a tingle spreading through his arm all the way down to his toes. She then reached up and stroked his long hair in its ponytail. "I love your hair," she said. "It's a nice long length and so soft."

"I suppose that's my attempt to look like a writer," he answered. "Am I overdoing it?"

"Not at all," she said. "I like it just the way it is. And yes it does give you a writer's look."

When they arrived at the hotel, Joey checked in at the reception desk with Laura at his side. The pretty hotel clerk smiled as she handed Joey a paper to sign and said, "How many nights will you be staying with us Mr. Hart?"

Before he could answer, Laura spoke up and answered for him, "Two nights please." She looked over at Joey's confused face and said, "If all goes well with your meeting tomorrow, you will stay here for the first two nights and then we'll move you into the visitor's villa on the family property. It will be closer to all the research you will need to do for your writing."

After checking out his room and throwing his bag on the bed, Joey looked at Laura with a smirk and asked, "What's next Ms. Gillihan?"

She returned his smirk with a smile, "Enjoy a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant and get a good night's sleep. In the morning grab some breakfast, and I'll pick you up out front at nine. Then we'll go and meet with mother. Dress casually and try not to be too nervous. She is actually quite enthused about your presence here."

"Thanks for all your help Laura. I'm honored to have you as a guide. I'll see you tomorrow at nine."

"Good night Joey, sweet dreams."

After Laura had left, Joey unpacked his bag and went downstairs for an early dinner. When he returned to his room, it was still rather early, and he was no longer very tired. He turned on the in-room television, but his mind was wandering. He found himself nervous but very excited about the upcoming meeting with Mrs. Gillihan and especially excited about being around Laura. Eventually he fell asleep and slept very soundly.

The next morning, Joey was up early and ate a quick breakfast. He sat in the lobby reading the local paper and realized he was half an hour early. He was full of nervous energy and anticipation. A couple minutes before nine, Laura drove up to the lobby entrance, smiled, and waved at Joey through the glass window. She was wearing a light summer dress with her hair gathered up in a ponytail. If anything, Joey thought she looked even more beautiful than last night, and that said a lot.

Laura smiled as Joey slipped into the passenger seat of her small but stylish car. "Good morning Joey, ready for your busy day?"

"I'm kind of nervous, but your presence seems to have a calming effect on me. You look great this morning." He flushed a bit and looked down at his hands because he didn't want her to think of him as a teenage boy with a crush. She had noticed and smiled as she started the drive to the family home. She too was a bit smitten by the attention and personality of her new friend.

As they drove through the gate and through the property, Laura pointed out her four sisters' houses and the land that was reserved for her. The main house was back near the ocean front. They pulled up into a huge parking area in front of a huge house. He knew that the Gillihans were quite wealthy, but he was still star struck by the size and design of the mansion.

"Wow," he said as he got out of the car and looked up at the height of the top floors.

Laura came alongside and put her arm through his to guide him to the front door. "It is quite big, but most of it is quite cozy. I'm sure I'll be able to show you around this afternoon." She smiled at him as they reached the front door and he walked along with his mouth open and his eyes wide with amazement. She said, "Okay, close your mouth and put your eyeballs back in. You'll get used to everything when you're here long enough."

Joey realized what a picture he was and blushed again. "Sorry," he said as he bashfully looked at her smiling face.

"It's okay Joey. It is quite big for anyone who hasn't been here before. Besides, you're cute when you drool in wonder."

Joey quickly put his hand up to his mouth to wipe off his spit and he heard Laura laugh. "I was just kidding, except for the cute part that is." He blushed again.

Once inside, they were met by a young lady who had Laura's features. She walked right up and gave Laura a big hug. "It's been a little while sis. I haven't had much chance to visit for a few days." Stepping back, she looked at Joey and said, "So, who's your boyfriend?"

Laura smiled and replied, "Joey, this is my sister Lenora, she's the oldest of the 5 Gillihan sisters." Grabbing Joey's arm she introduced him to her, "Lenora, this is Joseph Hart. He's here to talk to mother about writing the history of the Hope House. I'm his guide and his girlfriend while he's here."

She smiled and nudged Joey's side as Joey blushed and wondered how much he should take from those comments. He certainly wouldn't mind being her boyfriend, but knew that she was probably just kidding around with her sister.

Lenora offered Joey her hand and said, "Nice to meet you Joseph. I've heard mother talk about that project. She said you come highly recommended."

He took her hand and bowed politely, "It's my pleasure ma'am, please call me Joey."

Lenora glanced at her sister and smiled, "Oooh, polite too. He might be a keeper."

Laura lightly punched Lenora's arm and said with a smile, "You leave him alone girl, he's mine. Do you know where mother is?"

"She's in her office. She told me to tell you to come there if I saw you." As Lenora walked away, she glanced back at Joey and said, "Good luck Joey. Hope to see you around soon."

Laura started to lead Joey to Mrs. Gillihan's office. "Just be yourself and talk to her honestly. You're going to do fine."

He replied nervously and said, "Will you be in the interview with us Laura?"

"I think so, but you never know with mother. She may want to talk to you alone or she may want to talk to both of us since I will be showing you around."

They walked down the hallway and passed by several doors until they reached an elegant wooden double door. Laura immediately knocked, and they were greeted by a strong female voice. "Come in Laura!" When they entered her office, she had already started to cross the room towards them. She walked straight over to Laura and gave her a hug and then backed up a couple of steps and offered Joey her hand. "It's very nice to finally meet you Joseph. Elizabeth thinks the world of you and said you were her best student ever. I hope your trip here went well."

"Thank you ma'am, it's very nice to meet you too. Dr. Knight tells me that you are her best friend, and she couldn't stop praising you when we were talking about the project."

"Elizabeth is a sweetie. She's been a great friend for a very long time. How much did she tell you about the project?"

Joey was getting more and more comfortable in Mrs. Gillihan's company. She was very pleasant to talk to and Laura's presence was reassuring. "Actually, not much at all ma'am. I know that you want to document the history of the "Hope House for Girls". She did say that it has been a special institution with your family for a very long time."

"I tell you what Joseph, let's go and take a look at the Home and we can talk about the project while we are out. I have a car and driver ready out front. What do you think Laura, is that a good idea?"

Laura knew that her mother wasn't really asking her opinion, but she was pleased that she was included in the conversation. "I think that would be a perfect idea mother. Joey can get an idea of how the Home is setup, and I can show him the best view of the sunset in the area."

The drive to the Hope House was quick, but they were able to talk a little bit about its history. When Laura pointed out the building and grounds to Joey, he was a bit confused when the driver made a left turn and seemed to go around and behind the Home. When they got out of the car, they were faced with a slope that had steps running up to the top.

As they were climbing to the top, Laura said, "We're not able to get into the grounds or the building right now. At least you aren't. No males are allowed."

Ms. Gillihan added, "That is a long standing rule. Tradition is very important to our family. Over the years, the Board of Directors has agreed that this policy would remain a rule of the Home."

Joey was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see the Home from the inside and interact with the girls there, but he was distracted back to reality when they reached the top of the hill. The top of the hill was a large flat surface that allowed plenty of room for its benches. He was able to look down and see the beautiful building and grounds that included a large play area with numerous well kept play sets and swings. Joey couldn't help but smile when he saw the energy and happiness of the girls in the area. There were girls of all ages running around and their smiles and laughter made it apparent they were happy to be there. Several adults were supervising and working in the area and were smiling and laughing right along with the girls.

The other sides of the building were surrounded by a well kept tree line which opened up in front to allow an entranceway to the Home. No vehicles were allowed to park inside the area. Parking was designated out front beyond the trees. The one strange thing that Joey noticed was that the benches on the hill were facing away from the Hope House.

Laura noticed his confusion, took him by the arm, and turned him completely around. From this viewpoint and from this angle, a wide view of the ocean was spread out in front of them. "This is my most favorite place. I come here a lot just before the sun goes down. This is where I told you that the sunsets are incredible. I feel so at peace here with the beautiful sunset on one side and the positive energy of the girls on the other."

Joey understood her meaning. "Even though I am not allowed down there with the girls, is it okay if I come up here at times to watch the sunset too? I can see and feel why this is your special place."

Mrs. Gillihan spoke up, "Of course you are welcome up here Joseph. This is a private spot and not everyone is allowed, but I'll have security put you on the approved list. And we might even have a way for you to visit the Home and the girls."

Joey perked up with excitement and said, "That would be great Mrs. Gillihan, but I'm not a woman, and you said only women are allowed down there."

Laura smiled at Joey and put her arm through his. Mrs. Gillihan turned to face the Home and continued talking to Joey, "See the lady in the light blue dress pushing the girls on the merry-go-round? And see the lady in the yellow dress and apron passing out drinks to the girls?" She looked around at Joey staring down on the Home as he nodded his head. "The lady in blue is Robert. He is my daughter Lucy's husband. The lady in the apron is Steven. He is married to Lenora who I think you've already met. My family has always been a big supporter of the Home and my daughters and their husbands really enjoy their time here with the girls. As you can see, the husbands are dressed as women in order to participate. They act as handy-women and they love to play and be with all the girls. My guess is that their wives are inside reading books to the girls or maybe preparing snacks and drinks. I doubt you'll see a day where you won't see one of my girls and their husbands visiting the Home."

"They look great from here Mrs. Gillihan. If you hadn't told me who they were, I would have never known they were men. But I don't think I would make a very good woman. I've never done that kind of thing before."

Laura turned him to face her and said, "Those guys never did it before they came here either, but they look real enough now, just like you said. You won't have to do it on your own. I'll help with the look. When we're done, if you look in the mirror and aren't convinced you will pass as a woman, you can say no and we'll stop and no one will be mad or disappointed. I think you are quite handsome anyway and with the right touches, you'll be very passable as a female. Think of it as a costume party."

Mrs. Gillihan said, "Let's shoot for tomorrow night then. That will give you and Laura all day tomorrow to get your "costume" ready. If it doesn't work out, that's okay too. Since today is almost gone and tomorrow I'll be out of town anyway, let's plan on getting together on Friday to hash out the details of our project. That will give you time to possibly meet the girls and think about if you still want to write their story."

On the way back to the Gillihan house, Laura asked Joey if he wanted to come back this evening to enjoy the sunset and Joey quickly agreed. When they arrived at the house and he was alone with Laura, he nervously asked her if she wanted to have dinner together after the sunset. She told him, "Absolutely! You're not getting rid of me that easily. In fact, let's go get lunch, and I can show you downtown Port Orion."

Downtown was small, but quaint. There was a public parking lot from which you could walk through the downtown and its many shops, boutiques, and eateries. Laura led Joey to a deli that was several blocks from the parking area. When they had finished with lunch, they leisurely strolled down the cobblestone area between the shops. Laura took his hand and gave Joey a smile. He smiled back and thought again how lucky he was. He had a great opportunity to write and was holding hands with the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He realized that even though he had known Laura for only a couple of days, he had fallen in love for the first time in his life.

They walked and window shopped and Laura pointed out the local attractions. Eventually, Laura stopped and went into a small women's clothing boutique. She explained how this was her favorite shop for dresses and skirts and blouses. Joey listened intently as she oohed and ahhed over the clothing and he made a mental note of her preferences for possible gifts he could get for her.

They continued their leisurely stroll until Laura guided them into a shoe store. "The villa has a lot of clothes for visiting men and women and we should have plenty to choose from when I get to dress you up. Your hair is long enough and we may or may not fluff out the ponytail. You do need a comfortable pair of shoes in your size and maybe a little makeup that matches your skin color and covers your manly features."

Joey was apprehensive when he glanced over at Laura when they were in the shoe store alcove. "Let's not spend too much money Laura. I really don't think I'll make for a passable woman, no matter how hard you try."

"I disagree sweetie. I think you're underestimating my fashion talent and how handsome you really are." She reached up to his face with both hands, and he was mesmerized by her beautiful eyes. "Remember, when I am done with you, if you don't think you'll pass, you just say so and we'll stop. You have to believe me when I tell you that I would never do anything to embarrass or hurt my new boyfriend." She leaned up and gently pulled his face towards her. They're kiss was soft and loving, not a quick peck and not a tongue twister, but the intent was apparent.

At that moment, Joey would have done anything for Laura. Joey followed her into the store, still holding her hand. "We won't worry about higher heels right now. These sandals with two inch heels should be fine and will allow you to walk around the grounds in comfort." He didn't even notice the reference to the heels and he quickly agreed to the shoes she had held up. He was sized properly, and he carried the bag when they walked out with their purchase.




Compromise



"One more stop and I think we'll be ready for tomorrow." She led them into a jewelry and perfume boutique that also had makeup. "You won't need much, but if we want you to blend in so you aren't seen as a man in women's clothes, we'll need a little help to get by." She had him hold out his arm as she applied different samples and different colors to match his skin tone. When they had finished with their purchases, they walked through the downtown a little more and slowly wandered back to the parking area and their car.

As Joey got in the car he said, "I must say, that was fun, probably more due to the company I am with rather than the shopping, but that was fun too."

"I have fun coming down here with my sisters, but today with you was special. I hope we'll get to do it a lot more. Why don't we go over to the villa you'll be staying at while you're here. I'll give you the grand tour."

Joey drove onto the Gillihan property and Laura directed him to a road left of the normal route to the main house. Through the trees, he saw a modest size house that was positioned in the woods. It wasn't nearly as big as the main Gillihan home, but it was still larger than he pictured for a visitor's temporary quarters. Laura walked him through the house showing him the 4 bedroom house and the private bathrooms attached to each one. The kitchen was spacious and already well stocked for his visit. When they stopped at the master bedroom, Laura opened the closets to show all the suits and casual clothing for visiting men and the dresses, skirts, and comfort clothing and accessories for visiting women.

Laura said, "If it's okay with you, I'll sleep here tonight. You can too if you want to move your things. We can get started early in the morning."

Joey answered, "That sounds great to me, but will your family approve of us being here together?"

Laura took both of his hands and looked up into his eyes. "Sweetie, you have a lot to learn about my family and our traditions. We take them very seriously and my family knows they can trust me to follow them too. I'm a virgin and I will be until my wedding night." She smiled and continued, "Of course that doesn't stop me from doing this." Their kiss was soft to begin, but turned into a very passionate embrace that lasted for several minutes. When they released, Joey said nothing, but had a big smile which told Laura that he liked what she had done. She smiled demurely and said, "I hope I'm not coming on too strong. I don't mean to be too pushy."

Joey kept smiling while staring into her beautiful eyes, "Laura, I've dreamed about you my entire life. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Sex will be nice when the time is right, but I can love you just fine when I can feel you near me. Just being close to you and holding your hand is paradise for me. Since you're so honest with me I must confess that I'm a virgin too. Until now, I just never met anyone special enough to be that intimate." After a long hug, they went into the living room to talk and cuddle on the sofa. Eventually they became so relaxed that they fell asleep in each other's arms.

They woke up from their nap and drove to the back of Hope Hill and settled in on the benches at the top. Joey enjoyed watching the happiness of the girls that were out playing. He noticed a large woman who was tightening the bolts and adjusting the swings. Laura confirmed that "she" was Nathan, her sister Luann's husband. When he looked up and saw Laura and Joey, he stood up, smiled, and waved before getting back to his job.

The sunset was spectacular and the dinner was wonderful. After dinner they drove over to the hotel to pick up Joey's belongings and move into the villa. Laura spent the night and even though Joey was excited about tomorrow, he fell asleep quickly with Laura in his arms.

In the morning, Joey woke up first and snuck out of the bedroom so he wouldn't wake Laura. After his morning bathroom duties, he found the coffeemaker and started a fresh pot. Looking throughout the cabinets and refrigerator, he started fixing a traditional breakfast. As he was busy over the stove, Laura came up from behind and hugged him tight. "Something smells good. You're cute and you're a good cook. Maybe you ARE a keeper."

He turned in her arms to face her and saw her beautiful smile. "I can cook a little bit, especially breakfast, but today, I just think I'm inspired." Joey leaned down and initiated a soft, but lasting kiss.

Laura said, "I'm really excited about today. You're going to fall in love with the girls, and I'm sure they will fall in with you. You just remember who you belong to," she said with a stern look that broke into a joking smile.

Joey was still tentative about dressing up today, but the part about personally meeting the girls was exciting. Because of how he grew up, he really felt like he shared something with them.

After breakfast, Laura led Joey up to the bedroom and opened all the huge closet doors that contained the women's outerwear. "Okay sweetie, just relax and trust me. This might turn out to be as much fun for you as it will be for me."

"Let's see, we're not trying to make you look like a supermodel. That would just get you attention that you don't want. But we still want you to make a subtle and complete change so that when passerby's see you, they will smile and say hello, and then keep walking without thinking of you as anything except a cute young woman. We should start with the lingerie." She started looking through one of the chest drawers, picking up bras and comparing them with some panties.

Joey noticed her actions and spoke nervously. "Do I really need to wear woman's underwear Laura? I could just wear mine under a dress couldn't I?" He was thinking about Laura's impression of him. After all, he didn't want to seem too feminine in her eyes.

"Silly boy," she said without looking up at him. "A dress will not look right without the right underwear. Remember, we're trying to give you a look that will be genuine but not overdone. That way no one will even give you a second look. Only I will know that you're really a masculine, handsome man under your disguise." She turned around with a matching white pair of a fairly plain looking bra and panties. "We'll keep everything plain and subtle."

He tried to lighten up and relax. He smiled smugly and said, "Hmm, beautiful and smart too. YOU might be a keeper."

She smiled and leaned up for a quick kiss. "Try these on while I'm in the closet looking for some outerwear, and don't forget to tuck in areas that might show. Call me when you're ready, and I'll inspect you." 

Joey noticed her sly smile when she glanced back at him as she walked into the huge walk-in closet. He walked over to the bed and decided to just get it over with. When they were done, he could just say no, but he would sure miss not being able to interact with the girls at the Home. It took him a bit to attach the bra properly but tried to remember how they did it in the movies and finally got it on. The panties were easy and very soft. He tucked very easily since he was rather nervous about what he was doing.

"I guess I'm ready," he said without emotion. When she walked out of the closet, he quickly added, "I feel kind of silly dressed like this Laura. I must look like a sissy."

"Don't be silly boyfriend. You're a very manly man who is dressing up in disguise to make his girlfriend happy and to meet a bunch of young girls that will adore you."

"I've got to admit that it's hard to argue with your logic, and I sure am anxious to meet the girls. Maybe I can even pick up some new girlfriends," he said as he tried to keep a straight face.

She looked back at him with a playful frown and poked him in the chest, "You better not if you know what's good for you buster."

"Okay, okay, you got me. What do you want me to do next?" he said as he smiled at her and gave her a big hug. 

She smiled back and held out some stay up stockings. "You'll need these so the sandals fit and look right. They're practically invisible, but will make your feet look better. Later on we might try some nail polish on your hands and toes. They would look great in any open toed shoes."

Laura showed him how to put on the stockings so he wouldn't ruin them and then went back into the closet while Joey put them on. When he had finished, he couldn't help but run his hands up and down his legs to feel the softness of the hose. Laura was watching from the closet door and smiled. She squatted down in front of him and ran her hands along his legs. "Mmmm, feels nice doesn't it sweetie? You have great legs. I think we'll need to do something about your hair so it doesn't show up under the stockings like this."

Joey was embarrassed and his face turned red. "It does feel kinda nice, but very different, that's for sure." He looked down at his legs and did notice the hair on his legs and agreed that something had to be done to keep them from making him look too manly.

When she came into the room, Laura had laid a pretty green dress next to him on the bed. She opened it up and held it out so he could step into it. As it slid up his body, he felt the soft fabric rubbing against the stockings and his lingerie. Laura zipped up the back and slowly moved her hands up and down to smooth out any wrinkles. He found this very pleasurable and they both noticed the goose bumps on his arms. She walked around him and picked at him here and there to straighten and smooth all of his attire. Once settled, the dress draped just at his knees.

"Very nice," she said as her hands settled on his chest, "but I think we need just a little bit of filling up here to hide your manly chest and make the dress fit right. I think I have just the thing." She ran into the closet and he could hear her opening a box from the shelf. She was back in no time with a set of silicone, life-like breast forms. "I guess these are here for guests who want to leave an impression. There are quite a few sizes in there too if you want bigger." Before he could answer she put them in his bra and said, "These smaller ones will give you some shape, but they won't be so big that they will call attention to you."

Joey was still thinking about bowing out before he went outside looking like a woman, but he couldn't help but be a little excited as his transition progressed. "I'm still skeptical Laura, I don't think I was cut out for this, and I don't want to look like a fool."

I've got news for you sweetie. You're looking great already and we haven't even started on the details that will finish your final look. Now sit here at the vanity table. I want to play with your hair."

Joey sat down and let Laura release his ponytail. He was glad he kept his hair clean, but he rarely did anything with it other than gather it into his starving artist's style. He certainly enjoyed Laura's touch as she stroked and brushed him out.

"You have great hair Joey, it's so soft. It needs a bit of trimming though, not to shorten it, but to straighten out the ends. I like it so much that you might get tired of me brushing it for you each night."

"I would never get tired of that Laura, but then you might have to let me brush yours every night too. Yours is always beautiful, just like everything else about you."

Laura turned him around and sat in his lap. With their arms around each other, they kissed until they finally decided to fix a light lunch in the kitchen. They made plans to relax a bit and then get cleaned up so they could finish his transition. Laura was giggly and talkative and Joey was quiet and reserved, but he loved being with her. He fed on her excitement and she calmed his nerves.

After lunch, they relaxed together on the sofa talking and cuddling. Laura got them going by grabbing his hand and leading him to the bathroom. "Let's get you in the shower first. We'll need to get the hair off your legs and arms. In fact, why don't you use the hair removal cream while you're in the shower and get rid of all the hair on your body except your head. That's what all the guys in our family do. It makes things easier and more comfortable."

Joey didn't have too much body hair anyway, and he knew that if he got rid of it all, he wouldn't feel out of place in this family. He thought about how his hairy legs looked under the stockings and knew it would be easier. At least he would give Laura a fair chance to get him ready before he officially said no.

He read the instructions on the hair remover, put it on, and waited the listed time before he stepped in and washed it off. He felt very little difference until he put on the bra and panties that Laura had set on the bathroom vanity. The lingerie felt silky and soft on his hairless skin.

When finished, Laura had him sit on the vanity and put a towel over the mirror. She smiled and said, "No peeking until we're done sweetie. Laura took down his hair from the ponytail and starting brushing it out." She smiled as she brushed, "I like you with long hair, please don't shorten it. But you could use a trim to make it less shaggy, especially when it's out of the ponytail. We have a family day every week over at mother's house. We all help by cutting each other's hair. Maybe you could come and get a trim the next time we have one. The guys come and get their trims there too, so you won't feel out of place."

Joey smiled and stayed rather quiet while Laura worked on him. She seemed very happy having him as a dress-up companion. He wanted to give her full cooperation so that when he was done and he backed out, she would know that he had cooperated fully.

When his nails were dry, she had him put on the stockings. They actually felt amazing when he slid them over his smooth legs. Laura noticed he spent extra time running his hands up his legs and joined his with hers. "They feel so smooth and they look so much better with no hair. I bet they feel better too. Put on your sandals so you can continue to get used to them."

Joey walked around a bit until he was more comfortable with his balance. He admitted to himself that walking with the stockings felt very good with his newly hairless legs, and he admired the painted nails that looked very good in the stockings and sandals. After a few minutes, Laura directed him back to the vanity and sat him down.

"Okay, now for the makeup," she said as she sat on his lap. She had already laid out what she needed. She held his chin in her hand and turned it one way and then the other. Joey smiled at her semi serious expression and because their faces were so close, he leaned over and gave her a kiss. Laura smiled and then reached around to get her first tool. When she turned back to him, he again took advantage of her face being so close and gave her another kiss, this one a bit longer.

When she had recovered from the second kiss, she leaned back and with a pseudo angry expression said, "Stop that right now Joseph, you're distracting me!" Joey kept smiling as she worked and she couldn't help but smile back at his playful grin. After a few more minutes and a few more kisses, Laura declared she was finished. "You've turned out much better than I expected sweetie, probably because of the makeup and your hair down. I've left the lipstick until last so I can still do this." She put her hands around his neck and gave him a long, romantic kiss. Joey was now like putty in Laura's hands and would do anything she wanted.

Next came the dress and she held it out for him to step into. Again the feeling was very exciting as the soft fabric caressed his skin and Laura's hands roamed his body to smooth the wrinkles and tease him some more. She helped him put the breast forms into his bra and took a little extra time feeling and shaping his new chest. "Okay, we're almost done. A few accessories and a quick touchup of your makeup and you can see yourself in the mirror." She grabbed a box on the vanity and pulled out some jewelry. She first put on some pearl, clip-on earrings, and a matching necklace. She also gave him a nice ladies watch and an ankle bracelet that she said was just for fun. She suggested to him that maybe later, he might consider getting his ears pierced.

As she guided him over to the large mirror in the corner, Laura told him to close his eyes until she told him to open them. Joey admitted that the clothing felt unusually nice as he walked towards the mirror, but still doubted how he would look. She added lipstick that matched his nails and took a couple of steps backward with a big smile. "You really look wonderful sweetie. When you look at yourself in the mirror, remember to give yourself a fair assessment. Okay, open your eyes."

Joey slowly opened his eyes and adjusted his line of sight to look straight into the mirror. He was amazed by what he saw looking back at him. The young woman that looked back was attractive, but not overdone. She was the kind of lady he would pass in the street and maybe say hi as he continued to walk. Her clothing was plain, but attractive. What really caught his eye was her facial appearance. Her makeup was subtle, her hair framed her face just right, and the earrings added just the right touch. He doubted he would recognize himself if he didn't know it was him in the mirror and he had to admit, he should easily pass as a woman.

After turning his body to see several angles of himself, he held up his subtly painted fingernails and glanced down to see his stockings and sandals. When he settled in and continued to stare at his image, he finally noticed Laura, standing at his side with a huge smile on her face. "Okay Josie, what do you think? Will you admit that you will pass as a woman, but won't draw too much attention to yourself?"

All Joey said in response was "Josie?"

Laura took hold of his arm and turned him to face her. "I can't call you Joey when you're dressed like that, can I? Is Josie okay for your feminine name?" As he looked into her eyes, he just shook his head in agreement without making a sound and he knew that with that affirmation, he was agreeing to visit the Girl's Home as a woman. He was nervous about everything that was happening.

Laura could sense his apprehension and tried to calm him by focusing away from his apparel. "Just think, those girls are going to love having you around. From what mother has told us, you have a lot of things in common with them. I'll bet you will love being around them too."

She gathered her keys and purse and led him by the arm. "You won't need a purse this time and I'll drive until you're more used to the heels. I asked my sisters if they would drop by the Home with their husbands to make you a little more at ease. If we visit the girls now, we'll have plenty of time with them and then we can go out to dinner. I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about."

Joey walked with Laura in total silence. When they closed the door and walked to her car, he could feel the slight breeze on his legs and arms and was fascinated with how he felt now that he was outside. As they drove, Laura put her hand on Joey's stocking covered knee and gave him a reassuring squeeze and a smile. "Trust me Josie, I wouldn't hurt you or embarrass you in any way." That made "Josie" feel better, but he was still very nervous.

After parking in the Girl's House parking lot, Laura turned to Josie and smiled. "Are you ready sweetie? I'll be right here with you the whole time. If you feel like you need to leave for any reason, you tell me and we're outta here."

Joey walked arm in arm with Laura and when they got to the entrance gate, there was no one on the outside. Joey relaxed and quickly said, "Well, looks like we missed them. We better get on back."

Laura laughed and kept them walking through the gate towards the main building. "Don't be silly Josie. They are probably inside getting a snack or something."




Compromise



Laura led the way to the building entrance and they walked in. Josie was very nervous and walked very stiffly while holding tightly to Laura's hand. There were sounds coming from down the hallway. Girls laughing and talking were loud through the open door. Laura walked to the door and before Josie could complain she led them both inside and stood at the entranceway.

As the girls noticed their presence, a chorus of greetings was called out, "Ms. Laura," "Hello Ms. Laura," "Who's your friend Ms. Laura?"

Laura laughed and waved at the girls and shouted, "Hello ladies." When the voices quieted down a bit, Laura announced, "Okay everyone, I want you to meet my very best friend, Josie. She'll be visiting you here too."

"Hello Ms. Josie," They replied, almost in unison.

Josie stiffly waved her hand and gave them a slight smile. He was still quite nervous, but at the same time fascinated by the giggling and energy of all the girls. Deep down, he was still looking forward to meeting and talking to them, but for now, everything was a bit overwhelming.

Laura pushed Josie outside into the hallway and called back to the girls, "Go ahead and finish up your snacks. We'll see you outside in the play yard."

Laura took him by the hand and slowly led Josie down the hallway. "See, I told you it would be fine. I know this is a lot thrown at you at one time and it's okay to be nervous. You're going to be just fine and it will all be worth it. Now let's see if Mrs. Brady is in her office."

Josie knew from talking with Mrs. Gillihan that Mrs. Brady was the Home's Director. She had been the Director for 40 years and all the girls, past and present, adored her. She had announced last month that she was finally going to retire by the end of the year, or as soon as the board of trustees found a suitable replacement.

They walked to the end of the hallway until finally reaching the door with Mrs. Brady's name and title on it. Laura gave it a quick and firm knock. They were invited inside and Laura introduced Josie to the longtime Director.

"So this is your new friend Josie," Mrs. Brady said with a sly smile. She took Josie's hand and reassuredly said, "Nice to meet you Josie, you look great. I'm told you'll be writing a history of the Hope House. I have plenty of journals and clippings in the library and you're welcome here anytime for your research."

Josie could tell that she knew she was a he and that made sense he thought. After all, The Gillihan men have been in a similar disguise for a long time. He felt very comfortable around her and knew she would be a great asset to his research for the book.

Even with the office door closed, they could hear the noises of footsteps and laughter as the girls made their way out to the play yard. Mrs. Brady explained, "It looks like snack time is over Laura. Two of your sisters and their 'friends' helped out with that today. I think the other 2 sisters and their 'friends' are out in the play yard waiting for the girls. Looks like all the Gillihan sisters are here today. I'm not sure what we would do without you ladies and the girls love you too. I think you'll fit right in Josie."

Laura and Josie thanked Mrs. Brady and they all said their goodbyes as Laura took Josie's hand and led him down the hallway. "You've done great so far and there's only one more step to go. Let's go mingle with the girls. I know you're still a little nervous, but remember, I'll be right there for you. We don't have to stay too long for your first visit. Just let me know when you're ready to go."

Josie was still very apprehensive about his appearance. He hadn't been around a lot of children in his life, but he did feel like this group of girls was different. After all, they did share a common past. It was almost like they were in the same sorority. He held Laura's hand very tightly and still walked stiffly as they strolled out into the busy courtyard. Josie marveled at all the activity and energy as he watched the girls running around, playing games, and enjoying the well equipped playground. He was so fascinated, he didn't even notice when Laura gently let go of his hand and took a step back to watch her girlfriend.

"Hello Ms. Josie," a young voice called him from behind. Josie turned and faced a young girl with a huge smile. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that seemed a bit large for her body. With her tennis shoes, she certainly looked ready for outside playtime.

"I'm Brenda and I'm 6 and a half years old. I know I'm small for my age, but I think I can handle myself okay. I'm really glad you're here visiting with us today."

Josie looked down at her and bent down slightly with a growing smile. He still seemed stiff and nervous, but Laura could see his fascination. She instinctively held her hands over her mouth so she could hide her smile and not call attention to her presence. 

"Hello Brenda," Josie answered in a nervous voice. "Thank you for letting me visit you today." 

They both stood there looking at each other, Josie with his small smile and Brenda with her huge grin. Laura was getting a little nervous. There were quite a few moments of silence as they stood and stared at each other. She was almost ready to join their conversation when Brenda held up both her arms to Josie.

Josie had very little interaction with children, but he recognized Brenda's gesture. He reached down and picked her up. They were eye to eye now.

"Will you be my friend Ms. Josie, I don't have any real friends, I mean the girls don't treat me bad, but there isn't anyone I can sit down and talk to or count on playing with them outside. They call me a smarty pants, I think because I read a lot and get good grades in school."

A slow smile was spreading on Josie's face. He couldn't believe that anyone could talk so much and seemingly not even take a breath. She seemed to ramble on like someone who hadn't talked in a long time. Laura noticed too, but her hands disguised the smile and silent laugh at Josie's situation. And then Brenda stopped talking.

She had put her hands around Josie's neck and was now quiet while she looked into his eyes. He was very comfortable with the very light little girl in his arms and he maintained the smile while he returned the gaze, eye to eye. They were both quiet for a bit, but they still held their stare. Even Laura remained quiet.

Brenda leaned forward a bit and spoke just above a whisper so no one else could hear. "You're one of us aren't you Ms. Josie?"

Josie's smile disappeared and his face turned to shock. Instinctively, he knew what she meant, but he could not answer. Laura did not hear what Brenda had said, but she had noticed the expression on Josie's face. She was a little worried, but held back any action.

"You didn't have any real parents either when you were growing up did you? You're an orphan just like us. I can see it in your eyes."

Josie's facial expression slowly turned from shock to a bit of sadness as he slowing nodded his head at Brenda. How could she know that by just looking into his eyes. There was another pause of silence as they both continued staring at each other. Then Brenda smiled and put her head on his shoulder and gave him a big hug which she held as she said into his ear, "I can see that you need a hug too. Anytime you need one, you know where to find me." She continued to hold on tight as she nestled into him.

Something broke inside Joey. He leaned his head back slightly and closed his eyes. He felt as if he was absorbing the energies that the Hope House, the girls, and especially Brenda were providing. The nervousness was fading away. He knew he was right where he needed to be and he knew that this was where he wanted to be. His eyes watered as he breathed in her aura while a small contented smile formed on his face.

Even though she hadn't heard what Brenda had said, Laura was staring in amazement at the interactions of Josie and Brenda. She saw the contentment and smile on her boyfriend's face, and then she saw the tears slowly crawl down his cheek. She could tell that these were tears of relief and happiness and it caused her to tear up too. Joey finally opened up his eyes, but held tightly to his new friend. He glanced over at Laura and saw her tears, but couldn't tell what expression she had because of the hands across her face. He smiled at her to let her know that everything was okay. Before Laura could react, Brenda leaned back and started talking again."Would you like to see our new swing set? We could even try it out if you want to."

The rest of the time they were there, Josie took charge of pushing Brenda and all the girls on the swing set. Laura helped on the nearby merry go round while keeping one eye on her beau. She could see that he was having a wonderful time. Quite a bit later, Laura came over and grabbed Joey by his shoulder. "Time to go Josie. It's time for everyone's dinner." She could tell he was disappointed, but he cheered up as every girl in sight waved at him and called out as they went inside for dinner, "Goodnight Josie, please come back and play with us again." He smiled and waved back to them.

On the way back to the parking lot, Laura giggled at the bouncy steps and big smile on Joey's face. "It looks like someone had fun today. We're going to meet my sisters and their guys for dinner."

He barely heard her speak, but when they were in the car, he started rambling with excitement. "I can't believe how much fun that was. You told me it would be fun, but I was nervous about dressing up, but after awhile, I didn't even think about being in a dress. All the girls were great and Brenda is a real treat don't you think?"

Laura giggled at him and patted his knee with a big smile. "You were great sweetie. The girls really love you. I was watching you the whole time, and I could see it was more than just fun, especially with Brenda."

"I can't explain it, but it was like she was looking inside me, searching my soul. When she hugged me, it felt like something inside me was released, and I felt like I was home with all my family. In all my life, I've never had that feeling."

As they pulled into a popular seafood restaurant, he was still talking about his adventure and how he was looking forward to going back and visiting again soon. Laura just smiled and nodded her head as he continued.

When they had parked, she got out of the car and started towards the restaurant with Joey hand in hand. Suddenly, Joey stopped and lowered his voice. "Laura, I can't go in dressed like this. Can't we go back and change first?"

Laura took him by the hand and started to guide him to the restaurant door. "Don't be silly Josie, you look great. No one will even notice you and besides, all my brothers will be here and they are all still dressed from their visit with the girls."

He held on to her hand tightly and nervously crept into the restaurant towards the back. A reserved table was located off of the main floor. It was an ideal place for some privacy. Three of her sisters and their husbands were already seated and the other pair was right behind them. Laura and he sat together and held hands under the table. He was still quite a bit nervous about his attire, but as time passed, he seemed to relax a little more. He noticed how comfortable all the other men were in their dresses and he didn't notice any unusual recognitions by the other patrons.

The wives all ordered for themselves and their husbands. Laura asked if it would be okay for her to order theirs also. Since he had never been there before, he appreciated her offer and she ordered from experience. After their drinks were served, Joey started to get really comfortable as both the wives and husbands were very friendly and included him in most of the conversations. When they heard that he was meeting Mrs. Gillihan at her house tomorrow, they suggested having dinner together in the early evening and then chill and socialize so they could get to know each other better. They were sure that their mother would love to be the hostess.

Joey was now much more comfortable with all the Gillihans so when he looked at Laura and she nodded in agreement, he happily accepted their invitation. On their way out of the restaurant, Joey felt a lot less nervous walking out between the customers than he did going in.

When they returned to the villa, they both decided to relax together for the rest of the night, while watching TV and maybe a movie. Laura smiled and nodded once in awhile as Joey continued his rambling about his day and the opportunities that may come his way. Laura left later so that she would have some time to talk with her mother about the events of the day. 

The next morning, after Joey had finished breakfast, he drove to the Gillihan house to have his meeting with the matriarch. She was quite pleased with the reports about him from the whole family. They had reported how comfortable he had become when he was interacting with the girls. They all had agreed that Josie made a very passable woman. She also mentioned that Laura was quite taken by him and wanted to help him as much as possible during his stay. Laura blushed with a smile and took hold of Joey's hand.

When Joey responded, he told her how much he had enjoyed his visit to the Hope House. He said that writing their history would be an honor for him and he would love to have the opportunity. He smiled brightly and turned to Laura as he admitted to her mother that he was quite taken by her daughter too.

Mrs. Gillihan confirmed that she would like to officially hire Joseph to work on the writing project and he could get started next week. She confirmed the invite for an evening dinner tonight as an opportunity to get to know the Gillihan family and for them to get to know him. She looked at Laura and said, "We've decided tonight will be a Family Game Night, so dress accordingly."

Joey was curious what that meant, but decided he would wait until he and Laura were alone to ask her what was in store for the evening. Joey felt very fortunate when he was told that the villa would be his while he was here. He and Laura drove there in a very good mood. Back at the villa, Joey asked Laura about Family Game Night.

"My family gets together a lot. We have barbeques and picnics with everyone enjoying each other's company. The children and adults have a great time together. Family Game Night is a night for the adults only. The children have their own sleepover and are well taken care of. The adults have dinner, then may play some cards or just sit around, watching sports or a movie. Later on, mother and the married couples go into the Playroom and have some adult fun."

Joey's eyes opened wide in curiosity. "Adult fun?"

She giggled and answered, "You and I are not invited for those games, married couples only, but maybe you'll get to see it one day."

Before he could think, he replied with a smile, "Be careful what you say Ms. Gillihan, you might give me some ideas. And what about your mother's comment, dress accordingly?"

"It's not uncommon for us to spend time at the Hope House before we meet, so it's just easier for the guys to remain in disguise. The ladies might wear a costume too, and that makes the night more fun and interesting. You'll go in costume like the rest of the guys, but there will only be our family there so you shouldn't feel uncomfortable. Maybe we can stop by and say hi to the girls on our way there?"

The last comment made Joey smile and he almost forgot about the restlessness caused by the rest of Laura's explanation. Joey and Laura did indeed stop to visit the girls on the way to Family Night and just like the last visit, Joey had a great time and Laura had to drag him away.

When they arrived at Mrs. Gillihan's house, everyone was already there. Joey was relieved to see all the guys in disguise too. He felt very welcome when Mrs. Gillihan, her daughters, and their husbands all came over and gave him a hug or a handshake. The ladies went into the large family room where the TV was on. They talked and laughed as they glanced at the movie that was showing. The men all gathered around the grill outside while laughing and joking around with each other. The brothers made Joey feel very welcome. He helped set the table and serve the food as the ladies made their way into the dining area.

Dinner was great and everyone was having a great time talking, laughing, and being loud. After dinner, the ladies gathered on the patio to enjoy the drinks that their husbands had provided, while the guys went in to relax in front of a game on the TV. Again, Joey was very comfortable talking with the guys about anything that came up.

He asked them about their relationship with the Hope House and they all agreed that it was an important and special part of their life. "How about the dressing up part?" he added. "Are you comfortable with that too?"

Lisa's husband Steven answered, "It was a bit strange at first, but I think we all agree that we're used to it now and certainly don't mind getting into disguise for the chance to mingle with the girls."

LuAnn's husband Michael continued the thought. "After awhile, we barely even noticed our costumes." He put his hands under his chest and pushed up his breasts with a big smile. "Eventually we all had some small implants put in so it would be more convincing and easier to maintain. They're big enough to help us pass when the inspectors come around and small enough that we can wrap them up when we dress regularly as guys." 

Joey was surprised when Michael mentioned the implants, but he understood the importance of the need for the disguise so that they could mingle freely with the girls.

Later on, Joseph was sitting next to Mrs. Gillihan on the sofa as the family goofed around with each other and talked a little bit about the Hope House. Mrs. Gillihan spoke to Joseph as she put her hand on his forearm. "Joseph, I'll be expecting you to ask me for an interview once you get going on the book. Elizabeth and I were residents of the Hope House for a time. That is where we became best friends. I was very fortunate that my adopted parents, the Gillihans, took a liking to me, and I became part of their family at a very young age. Elizabeth stayed at the Hope House until she graduated from high school, but we were still almost inseparable. She would be a good person for you to interview too. She also suggested that she could be your editor if you are comfortable with that arrangement."

Joey perked up and smiled, "I would be honored to have her as an advisor on this project. Be assured that Dr. Knight and you will be at the top of my list for interviews."

For the next few months, Joey and Laura spent most of their time together and a lot of time at the Hope House. They researched the journals and massive amount of information that Ms. Brady had saved and stored. Their personal time together included some downtown shopping trips, mostly with Joey dressed in disguise. He got comfortable walking with Laura as two girlfriends enjoying a day out. Laura had bought Joey a present that he could wear on their first ladies only shopping trip. He loved the blue flower dress she had bought for him, but especially loved the smile on Laura's face as she said, "Blue is your color sweetie. I love you so much."

It wasn't too much later that the thoughts of marriage were being hinted at and the whole family had caught on to the connection between Laura and Joey. When Laura was gone for a couple of days to a college recruiter's conference, Mrs. Gillihan invited Joey over for dinner and conversation. After their wonderful dinner, they went into her office to relax and talk.

"Joseph, I guess it's no secret that you and Laura have become quite close, so I thought I would tell you more about what joining our family would mean."




Compromise Ch. 02



I can't believe it's been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this story ... sorry! Please look for chapter 1 if you would like to see how exactly this began. The basic summary is that Adam, who has been happily married to Brenda for six years, recently confessed to her his lifelong fantasy of domination. He has convinced Brenda to give it a try. Thanks for your constructive comments. 

***** 

When I woke up, it was almost midnight and I was starving. We'd ordered Chinese takeout earlier that night, but anticipation had taken over for both of us, and we hadn't finished even half of our usual order. 

I rolled over and realized Brenda's half of the bed empty. I found her in the kitchen, just pulling food out of the microwave. Her hair was a tousled mess, and she had pulled on only a giant T-shirt and the panties I'd instructed she wear earlier in the evening. 

"Hey," she said, offering me a bowl and chopsticks without having to ask. 

If it was possible to fall in love with the same person for a second time, I'm pretty sure I experienced it. 

"Thanks," I said, setting them down on the kitchen counter and pulling her in for a kiss. When I let her go again, she had a smile on her face. 

"You're welcome," she said, getting out another bowl for herself. "I should've eaten more earlier. Turns out I could've used all the energy I could get." 

I smiled at her lighthearted tone, but I wanted more information. "Whenever you're ready, I'd like to talk about it. But if you need to think about it more, that's fine too." 

She just nodded and, still standing at the counter, put the first bite of Chinese food into her mouth. I elected to sit at one of our counter stools, but joined her. 

The greasy hit of MSG was just the perk-up that I needed. I settled into the meal, but I couldn't help but watch Brenda's face to try and read her, a habit of mine that greatly annoyed her. 

As she quickly let me know. "You said we could talk about it whenever I was ready," she reminded me between bites of beef chow mein. 

"I know. And I meant it. Sorry," I said, trying to think about other things. But my gaze kept returning to her, and it would have even if we hadn't just had the most amazing, fantasy-fulfilling sex I could remember. I mean, she was just so goddamn beautiful, it was hardly my fault. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but with good humor, and she walked around the counter to settle in the seat next to me. A little gingerly, I noticed, and I couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. "Luckily for you, I think I'm ready to talk about it," she said. 

"Thank God. I might not have made it through the night." 

Brenda laughed. "Well?" 

"That's what I was going to ask you," I said. 

"Me first. What did you think?" 

I supposed that was fair. "I thought it was amazing," I said immediately. "Everything went pretty much exactly how I wanted. You couldn't have been better for me if I'd dreamed you up." 

Brenda smirked, but I saw she was flattered. And maybe a little relieved? Maybe she'd been nervous too? "I'm glad," she said. 

"Now your turn?" I suggested. 

Brenda took a moment, put a new bite of food in her mouth, chewed it thoroughly. I waited, hoping I looked patient, even though I was on the edge of my seat. As in, I thought I could easily fall off the stool if she took much longer to respond. 

"I liked it," she said finally. 

I let out an exhale in a huge whoosh, a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Brenda laughed. "Mostly," she added. 

"I'm glad now, too. Really, really glad," I emphasized. "Like, really, really. I tried really hard." 

"I could tell, actually," she said thoughtfully, "and I wasn't really expecting that. But it seemed like you had put a lot of thought into it. And you were doing a lot of guessing what I was feeling. You were pretty good at it." She shot a look at me, then jokingly bemoaned, "Finally, an advantage to being married for six years." 

"Well, there are also the tax benefits," I said, deadpan. 

We laughed together. We were joking about it, but I was pretty sure our long relationship really had made a huge difference. I knew so many of her tones, her postures, the looks in her eye. Maybe if I was more experienced at the dominant side of things, I would have been able to read any woman, but I wouldn't bet on it. And Brenda had benefited, too. Even though she'd never heard about these fantasies of mine, I was pretty sure she could interpret my orders and requests more completely than I could even express them. 

Which led me to a specific question. "The spanking. Was it too much?" 

Brenda shifted in her stool, which set off a tiny spark in my cock as I remembered the image of her pinkened ass. "I mean, it really hurt. But I guess it wasn't too much." 

"How about when I made you beg?" I saw the tiny blush rise in Brenda's cheeks, which was both adorable and sexy. More twinges to my cock. Ignore it, I told myself. "Did I wait too long? Did you know what I wanted?" 

She rolled her eyes at me again. This time, it was in effort to act like my words didn't have any effect on her, but her blushes never lied. "Yeah, yeah, I knew what you wanted. You've tried to do that before, and I've never given in. But I always kind of had an inkling that you wanted ... like ..." Her words trailed off and her blush deepened. I guessed she was too embarrassed to describe it. 

She was right. I'd always wanted her to beg, openly. To scream my name, to say "please" over and over again. To beg for me to stop, or to start, or whatever. I liked that feeling of control. I liked making her acknowledge it, vocally, with words like "please" and "sir." 

And I'd gotten it, so I wouldn't be a dickhead by teasing her over it now. So, "Okay, good," I said. "I just didn't want you to feel like the spanking was going on too long and you didn't know how to stop it." 

"I knew," she said. "But that does bring me to another point. You told me I had to ask you to blindfold me, or you might add a gag. I felt like I didn't have a choice. Because if I had a gag, there was no way I could say our safe word." 

I looked at her in surprise. "Shit. I didn't even think about that. Brenda, I'm sorry." 

"That's okay," she said. 

"It's not. We'll work out hand signals." 

"You could just never gag me," she pointed out. 

I let my grin be a little wicked that time. "I don't plan to make that promise." 

She bit her lip. She was having sexy thoughts again. That seemed like a good sign, so I pushed on. "Now the million dollar question. Will you do it again?" 

Her lips parted. Her answer was ready, but she didn't want to seem too eager. That was okay. I didn't like playing games all the time, but every once in a while, you needed them to keep things interesting. 

"Yeah, I guess," she said with a shrug. 

I couldn't help but chuckle out loud. "So you liked it, but you don't want to admit it." 

She tossed her hair and said primly, "I suppose there were some nice parts." 

I stood up and took both our bowls to the sink. "I want to hear which were the nice parts. I want to hear you describe them. With a lot of detail." 

She squirmed in her chair again. Made me think about that ass again, that beautiful shade of red I'd made it. I was half-hard now. "Maybe another time." 

"Mm-hmm," I said, taking her hand to pull her off her stool. "And I want to see that ass of yours before we go back to sleep. Research purposes only." 

"I bet," she said, but she was smiling. "One more question. The nipple clamps. Those things! What the fuck?" She didn't sound angry, just amazed. Maybe even a little aroused again, I could see it in her eyes. 

"I know, right?!" I agreed with her, leading her back towards bed. 

"How would you know?" she asked, fairly enough. 

I hesitated, and then, as we climbed into bed, I told her the story—how I'd tried them on myself, a few times actually, so that I could practice tightening and loosening them. As expected, she reacted with peals of laughter. 

"And that stopwatch you gave me last Christmas came in handy," I told her. "I timed myself, a bunch of times. So that I could know how long to keep them on you." 

"I'm just picturing you sitting at your office with nipple clamps on under your work clothes, staring at a stopwatch," she giggled. 

"Mm, and now I'm picturing you doing that," I said, running a hand up her thigh. She swatted at me playfully, but I left my hand there, toying with her smooth skin. 

"So how many minutes was I wearing them, anyway?" she asked. 

"I'm not telling you." 

Brenda pouted. I couldn't resist adding, "But you lasted five minutes less than I did." 

Her eyes widened with outrage. "What?! No fucking way! You are way wimpier than I am. I had a lot more going on, I'll have you know." 

"Hm, I don't really remember," I said teasingly. "You'd better show me that pretty pink ass and remind me." 

She swatted at me again, but when I caught her hand and pulled her in for a kiss, I knew from her response that just talking about it had turned her on again. Which was very good news for me. I was going to have to get started on planning our next session. 

Right after this ... 

*** 

A couple months passed, and we'd found the time to have four more sessions. We explored a little variety pack-I tied her up and gagged her one time, we played with some ice. I pushed her pain tolerance a little, but not too much, and was finding that she was always dripping wet after a spanking. In fact, Brenda enjoyed herself almost all of the time, although there were one or two things that we did that gave her pause. We'd discuss it afterwards, like we had after the first session about her safe word, and work it out. 

As for me, I was in heaven. I felt invigorated. For one thing, I was finally fulfilling fantasies I'd had ever as long as I could remember. And for another, as cliche as it might sound, I felt closer to Brenda than ever. Having honest, open discussions about our sex life was actually really good for us. It might not sound romantic, but delineating what we did and didn't want gave both of us a lot of freedom when we did finally dive into a session, and opened up the experience. 

Brenda had a hard list of no's that she was maintaining. We'd only discussed it verbally before that first session, but then she'd pointed out, rightfully, that if she ever changed her mind about anything, it wasn't like she'd want to come out and tell me-too much like an invitation, she explained. Plus, I knew that she had her shy moments. I could see her point, so I came up with the idea of keeping a living document on our computer, one that she could update whenever she needed to, without telling me. 

Of course, I was keeping close tabs on that document. And there came the day that "Public outings" was quietly stricken from the record. 

By the time our next appointment came around, I was ready. 

At 6:30 on the dot on another Saturday evening, I walked over to the sink where Brenda was doing dishes, and turned off the water. She looked at me, confused for a second, before glancing at the clock. "Oh, shit, I didn't even-" 

"Curses don't fall into the category of speaking respectfully, do they?" 

The look Brenda's gave me turned from surprised to annoyed to resigned in the space of a second. She closed her mouth and I could almost visibly see her counting to three to calm herself. She still had trouble getting into the mood at the beginning. It wasn't a huge issue for me yet, but I didn't exactly like it either. 

"No, sir," Brenda muttered. If I could guess, she'd thrown in that 'sir' because she knew she was already in trouble. 

"I'll keep that in mind for later," I told her. "For now, you'll find an outfit for you on the bed. Put on some makeup, too. Oh, and please be ready in fifteen minutes." 

I looked her in the eye and added, "We're going out." 

Brenda bit her lip. She'd only updated her list two days ago-and now she knew just how closely I was watching it. 

She just nodded, and went into the bedroom. 

I stayed in the kitchen, finishing up the last of the dishes before grabbing myself a beer. In our room, Brenda would find a lacy bra and a matching thong, the highest heels she owned, and a dark blue dress that she'd tried on two weeks ago and deemed "too slutty" to buy. I had returned to the store and bought it the next day. It was tight and slid over her curves perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination, with a low-cut top and short skirt. At the time, I'd just planned to have her wear it for me in the house, but this would be much better. 

While Brenda got ready, I grabbed one of her medium-sized purses and loaded it with the supplies I'd put together the night before. I wasn't sure I'd use everything, but it paid to be prepared. Then I settled back on the couch and sipped my beer. 

When 6:50 rolled around and she still wasn't out of the room, my eyes narrowed. 

She finally came out another five minutes later. And damn, she looked amazing. She was showing way more skin than she ever would have chosen to, the dress exposing the tops of her breasts and more than half of her smooth, toned thighs. The heels emphasized the strength of her calves and legs. And while I don't know a lot about makeup, her eyes were dark and smoky and super sexy, and she'd had on some bold lipstick that I didn't even know she owned. 

"Come here," was all I said. 

She came and stood by me at the couch, her eyes full of the knowledge that she looked sexy as hell. I had to guess that she was expecting me to compliment her, maybe make out with her. If we didn't have plans, that's exactly what I would have done. 

Instead, I let my gaze settle on her, no smile on my face, hoping to radiate annoyance. The way her eyebrows furrowed, I think I succeeded. 

"You took ten minutes longer than I asked." 

She glanced at the clock as if noticing it for the first time. Actually, there is no clock in our bedroom, so maybe she really was. "Oh, Adam, fifteen minutes is really-" 

"You're clearly having an issue with time management today. Bend over my lap." 

Brenda flushed. "What?" 

"Don't make me ask you again," I said, my words deliberate and slow. 

It had to be difficult in the heels. I realized that as I watched her slowly, reluctantly lower until she was on her knees next to me. She chewed on her lip and regarded my thighs for a couple moments but didn't dare to look up at me. I didn't try to help her, just sat there, waiting. 

She sighed, probably realizing that kneeling next to me was almost as embarrassing as the alternative, and crawled over my lap. 

The dress was short enough and had ridden up enough that I could almost see her ass cheeks already, but I tugged it further northward so that the tiny scrap of lace covering her pussy was visible. I rested one of my palms on her ass and the other in her hair, not pulling, but holding it firmly. "Brenda, you know we had plans to go out tonight. You've already made us late for them," I lectured. "And now you're making us even later because I have to start disciplining you." She squirmed a little. "And don't misunderstand me, this will not be your whole punishment. But I'm going to start now." 

I waited, wondering if she'd remember what we'd talked about last time I'd given her a spanking for punishment. She'd called me a 'motherfucker' that time, and I'd told her that whenever she was going to be punished, she would have to ask for it. 

Finally, her voice came, small and miffed, although she tried to hide the annoyance. "Yes, sir, I understand," she said. "Please, ah, please spank me." 

"Good girl," I said, and lifted my hand. 

I let it rest in the air for a second before giving her the first smack. She yelped, more from surprise than pain, because this was not a hard spanking at all. More of a warm-up for both of us. I spanked her all over, but focused my attention on the bottom of her ass and the tops of her thighs. 

I'd only had her over my knee a few times, including that time a few weeks ago when she'd called me a motherfucker. I was quickly realizing how enjoyable of a position it was. I liked how close she was, so that every time she squirmed it rubbed against my lap and my quickly rising cock. I wondered if she could feel it growing hard along her belly. I shifted my knee upward so that her ass jutted further into the air. 

I only spanked her for about five minutes before resting my hand on her ass, watching as she wiggled a few moments past the end of the spanking, listening to her heavy breaths. This actually hadn't been part of my plan, but it did fit in rather well. I rubbed her pinkened cheeks idly as I wondered aloud, "You know, this is a very short dress, Brenda. When we go out, you don't think anyone will be able to see that your ass is a little pink, if they look closely, do you? It looks like I did focus a lot of my spanks awfully low." 

She groaned. I was much closer to an exhibitionist than her, and the thought of someone being able to see that she'd been spanked, and even more so, her humiliation at the possibility, was thrilling to me. 

"We'll finish your punishment later," I promised. "Time to go." 

When she stood, I saw her eyes were a little glazed. Like I said, spanking had an amazing effect on this woman, and over time I was going to enjoy seeing how far it could go. 

We took the elevator down and exited the apartment building in silence. We weren't going anywhere far or exotic-just a half-bar, half-restaurant a couple of blocks away from us, one of our standbys for great food and a fun atmosphere. I told her where we were going so that she wouldn't silently hate me for the walk in those heels, and she actually smiled. 

"By the way, don't look inside your purse," I told her casually. "I put a few goodies in there, but I don't want you to see them just yet." 

The look she gave me showed her curiosity, but she just said sweetly, "Yes, sir." 

Lord, the woman could push my buttons. I know, it was nothing, there was nobody around or anything, but she called me "sir" outside the house. On the street. If someone was walking by, they could have heard her. She might have been doing it in an attempt to get out of her punishment later, but I didn't care. It was fucking exciting. I was definitely going to enjoy myself tonight. 

When we got to the restaurant, the bar was already pretty full, but we got a table without a problem. One of our usual waiters came over almost immediately. "Anything to drink?" I thought he probably recognized us, but he didn't act like it. The place wasn't exactly known for being friendly, but the service was fast and we'd never had any complaints. 

"I'll have the IPA that you have on draft," I requested. "And Brenda, how about a Blue Moon?" 

"Sounds good, sir," Brenda said absently, already perusing the menu. 

Then Brenda's chin jerked up, as if she was just realizing what she'd said. The waiter flicked a quick glance at her, but took it in stride and said "I'll put those right in." 

By the time he had turned around to leave, Brenda was already flushing bright red, the look on her face saying it all. I, meanwhile, was fighting to keep down a broad grin. 

I laid my hand on top of hers. "Hey, relax," I said. 

"Easy for you to say," she shot back at me. 

It sounded like her brief slip into the submissive role had paradoxically sharpened a determination to fight it. Well, I didn't want that. I stroked my thumb along her hand as I murmured, "Have I told you how fucking sexy you look yet?" 

She looked the tiniest bit mollified as she returned, "No, you haven't." 

I smiled at her, skimming a hand along her arm, letting my eyes drift down to her ample cleavage before returning to her face. "Well, you look beautiful," I told her. "Not only that, you look eminently fuckable. How do you feel showing off those tits for everyone?" 




Compromise Ch. 02



Brenda flushed deeper and looked around self-consciously. "It's not that obvious, is it?" 

My tone was light and teasing as I replied, "You're right, next time I'll make you dress a little sluttier." 

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly, but I could see a little smile flit across her lips. 

"See those two guys at the bar? Over there on your right. They've been looking at you since we walked in." 

Even as she glanced at them, one of the men was staring at her chest. Caught in the act, he quickly turned back to the TV at the bar. 

"What, do you like that?" she asked me. 

"I do," I confided, moving my hand to her knee. "And do you know why?" As Brenda shook her head, I let my hand drift northward until it touched the hem of her dress, and I watched her breathing shift slightly at the knowledge of it. "Other men can want you, but they can't have you." My fingers slid just an inch under her dress along her inner thigh. Her lips parted. "Because you're mine, Brenda." 

"IPA?" 

Brenda jolted backwards at the waiter's voice, pulling her leg away from me abruptly, a dead giveaway if I'd ever seen one. I couldn't help but smile at her reaction that time, and I thought I saw a little smirk on our waiter's face, too. 

"And a Blue Moon," he said, setting down Brenda's beer. "Are you guys ready to order, or do you need some more time?" 

Luckily, both of us knew this menu backwards and forwards, so we didn't have any trouble ordering. From what we ordered-a soup for her, salad for me-it was evident that neither of us were too hungry. 

"Cheers," I said, lifting my glass. 

"Cheers," Brenda muttered, and took several gulps of beer. 

I made conversation about "normal" things for a few minutes, letting the beer settle into her and giving her a chance to calm down a bit. She was doing great, but seemed a little skittish about the new setting, which was only to be expected. 

I didn't wait too long before my next move, though. I wanted momentum to stay on my side. 

"Okay, Brenda," I said gently. "Go to the bathroom and bring your purse. There's a little blue bag inside. I want you to put on what's in the blue bag." My voice grew a little stricter. "Don't take too long in there either-you don't want to make things any worse for yourself." 

She pressed her lips together, assessing my face, trying to guess what she was getting herself into now. I kept my expression blank and waited. 

"Okay," she said finally, and stood. 

While she was sitting the dress had ridden up a couple extra inches, so the guys at the bar and I got a great glance of those creamy thighs before she pulled it back down. She took her purse and went. 

It felt like ages. I forced myself to stare at the TV. I picked up my beer and looked at it, surprised, when it was empty. 

"Another?" the waiter said, appearing out of nowhere. 

"Yes, please," I said. 

And then Brenda reappeared in the back, her cheeks all pink yet again, that blush apparent even from several tables away. 

As she drew closer I silently thanked God that everything had worked out as I'd hoped. That lacy bra I'd chosen was unlined, and the fabric of the dress was just the right weight, so that now you could see the outline of her nipples and, if you looked closely, maybe a little something else? Meanwhile, there was discomfort and self-awareness written all over Brenda's face as she carefully, slowly picked her way back towards me. Her lips were parted slightly and she seemed to be breathing heavily, exaggerating the rise and fall of those hard nipples. I watched her every movement as she slid into her seat. 

She just sat there, quiet, her tongue running over her lips, her eyes heated on mine. 

I finally broke our gaze only to glance at the waiter, who was appearing with my beer. If I wasn't mistaken, his hand paused and his eyes lingered on my wife for a second before he nodded at us and left again. 

I could hardly blame him. Even if he didn't know the full extent of what was going on, it was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes off Brenda. 

"Tell me what happened in there. With details." 

Brenda bit her lip and my gaze fell to that full mouth of hers. "I, uh, went to the bathroom. I opened up the bag-" 

"How did you feel on the way to the bathroom?" I prompted her. "Details, remember." We'd gone over this before; I'd tortured her with ice and asked her to describe it the entire time. 

Brenda nodded. "Sorry, sir ... On the way there I felt nervous. And self-conscious. After you pointed out how those men have been looking at me ..." 

She looked over at them as she said it. Bad timing on her part, considering she was already feeling self-conscious-one of them was staring again, obviously entranced by the sight of those hard nipples visible through her dress. He coughed and looked away, and Brenda grabbed her beer in consternation. She took another big gulp. 

I should add that Brenda is a great dresser, but she's modest. I've heard her complain in Victoria's Secret plenty of times about finding bras that aren't huge push-ups but will still hide her nipples, so this was obviously not her style. Which was making this moment all the more enjoyable for me. So I gave her the time she needed to compose herself. 

"So, yeah, I felt self-conscious, and like this dress is way too tight and short," she said, the slightest hint of accusation in her voice. "Anyway, so when I got inside the bathroom, I opened the blue bag like you asked, and inside I saw ..." Her voice lowered a couple more decibels, although nobody would have been able to hear her inside the noisy bar anyway. "I saw the clamps." 

"You mean the nipple clamps," I said at a normal volume, and Brenda winced. 

"Yes, sir, I saw the nipple clamps," she rushed on, her voice still quiet, but clearly hoping to cut off anything explicit I might say. "I couldn't believe it, I was sure they'd completely show through everything I was wearing. I, ah, thought about ... I mean, it took me a few seconds just to get up the courage to ..." 

She gulped. I rested my hand on her inner knee again, tugging so that her legs parted slightly. She turned more towards me so that she could close them again. I grinned and let my fingers trail up her inner thigh once more. 

"Go on." 

"So, I figured I had to do it, so I started touching my nipples-" 

"Did you take your bra off?" 

"Ah, no. I, um, the dress is pretty stretchy, so I just, um. I guess I pulled my dress and bra down so my nipples were exposed." She squirmed, both at what she was admitting to and at the feel of my fingers slowly but surely inching farther up her leg and into inappropriate territory. 

"Got it. So your tits were poking up out of your dress." A delightful picture if there ever was one. 

"I guess so," she demurred. Her cheeks were a constant shade of pretty pink now. She took a deep breath, followed quickly by another drink of her beer. 

"Then I started pinching my nipples-" 

"Don't move away from me this time," I ordered her, half a second before the waiter showed up with our dinner. 

Brenda froze. My hand was more than halfway up her inner thigh and definitely under the hemline of her dress, and the waiter was just a foot away. But nothing we were doing looked overly inappropriate, and besides, we were close to the wall and none of our antics were too obvious unless you looked closely. And although the guys at the bar and our waiter were definitely keeping tabs on us, they hardly seemed like they'd raise a stink about anything we did. 

"Salad," the waiter said, depositing my plate in front of me. "And the baked potato soup. Can I get you anything else?" 

"I think we're all set," I said. 

Neither of us moved to touch our plates after he'd left. My fingers were making little circles on Brenda's inner thigh now. I could feel the tension in her leg and every now and then she twitched a little as if to move closer to me. 

I raised my eyebrows at her, and gamely, she went on. "So I was pinching my nipples," she said, with less hesitation now as her inhibitions were swept aside by her arousal. "It felt really good. I was touching both of them at the same time, pulling and maybe twisting just a little bit." 

"I know how you like that." 

"Yes, I do." Her voice was almost a whisper. "And then I put the first clamp on ... the left one ..." She was getting better with the details now. "It was shocking more than anything, although it hurt some too. But I gave it a few seconds, kept pinching the other one, and it started to feel good. So I pinched my right nipple really hard, and pulled on it some, and then I put the clamp on that one too ... That hurt too, but just for a couple seconds, and then the sensation dulled. And it just felt ... um ..." She squirmed a little and I glanced down at those nipples, so tempting, poking out from under the fabric. "It felt really good," she said quietly, lustfully. "It made me want to touch myself. And when I pulled my bra and the dress back up, it pressed the clamps even closer to me and I almost moaned out loud in the bathroom." 

Hm, she was getting a lot better at the details. 

I'd given her a pair of tweezer nipple clamps that I'd had her try on before. They shouldn't be too tight, so she could have them on for a little while in case I got carried away. And as I'd guessed, they looked great under a dress. I smiled at her and lifted my hand from her thigh, pleased at the slight pout on her face when I let her go. "Good girl. Did you touch yourself?" 

She shook her head no. 

"Do you think you're wet?" 

This time she slowly nodded yes. 

"I guess we'll find out soon. Meanwhile, I think your soup might be getting cold." 

"I'm not that hungry," Brenda said, a glint of mischief in her eye. 

I smiled at her, a genuine one. "I have a feeling both of us will need our strength," I said honestly. 

I forced myself to come up with some mundane subjects to talk about while we finished our light dinners. But it was pretty obvious neither of us were very into the conversation. When her bowl was finally empty, I put my hand on her inner thigh again, too impatient to start at her knee this time. I was almost ready to take her home, but there was one more part of this particular fantasy that I really wanted. 

"I want you to go back to the bathroom," I told her, enjoying how her legs parted this time, just slightly, automatically, at my touch. "Take off the nipple clamps. And your panties." Her eyes widened, but I went on. I knew my voice was showing my impatience now, but I couldn't help it anymore. "On your way back, when you reach the entrance to the room, I want you to drop your purse and bend down to pick it up, legs apart, so that you're showing off your ass to all of us." 

She swallowed and true distress entered her eyes. It took her a couple of seconds to find her words, but when she did, they were disappointing. "Sir, please, I can't do that." 

I could tell from her tone and the look on her face that this wasn't some idle protest, but that this was truly a limit for her. "Which part?" I asked calmly. 

"The, ah, part where I bend over," she said, looking down. 

Internally I breathed a small sigh of relief, although I tried to keep my face stern. Having her pussy bare under that dress had been my main goal, and I could accept it if she wouldn't bend over and show off for the restaurant patrons. 

Not that I was planning to let her get off that easily. "Why not?" 

She pressed her lips together, drawing my attention to them, and then admitted in a very small voice, "I'm worried people will see my ... pussy. Sir." 

It was a valid point. The entrance to the room was very close to the two guys at the bar who had been ogling her all night, and I'm sure they would have been paying very, very close attention if she pulled a stunt like that. Considering I'd told her to keep her legs apart, there was a good chance her pussy would be flashing to the world as well. Of course, that had been a large part of the whole exercise. 

I kept the stern look on my face and decided to use this to my advantage. "If you don't do that part, you know you will have to be punished." 

My beautiful wife worried her lip with her teeth for a moment, and I saw how truly uncomfortable she was. "I know, sir," she said quietly, accepting her fate. 

"Then you can skip it," I told her. "But go and take off those nipple clamps and your panties for me, like a good girl." 

She looked back up at me with relief in her eyes. "Yes, sir." 

Holy shit. Had I just called her a good girl in public, and she had responded by calling me sir? Outside of the house? In a restaurant? Had I mentioned how amazing this was, and how out of character for my headstrong wife? 

I watched her leave, hoping my dick, half-hard, would return to normal by the time I had to stand up. The waiter was just returning my credit card when Brenda reappeared in the hall from the bathroom, in the very spot I asked her to bend over for everyone to see. I had to grin as the waiter seemed to forget himself for a second, just standing there, watching Brenda's flushed cheeks, those rock-hard nipples still evident even though she'd taken off the clamps, her self-conscious tugging down of the dress which only served to highlight just how short it was. 

"Hope you guys have a great evening," the waiter said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. And he didn't even know that her pussy was now deliciously exposed under that dress. 

"Oh, I'm sure we will," I muttered. 

The waiter was gone by the time Brenda sat down, which meant it was clear for me to tell her, "Give me the panties." 

Brenda's mouth dropped open for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. "What?" 

"Give me your panties," I repeated slowly, holding out my hand. 

She nearly sputtered, but I just sat expectantly, waiting. She was already in trouble for multiple reasons, and I'm sure she remembered it. 

Finally, she reached slowly into her purse and pulled something out, trying to keep it fully concealed in her hand as she reached across the table and handed it to me. 

I took the scrap of lace from her and left my hand open for a couple of seconds, pretending to examine it. I didn't really want anyone to see her panties, but I wanted her to know that someone could see it. 

I stuck the panties in my pocket, enjoying the shocked look on her face. "You know, these are soaked," I said in a conversational tone, although inside I was exulting in the knowledge of how turned on she had gotten over the course of the evening. 

"Yes, sir," she said meekly. 

"Spread your legs a little." 

Her breath quickened again, but I felt her shift underneath the table. I kept my eyes on her as I once more placed my hand on her inner thigh, no longer having the strength to take my time. My fingers skimmed up quickly, racing under her dress until they just brushed her pussy lips. When I pulled my hand back, her eyes were fiery with lust and my fingertips were wet. 

I put those fingertips to her mouth and obediently she sucked them in, flicking her tongue across them automatically and holding my gaze as she tasted herself. 

So much for letting my dick soften before I stood up. 

"Good girl," I choked out, hoping my voice sounded in the vicinity of normal. 

The walk home was quick, but not quick enough. The whole time I couldn't keep my mind off her pussy, dripping wet with her arousal, pussy lips rubbing together in the open air as she kept pace with me. I silently cursed myself for not getting us home faster right up until the key slipped in and the lock opened. As soon as the door was closed behind us, I had my hand on the crook of her elbow, pulling her back to the couch and over my lap without ceremony, ignoring her gasp as I yanked her dress up to bare her ass. Honestly, while I loved punishing her, I was getting a little desperate to come inside of her. But I knew that first I had to fulfill the promise (or to her, the threat) to continue her punishment that I'd made at the beginning of the night. 

"This is for being late earlier," I said briefly, and unceremoniously, I began smacking her ass. 

I took out some of my frustration on her, which wasn't very helpful as it only made those frustrations grow when her whimpers and struggles sent pulses straight to my cock. God, she'd walked home without panties, on my orders, I thought to myself, spreading stinging slaps all over her naked butt. Her legs parted and closed again, her hips raised to meet my hand, signs I had grown to recognize as silent pleas for more, or for my touch. 

Without warning, I plunged a finger inside her, not surprised when she was wet enough for it to slide in fully and easily. My cock twitched against her belly at the full-bodied moan that escaped her mouth. 

"You're so fucking wet," I said, pulling my finger out slowly before burying it inside her once more. 

"Oh, God, yes, sir," she groaned, her hips pushing back against my finger, even when I kept fucking her pussy with it while I resumed spanking her with my other hand. "Yes, sir, please, more, please ..." 

I thought my dick had surely burst out of my pants by now. 

I didn't let her come over my lap. Despite the finger-fucking and all the foreplay of the night and even the spanks that still rained down on her ass, I knew she'd still need a little bit more, and I wasn't ready to give it to her. So soon I withdrew my finger and just concentrated on the spanking, enjoying the sting in my own palm as I reddened her ass to the shade that I wanted. 

When I stopped, she was still incoherently begging me. I couldn't figure out exactly what she was begging for, and I doubted she knew herself, but that didn't stop me from liking it. 

I rolled her out of my lap. "On your knees," I said, already standing and tugging open my pants. By the time she assumed the position, my dick was out, and I lost no time in brushing it against her lips. "Open," I said, and saw her swallow once before obeying. 

I wrapped my hand in her hair, tugging gently so that she looked up at me. God, the picture she made. Her lips were parted, my cock just barely resting on them, her eyes cloudy with lust and desperation. 

"Spread your knees and pull your tits out of your dress." 

She did so immediately, parting her knees so that her pussy was open to the air, forcing the hemline on that ridiculously short dress up even further. She reached in to the top of her dress to pull out her tits, up and out of her bra so that they were in the position she'd described when she put the nipple clamps on at the restaurant. Fuck! I'd fully intended to put clamps back on her, but there was no way I could stop myself now. 

"This is punishment for not showing off your ass and pussy at the bar, the way I asked you to," I told her. "Do you understand?" 

She tried to nod her head, but I tightened my grip on her hair so that she couldn't move her head. And to give her the idea of exactly what was coming. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "Yes, sir, I understand." 

I relaxed my grip on her hair just a modicum. "Hands behind your back, and they stay there," I ordered her, and pushed my cock into her mouth. 

God, the feeling as her warm, wet mouth enveloped me. Her fucking tongue, flicking tentatively on the underside of my cock as it pushed deeper inside. I looked down and wished I'd just told her to take off the fucking dress so that I could see her well-spanked ass, which was instead just barely, tantalizingly covered with the tight fabric. Her hands were obediently clasped behind her back, limiting her active participation and leaving the power to me. I left my dick halfway in her mouth for a while, breathing deeply as she worked her tongue on me, performing magic. 




Compromise Ch. 02



She'd always been great at giving blowjobs, but of course, I had something just slightly different in mind. 

I tightened my grip on her hair once more and pushed deeper. Deeper, until I was past her comfort point, and then just a half-inch deeper. And then just a little bit deeper, so that I hit the back of her throat, blocking her airway for half a second before pulling back. Her eyes were shut tight now and I could tell she was fighting down her gag reflex. 

I pulled almost all the way out before repeating the process. I didn't go too fast, although yes, I wanted to fuck her throat. Maybe one day, I thought, but that would take a lot more preparation on both of our parts. For now, this was enough, this slow push, taking her past her limits, the wetness of her tongue still dutifully darting against me even though this wasn't what she wanted, the tightness of her throat as the tip of me just barely got to experience it. Oh yes, it was enough. 

"I should come on your face to punish you," I told her while my cock was at its deepest in her mouth. Her eyes flew open then and focused on mine, and I could see the frank horror in them. 

"Lucky for you I need that wet pussy around me," I said, pulling her head off my cock and heaving her upward to kiss her. 

Our mouths met furiously, my tongue immediately reaching in to possess the space where my cock had just been. She seemed to melt into my arms, her hands slipping under my shirt to claw at my back in an effort to pull me closer. For my part, I couldn't keep my hands off her, one filling up with a tit that still hung out of the top of her dress, the other grabbing her still-warm ass to glue her crotch against mine. 

Somehow we made it into the bedroom. I let her tear off my clothes before making quick work of hers so that finally, I had her naked. I sat on the bed and pulled her to me, unable to resist filling my mouth with one of her nipples. She arched towards me with a whimper as I nipped teeth against it, sucking deeply for a second before releasing her. 

"On top," I ordered her, lying back against the pillows. "Facing away." 

She lost no time in obeying me yet again, her ass pointing invitingly towards me as she maneuvered my cock straight into her pussy. 

We both groaned as she sunk down without hesitation, my cock in her to the hilt, the passage made easy from the wetness that had been gathering in her pussy all night. Unable to control herself, she lifted all the way up and slammed down again, crying out at the feeling. I didn't have to see her face to know how close she was. 

I sat up a little, shifting inside of her. "Don't stop," I told her as I reached around for her clit. 

God, the whole area was soaking. She bounced on me with clear desperation as my fingers gathered up moisture and redirected it onto her clit. I didn't give her any lead-in, just focused on strong circles right where she needed it. My other hand reached up to hold her breast before pinching her nipple, hard. 

Her pussy clenched around me and I pulled her nipple as she came, all but screaming, her orgasm doing wonderful things for her pussy muscles and therefore my cock. I grit my teeth, holding myself back. 

"Again," I said as soon as she was done, bucking my own hips this time. I grabbed a nipple with each hand. 

"Adam, wait-" 

"Keep fucking me," I ordered her, twisting her nipples the way I knew she liked it, the way she'd described for me earlier. She gasped, her movements growing jerky with the increased sensitivity that came after her orgasm, no doubt only sharpened by the nipple clamps from earlier. I didn't care. When she couldn't seem to keep moving her hips, I fucked her instead, the force bumping her up and down while I pulled her tits forward by the nipples. It was only a little, but enough to make her drop her arms to the bed for balance as she gasped for breath, rounding that ass for my viewing pleasure. 

"I just need a second," she protested again, earning herself a quick spank to the ass before my hand reached around and rubbed her clit hard once again. Her answering moan made my ass cheeks clench and my hips jerk forward even harder. 

"No," I said, right before orgasm burst through her again, her pussy spasming and milking my cock, her breath coming and going in short, desperate whimpers that were music to my ears. I kept my fingers on her clit, my cock pumping in and out of her pussy, until her orgasm finally, slowly ebbed. 

"Okay, now you've earned a break," I said, letting go of her clit and putting my hands on her hips instead. There was a residual twitch around my cock, and I amended, "A short break." 

She laughed a little and turned her head to look at me. I loved the glow on her face, the satisfaction in her eyes. "Your turn, sir," she said slyly, lifting her hands off the bedspread to sit up fully, and she began riding me. 

God, it felt good. Even though Brenda had had two great orgasms and was sated, she still moaned as she moved on and off me, graceful once more as she rode. But after a few minutes, I knew the long build-up of the night had increased my needs. 

My hands tightened on her hips as I began to move instead. I held her in place-just that place-as I took over again, fucking her so that her pussy was pulsing around the widest part of my cock, the sensitivity coursing through me. 

I didn't miss Brenda gasp once more, the way she threw back her head and tried to move again, to take over the situation. No way in hell, I thought, holding her tighter and slamming in and out of her, watching her ass bouncing with my movements, seeing a look of disbelief in her eyes as she shot a glance back at me. Disbelief, I could guess, that she would come again. 

"Adam-oh, God-please-oh, God, Adam-" 

And then she was coming, and those unfairly delicious spasms were surrounding my cock, and then I pulled her hips down so that I filled her pussy as much as I possibly could and she came even harder. That's when I lost the battle to my own shattering, magnificent orgasm, my hips pushing of their own accord to try and somehow get even deeper inside her, as if that was even possible. Her hands fell forward onto the bed once more and it shifted her pussy around my cock, wringing what had to be the very last of my orgasm out of me, until the entirety of her pussy squeezed so tight around me that I thought I would burst, and I groaned out loud until my orgasm slowly shuddered to a halt.



Compromised



It all started a few weeks ago.

OK, I'm going to make no excuses here. I was young and male and single. I was going through a dark and depressing part of my life, where I was having to face up to some harsh realities about someone I had regarded as one of my closest friends and a potential lover. Bluntly, I was waking up to the fact that several promises that I had taken on faith had been based on a tissue of lies that were now being torn apart with a brutality that was taking my breath away. Suddenly, the most committed relationship I had ever had, was no longer with the owner of that soft, sweet voice on the end of the telephone or those words on my computer screen. Those early days where we took solace in the gradual discovery that we were kindred spirits, separated by thousands of miles and united by mere chance. Those 'phone calls where we shared our hopes and dreams for the future, exchanged our mutual ideologies and discovered fresh common ground. Those long, long conversations where we shared our erotic fantasies and always finished off with gasps and moans, as we each listened to the other frantically clinging to that series of moments and movements that would bring about our powerful orgasms, bask in an afterglow that we could never quite share with each other and delay that final, brutal and very lonely click and buzz of a telephone being hung up, leaving us to our sweaty sheets and our very individual loneliness. 

OK. Yeah. I admit it. It was an internet relationship and was probably doomed right from the start. How can someone really get that close to someone they've never even met? I could kid myself for hours about the fact that the lack of a physical presence made communication and mental interaction that bit more important and thus deepen the connection between two people. Oh, I knew all the excuses. I'd made them too often. But an internet relationship – like any relationship – is dependant on communication and communication is dependant on honesty. And... yeah... she had lied. She was married. She was married, there was no future and one day... without warning... it was all over.

I didn't take it well.

Masturbation after that was half-hearted at best, and I found that the desire to even do that much had virtually disappeared. Days on end would go past, with no desire to do anything at all. My erections were half-hearted and short-lived and would slink back into flaccidity, when I simply ignored them. That's all my cock ever did at all, in fact – just slink. From three times a day (and that was on a slow day) it was now getting no attention at all. On the couple of occasions where I did set out to chase down that solitary orgasm, I was left all too conscious of the similarities, rather than the differences with how it had been during that long-distance relationship – with the exception that without the click and buzz of the 'phone to trigger it off, the bleakness set in right from the first moment I'd lay hands on myself.

I needed some kind of a distraction to take my mind off what I had lost. Not alcohol, because I don't drink alone and not drugs because... well, alcohol is my drug of choice. Not a choice made through judgement or morality – I just wasn't overly inclined to experiment in that direction. I'd had the occasional misadventure with weed, a disappointing experiment with coke and a highly enjoyable night when I'd taken some speed while I'd been out drinking with a couple of friends – but on the whole, I was a social drinker and that was it.

Exercise seemed right. Get the endorphins flowing and do myself some good at the same time. So one evening I decided to go swimming. And I knew the perfect place to go. I'd been planning to pay a visit for ages and one night – in a moment of rare motivation – I decided that it was time to go.

It was on Clerk Street. There was an old cinema that had been unable to keep pace with the competition provided by the various multiplexes that were springing up all over the city and had gone out of business. Boarded up and abandoned, a tragic victim of those soulless places – in my self-pitying mood, I felt like I could relate. Anyway, for a long time it seemed unlikely that it was ever going to recognise its potential again. It didn't look like there was anything in its future that would be kinder than a demolition crew and something new – some office block – springing up in its place. A soulless building to replace it and finish off the job that had been started by the soulless multiplexes that had usurped it.

And then, one day, it had been bought. And shortly after that, builders and workmen were going into the building and tearing out its heart. Seats were dragged out and taken away, deliveries were made, painters went in, came out... And then there came the day when the exterior was cleaned up and suddenly there was a new vitality to the building. It seemed cleaner, brighter, happier. The final boards were removed, the windows were cleaned and the cinema suddenly became a place that people wanted to visit once more. Only... now, it was no longer a cinema.

I heard all the rumours, long before it was reopened. No two people could completely agree on what was happening. It was a health club, said some. There were jacuzzis and saunas and gyms and all sorts of things like that. Others swore that it was being stocked from top to bottom with bondage equipment and was being turned into a brothel, a dungeon, a massage parlour. Many people were convinced that someone actually lived there. One room had apparently been a dance hall and had now been converted into the apartment of a reclusive, eccentric millionaire.

I think a lot of people were disappointed when it was revealed that the health club rumour was the most accurate one – complete with all the theorised jacuzzis, saunas and swimming pool.

As usual, I was in a particularly bleak and cynical mood on the night I went to the club, but despite that, I was pleased with what I found when I first walked in. Someone really had loved this place. The main foyer had a similar feeling to the open, welcoming place it had been before it was closed down. There was a staircase on the left hand side that – I remembered – used to lead up to a pub. It was a staircase that provided a weak spot in the cinema's security that I'd exploited on more than one occasion. When I was 18, I would go up to the pub on the pretext that I was going for a drink, then I'd walk up the rest of the stairs and into the cinema itself, through a doorway that had no ticket inspector on guard. I'd seen more than one film that way.


There were to be no films tonight. And there was to be no use of that staircase, if the velvet rope barrier was anything to go by. And there was to be no cheating, either. Instead, I got there about an hour or so before it was due to close for the evening, paid my admission and followed the signs for the swimming pool. I got changed quickly, left the changing room and dived into the water at the deep end, without even bothering to use the board.

I had chosen a time that suited my mood best. Late one Monday evening, when it was likely that there would be fewer people there. And thankfully, it seemed to have worked pretty well. There was just myself, a lifeguard and another swimmer present, but I didn't really pay them any attention at all, at first. I was too absorbed in seeking out oblivion through the mindless repetition of covering the length of that pool, over and over again. I was going to exhaust myself. I was going to propel myself through that water for as long as possible, and eventually I was going to go home, fall into bed and sleep. Perhaps get the first proper night of sleep I'd had in nearly two months.

And so, for the first couple of lengths, I ploughed my way through the water with a kind of single-minded intensity. Focused purely on that simple goal. But that kind of intensity can't last. Muscles start to flag, the body slows down and a more comparatively sedate stroke takes over. And it was on the beginnings of my fourth or fifth length of the pool that I started to become more aware of my surroundings and of the two other people who shared them with me. Well... initially... of one of those two people.

Specifically, I saw the other swimmer properly, for the first time. She was about midway between the deep and shallow ends of the pool, climbing out the water as I approached. I saw a sleek length of thigh, curved to perfection as she got out, and suddenly I was captivated. One foot on the top step and the other leg in the process of coming up to plant the other foot just ahead of it. And automatically, the obsessive compulsive part of my nature started kicking in, referring back to my studies of muscular anatomy and I found that one part of my mind – probably the only part that wasn't being eclipsed by a sudden wash of hormones – was placidly naming the muscles that were being used at that moment.

"Flexion of the hip," I thought. "Hamstrings. Semimembranosis, semitendonosis, biceps femoris. Mmm... Nice glutes."

The edge of her costume was sliding back, showing one cheek of those beautiful gluteals as she climbed up the steps. I noted the water pouring down the bare flesh of her back where the costume didn't cover her and the voice in my head said something about postural muscles and quadratus lumborum and erector spinae. It went on to add a couple of footnotes about the beautiful shape of her scapulae and how perfectly formed her spinal column was. Christ, I swear that while most men go on about tits and bums... well, I could never claim to not like those too, but the movement and shape of a beautiful woman's back – there's a kind of grace or... something... indefinable about those other areas that most other men don't even notice. The bones and muscles of the back. There's thighs, calves, quads... And there's abs. Oh God, yeah, there's the abs. The human body is beautiful, but... just once... let me lay my head on the firm stomach of an athlete or a dancer.

As she stepped fully out of the pool, she paused for a moment, raised her arms and ran the fingers of both hands through her hair. I had a moment to notice the subtle shifting of the musculature in her back and shoulders and hear my head placidly rattling off seemingly random words like trapezius and deltoid. And then, to my astonishment, I noted a stiffening in my own body. Without any warning, my cock was suddenly making its own appreciation known in its own very sincere and very blunt way.

It was a pleasant surprise, at least. I wasn't a youth any more and spontaneous erections - while they still happened – just weren't as commonplace as they had once been, so when they did happen, I was inclined to be welcoming to them if they weren't drawing any inappropriate attention. I simply kept swimming and when I touched the end of the pool I swung round and in the brief moment between concluding one length and beginning another, I had the luxury of treading water and catching a breath. That was all I needed in order to make a quick adjustment of my trunks and shift myself into a more comfortable position, and then I was moving again. No harm was done, no sensibilities were outraged and nobody but me even knew there had been a problem. And I still had plenty of time to continue swimming and allow things to relax and settle down again.

It was all fine, again. I've never been a particularly skilled swimmer, but I knew how to at least move forward once I was in the water and I've always had plenty of stamina. Breathing's a problem that I've never really been able to overcome, but hell... I had never harboured any dreams of going to the Olympics, anyway. I did stifle a short laugh at one point, as it occurred to me that I had a bit of extra "drag" going on now, but surely it was going to go away soon enough.

I reached the shallow end, swung round and started back again, just as the other swimmer was climbing out once more. Good timing, I thought. She was clearly practicing her dive, or something like that. So once more, I had plenty of opportunity to admire that tall, slender form leaving the pool and walking back to the diving board. But suddenly, I wasn't so sure that she was so unaware of my attention and my admiration. As I swam back up the pool, it seemed to me that she was walking more slowly than before. Timing her path to the diving board and putting on a display for me. She really was stunning, though. Tall and athletic, with long, dark hair that – as before – she had to slick back from her face as she walked.

And then the lifeguard blew her whistle and shattered the moment. Halfway up the pool now, I came to a halt and treaded water, while I glanced over at the clock. There was still half an hour to go, before the pool was due to close. So... why..? I looked back at the lifeguard, who simply looked blankly at me, then turned away and pointedly looked up at the clock, herself. The inference was clear. It was time to get out of the pool. Which posed something of a problem. There had been absolutely no lessening at all in my erection. If anything, it had managed to get even harder.

The thought of climbing out of the pool in that condition had absolutely no appeal at all. I swam slowly over to the side, trying to buy some time. Some time to subside. Some time for the other swimmer to enter her changing room. Some time for the lifeguard to busy herself with something else.

The swimmer paused at the entrance to her changing room to sit on a bench, pick up a towel and start to unhurriedly rub at her hair as if she had all the time in the world and the lifeguard waited at the entrances to the changing rooms and started tapping her foot as she looked at me. I was out of options now. But I can be brazen, sometimes. I decided to climb out the water and act like nothing was wrong. Just walk to the changing rooms and hope that neither woman was going to be looking too hard in my direction as I left.

Of course, my optimism far outstripped the reality of my situation and despite my resolve, I could feel the heat burning in my face as I passed them. The swimmer was still drying her hair and while she was being discreet about it, I strongly suspected that she was somehow aware of my condition and wanted to get a good, long look as I left. And there was no pretence of discretion from the lifeguard at all – she fixed her eyes directly on my crotch with a look of firm disapproval. I walked past her with my eyes locked on the door to my changing room and made my bid for safety, privacy and freedom. As I hurried through the door I saw the lifeguard disappearing through another door, while the other swimmer finally stood up and headed toward her own changing room.

And so I made it to the changing room without further incident. I grabbed my towel and shampoo, stripped out of my trunks and headed straight for the showers. And predictably, my cock was as hard as ever. It bounced ahead of me, pointing the way to the showers as I walked. And just for a moment, I couldn't resist taking it in my hand and squeezing it.

God, the thrill of having an erection. To be so hard, so strong, so firm. To have such an overwhelmingly thick and potent presence. To be so proud, visceral and animalistic. There's no way to describe just what it feels like or what it means. Yeah, I will always admit it – when it's so uncompromisingly erect and ready, I am deeply in love with my own cock.

It doesn't have to do anything, really. There's no need to masturbate, to fuck, to chase that orgasm down like I'm trying to somehow vindicate its presence. No need at all. It's just a great feeling for it just to be there. To feel its weight as it bounces, it's motion as it swings. There's no need to masturbate. And yet...

And yet, now that I was away from the burning gaze of the lifeguard and the slightly mocking glint in the eyes of the other swimmer, the humiliation and embarrassment I had experienced weren't so crippling and wasn't it possible that it had actually been exciting? And now that I had some privacy, how much more exciting would it be..?

I squeezed it again, then let go and turned the shower on. Immediately, the hot water started cascading down my back and I braced my hands against the wall and leaned forward, luxuriating in that jet pouring over me. I arched my neck and turned my face into the flow, then straightened up and stretched, trying to release the tension between my scapulae... those muscular stresses that will only ever be completely relieved by a decent massage.

And then I leaned back against the wall and ran both hands down my chest, over my abs and down to the root of my cock. One hand stayed there and while my fingertips reached round and cupped my balls, my other hand travelled up the shaft, very slowly. Fingertips crossed over my glans, exploring it, looking for some precum. Some of that slick moisture to spread out over the glans. The hot water had washed it away though, so I squeezed the shaft again and milked myself, trying to encourage it to flow. And... yeah... there was some of that moisture now and... and oh, God, I was pouring. When had I last had a wank? Had it really been so long ago that this was the reservoir starting to overflow with the first bit of encouragement in days? Was it really getting to be such a rarity?

All the more reason to enjoy this, then. And with that thought, I remembered the reason that it was happening at all. So... I'd had a stiffy and two women had been made completely aware of it. But had it really been so terrible? They had both set themselves up so they could both have a good view as I walked past. Hadn't they? So they could hardly have been offended by it, could they?

I found myself smiling and used my left hand to cup and gently squeeze my balls, once more. My right hand ran the length of my shaft and I shuddered as I threatened to cum almost right away. I didn't want that, though. This felt too good and I wanted to draw it out for as long as possible.

I stood under the hot water with my eyes closed, enjoying the sensations of my own hands on my body. I squeezed and caressed my cock and eased my foreskin back, very slowly. I kept myself on the edge of orgasm for a long time and behind my eyes, visions of the other swimmer danced. That sleek, black swimsuit and those long, tanned legs. I started to fantasise about her. I summoned her more completely into my head. I started to pump harder, as I imagined her slinking into the showers and walking towards me, dropping to her knees, brushing my fingers away from my cock, taking it in her own hands, bringing it to her mouth...

"What the hell's going on here?"

My own gasp of shock was accompanied by a squeal of surprise from somewhere else, but it was a moment or two before the significance of that caught up. Complete horror overwhelmed me, my eyes flew open and I stared wildly about, trying to make sense of a new set of circumstances. The lifeguard was striding into the shower room, dragging the other swimmer with her, by her hair and even as I struggled to rationalise this, I managed to consciously register the squeal I'd heard. But that could wait. Suddenly, it was of vital importance that I try to cover my cock with both hands and conceal what I had been doing. Yeah, like that would make anything any better. 

"I'm waiting," the lifeguard said and I gaped at her. The swimmer tried to pull her hair away, then fell over when she was unexpectedly freed. She turned to face the lifeguard and I was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was close enough to me that we were almost touching.

"OK, then since neither of you can tell me, maybe I better tell you," the lifeguard finally said. "You!" A finger stabbed in my direction, "were masturbating in a public place, while you!" Same finger stabbed in the swimmer's direction, "were watching. I'm at a loss here. I don't have the slightest clue which of you is the more pathetic. Wanker or spy."




Compromised



Eventually, belatedly, I managed to get my voice. And with that came bravado. "What about you? Weren't you spying too?" I managed to ask.

She looked directly at me and sneered. "You think you can cast your perversions on me? I saw what was going on out there in the pool and I know what I came in here to do."

She threw something at my feet and I looked down in surprise. It was a pair of handcuffs.

"What... what are those for?" I asked.

The lifeguard smiled. "I have a proposition for you. You have a choice. You can take a chance. If you can pick those up and put them on, then you'll experience something that you might spend the rest of your life remembering and fantasising about..."

"Or?" I asked.

And suddenly, she was moving. Without warning, she crossed the room towards me, with hands outstretched. One of them grabbed my cock and the other grabbed my hair and then I was in motion too. Her own momentum was carrying me – backwards and off-balance – into the changing room and towards the exit. Unable to do anything but stumble rapidly backward, I could do nothing to stop her and felt a panic overwhelm me as I realised what was going to happen.

"Stop! Stop! I'll put them on!" I said, hurriedly.

"You!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Pick those up and bring them here now."

The swimmer grabbed the cuffs and scurried over, then held them out to the lifeguard hesitantly.

"Put them on him!" the lifeguard snapped.

She grabbed one of my wrists and closed the cuff round it. I decided to cooperate and put my other wrist behind my back, so she could lock the other cuff in place.

The lifeguard let go of my hair, but kept hold of my cock, then pushed me backwards towards a bench and made me sit down.

"You stay there and don't move," she warned. "Have fun. Enjoy the show."

She straightened up and turned towards the swimmer. "You," she said. "Come here."

The swimmer walked towards her nervously. "Wh... what do you want?" she asked.

It was the first time she had spoken, I suddenly realised. Her voice was nervous and wary, but perhaps didn't hold as much fear or tension as it could have. I looked at her breasts and saw that her nipples were proud and prominent through the fabric of her swimming costume. The changing room was warm, so I felt sure that this had to be due to something other than a lack of temperature. And I still had an erection. Was that ever going to go away? I had to acknowledge that despite the circumstances and the humiliation that we were both experiencing, there must be something else going on as well. It seemed that we were both very definitely turned on by the lifeguard's actions.

"What's your name?" the lifeguard asked.

"Anne."

"Come here, Anne," the lifeguard told her. "And do as you're told, without asking stupid questions."

Anne moved forward, hesitantly. The lifeguard took her by the shoulders, turned her to face me, grabbed the straps of her swimsuit and pulled them over her shoulders and down her body. She gasped and covered up her breasts as soon as her arms were free, but she wasn't quick enough to stop me from seeing a flawless tan covering her entire upper body. She was blushing furiously.

The lifeguard swept her costume down her legs and then stood up and prodded her in the back. She got the message and she stepped forward, obediently. Meekly. Her eyes met mine and I looked away shamefully for a moment, but the lifeguard shouted at me to look at her. I looked back. The lifeguard grabbed her wrists and pulled them down to her sides displaying her to me. I drank in the sight of her totally naked body. The tan definitely covered her whole body. And there was nothing... not a thing... about her to diminish my first impressions of her. She was simply stunning. Her flat stomach, her slightly smallish, pert breasts, the small, neatly trimmed shape of her wiry pubic hair... My cock twitched visibly and her frightened eyes flickered towards it.

The lifeguard reached round and roughly groped her right breast. I watched, expecting some sort of protest, but it didn't come – instead, the swimmer closed her eyes and sighed. She was enjoying it! I continued to watch, as the lifeguard's fingertip brushed across one of her nipples, while the other hand slid down her stomach toward her pussy, then paused on her abdomen. 

At that point I could swear that I could practically hear Anne purring. But, it seemed, the lifeguard had other things on her mind – teasing being uppermost. I heard the swimmer moan aloud, as the lifeguard's hand moved again, only for her fingertips to brush across the swimmer's pussy, without seeking a way inside.

"Both of you... on your knees, right here, side by side," she barked.

We hurried to comply. I felt Anne's warm body against mine as we dropped to the hard floor and my cock pulsed in response to the pressure. I moved clumsily, because of the cuffs, but managed with little difficulty.

The lifeguard paced back and forth a couple of times, and let us stew as we watched her.

"What am I going to do with you both?" she said.

I felt Anne subtly leaning into me and I wondered whether she was seeking comfort or sexual contact. Going by the renewed pulsing from my still rock solid cock, I was in no doubt about my own motivations for responding to her contact by echoing it and leaning into her. I could smell her, now – the chlorine of the swimming pool being gradually edged aside by her own, natural, musky smell. I had to forcibly prevent myself from sighing.

Suddenly, the lifeguard seemed to come to a decision and ordered us to our feet, again. I stumbled slightly, and Anne caught my arm and steadied me. I still swayed, and she swung round to grab my other arm, and for the briefest of moments, I was staring straight into her eyes and reading all the emotions in there that were surely reflected in mine. Tension, fear - yeah, both of those were definitely there – but all too clearly, I could see a powerful, simmering lust as well.

"Well?" barked the lifeguard and we were jerked back to the fuller awareness of our environment. She flushed, as we both became aware that the tip of my cock was pressing into her stomach and her breasts were rising and falling less than an inch from my chest. One half pace forward would have closed that gap, pushing my cock to point upwards and be snug against her belly, while her breasts... All I wanted was for those breasts to be pressed against my chest.

We didn't close the gap, though. We looked round at the lifeguard. She had unlocked a side door and was standing beside it, waiting. Through it, we could see the city street. We stared dumbly for a moment, and she gestured impatiently. Her meaning was clear – we were to step outside.

We didn't move. "There are people out there," I said.

"Name?" she barked.

"A – Alan," I answerd.

She stepped toward me, grabbed my balls and squeezed them. Not hard – just enough to get my undivided attention and to let me know that serious pain was an option and one that she was very prepared to use. However, any impact to the groinal area provokes an immediate response in any man – there'll be gasping, groaning and hands cupping the sensitive parts long before it's known whether there was a direct hit. That's why you see so many men getting up again with a sheepish expression, as they realise that – luckily – the testicles had escaped untouched and unscathed. Well, I couldn't do any cupping, but the other responses all manifested themselves. My cock deflated for the first time in an hour, my knees buckled and I folded round her fist. As I dropped to my knees, she anticipated my movement and dropped with me, never letting go.

"Alan, I am well aware that there are people out there, but you and Anne are going to step outside anyway. You will be seen, but if you are quick and don't argue any more, nobody is going to have a chance to do anything other than point and enjoy the show. We are going to my rooms and then we are going to continue this discussion in private. Understood?"

"Yes," I croaked.

She let me go and stood back. I got to my feet slowly and satisfied myself that no damage had been done. Then I walked towards the door. By this point, my sense of direction had kicked in enough to suggest – tentatively – that this was most likely one of the back doors to the club. I couldn't figure out why it was in the male changing room, but perhaps this was due to the vagaries of the building's layout. The fact that it was being used for a purpose that was different from the one it was originally designed for must have arbitrarily resulted in this inconsiderate location.

I hesitated briefly, as I got to it. But as usual, my own bravado kept me going. I had enough time to psyche myself up by now and I decided that if I just projected an image of self-confidence, then any witnesses would be too stunned to be able to figure out how to react before we'd all moved on. I took a deep breath, then stepped outside. Almost immediately, I heard some jeering and – responding to that aggressive noise, my confidence crumbled. I frantically glanced round in the direction the noise was coming from. A crowd of youths were walking away, in the vague direction of Clerk Street. Incredibly, they hadn't even seen me – they were just in high spirits, on their way somewhere else.

Unsure of where to go, now that I was in the fresh air, I waited for the others to join me. Unsurprisingly, it was Anne who stepped out next. She hurried right up to me, then looked in the same direction that I was looking. She was pale already, but she went white when she saw the last of the youths disappearing round the corner. Finally, the lifeguard stepped out. She took her time in shutting the side door with an audible click, testing it to make sure it had locked securely, then calmly fishing in her pocket for something. It seemed to take ages for her to find what she was looking for, but finally she produced a set of keys and started walking purposefully towards Clerk Street.

I started to follow her without question, but Anne hesitated and rather than abandon her, I walked back to rejoin her. The lifeguard moved a further half dozen paces or so, before she realised that we weren't following her. She stopped and looked back. "If you two don't start doing as you're told, it's going to go all the worse for you when we get to my place," she said. She waited. Anne and I looked quickly at each other, but didn't move. The lifeguard scrutinised us for a few moments, while she waited for a response. There was something speculative in her expression and I wondered if she was debating how best to force the issue. But then she smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "Alternatively, I could just walk away and leave you here," she said.

"What?" I blustered. "You wouldn't do that. What's going to happen to your job once we've explained ourselves?"

"Forget my job, Alan," the lifeguard said. She started walking back towards me again. "That's not even in the equation." She stopped right in front of me, then leaned forward. Suddenly her voice was lower, conspiratorial. "I don't think you really understand your situation. If I walk away now and leave you here, then you're going to be left out in the cold and helpless until either someone finds you or you manage to do something about your situation. You can try to implicate me if you like, but I guarantee you that whatever happens, however it plays out at the end of it all, I'll still be here and you'll have gone through a lot of grief, a lot of ridicule and a lot more humiliation than you've already experienced so far. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Are you saying we're not going to be humiliated anyway?" I asked.

Again, with that wicked smile. "You come with me, Alan," she said. "And you will be humiliated and embarrassed and you will experience an ordeal that might push you to the very edge... but I can guarantee that you're going to have some fun, too. So what's it going to be?"

Neither Anne nor I responded. The lifeguard smiled again, once more... then turned and started walking away. And that was when her name changed. From that point on, I could not think of her as anything other than "the Bitch".

I started to follow her. I hurried to catch up, then when I was right at her back, I turned to look at Anne. I wasn't surprised at all to learn that she was still standing where the Bitch and I had both left her and I stopped walking. Now, I was torn between two people – one who was abandoning us and one who was torn with indecision.

I couldn't abandon Anne. It just wasn't in my nature. So while our salvation continued to walk away, I made a decision and started walking back to Anne.

I put as much urgency into my voice as I could manage. "We need to go with her," I said.

Anne nodded and – reluctantly – started walking towards me. I waited until she had caught up to me and then turned and we both started walking after the Bitch. Just as she turned a corner and started heading back to Clerk Street.

Now, the street we were currently on was hardly a back alley – but it was quiet and for the moment at least, it was deserted. The street that we were about to turn onto was a narrow, residential, tree-lined street. It was poorly lit though, so it seemed likely that we'd get right along it without being seen by anyone. If nobody was going home, going out or looking out their window. And if nobody was using it as a shortcut.

Our luck was not with us.

We hurried round the corner and nearly walked into a trio of girls who had clearly been out drinking. Do I need to point out that they were astonished? Or that as soon as they recovered from that initial reaction, that they were delighted? Perhaps not. There were hoots, squeals and ribald comments. Predictable stuff, for the most part. 

Anne came up short, her hands crossed protectively over her chest, but I refused to stop moving and forced her hand. She moved faster, caught up to me again and we pushed our way through the girls, together.

One of them grabbed my cock as we passed. "Doesn't look like the cold bothers you too much, darlin'," she cackled and the others squealed and hooted some more. 

I didn't flinch. I made sure that Anne was still by my side and kept moving, pulling my cock free from the girl's fingers as I did.

Just ahead of us, the Bitch had stopped. She was looking back at us; presumably making sure that we were getting through safely. Satisfied, she turned away again and disappeared round the next corner. It came as no surprise at all to see that she was headed back to the main entrance to the cinema.

"Drop your hands," I said to Anne.

"Wh... what?" 

"Stop hiding yourself. Act like there's nothing wrong."

I was surprised when she did as I suggested. We followed the Bitch round the corner. And then we were back on Clerk Street. By this time, it seemed that Anne was responding to my suggestion and to my outward show of confidence. She kept her hands by her side, raised her head defiantly and even thrust her chest out slightly. I'm not sure how effective my own air of calm was, but suddenly she seemed poised and relaxed. I was impressed.

At this time on a weekday evening, Clerk Street was quiet, but cars were still moving up and down the street and people were still out and about. Across the road, a group of people were leaving a pub and here and there were isolated individuals, or friends walking together, or lovers holding hands. I wasn't surprised to see the occasional look of astonishment on a lot of faces, but I was surprised to see – here and there – a complete lack of reaction to the sudden appearance of nudity in their midst. A young couple didn't even break stride. They continued to walk towards us and carried on walking as if there was nothing strange going on at all. As if they saw this kind of thing every day.

All in all, it was very surreal.

The Bitch was at the main entrance to the cinema by the time we caught up to her. She tapped on the glass of one of the doors and waited while someone came to unlock it and let us in. There didn't seem to be any hurry at all. No sense of urgency. The cashier just strolled out from behind the counter and walked sedately towards us, fished out a key from among the many she had on her ring and unlocked the door. By this time, half a dozen people had walked past us and one woman even paused, tapped me on the shoulder and asked directions to a sushi bar.

There was definitely a perverse part of me that – despite the fear – was enjoying myself by now. Ignoring my nudity and the cuffs I was wearing, I turned round and spoke to the woman directly.

"I only know of one, and it's a fair distance away, but if you don't mind a walk, just keep going that way." I said, indicating to the right with a jerk of my head. "Go right down there until you get to Hamilton Bridge. Cross the bridge, turn left at the big statue and turn right. It's right at the beginning of Rose Street."

"Thanks," she said. "Is it any good?"

"I don't know. I've never been inside. Looks nice, though. I might go sometime, when I think I've got more money than I really need."

She looked like she wanted to say something more. Maybe ask a question that she couldn't quite figure out how to phrase. The moment dragged out, while I wished the cashier would hurry up and open the door. Anne, the Bitch and I were all standing on marble steps now and while my feet had already been cold from the pavement, it was now starting to feel like frostbite was setting in. I smiled blandly back at the lady until she thanked me and gave up. Then, just as she turned away, a group of youths walked past from the other direction. 

One of them had seen enough of my profile to figure out why my hands were behind my back. "Why are you wearing cuffs, you freak?" he shouted.

It was Anne who answered, this time. Before I could formulate a response, she said "Of course he's wearing cuffs. Would you rather he was naked?"

The youth who had spoken swung round, clearly ready to respond, but his friends had evidently been impressed with Anne's ready answer. Shouting out with laughter, they grabbed his shoulders and kept moving. "That tellt you, ye fanny!" one of them said loudly.

Finally, though, the cashier opened the door and stepped back. The Bitch swept through without a word and strode towards the staircase, while Anne and I followed. She unhooked one side of the velvet rope and dropped it to the ground, then walked up the stairs. Again, Anne and I followed. The staircase curved round to the right, and before we went round the corner, I glanced back down and saw the cashier scurrying forward to grab and replace the rope.

Halfway up the stairs, we came to the part that – in the original cinema – had been the pub.

The doors to the pub were different. It took me a moment to figure out what had changed, but I got it just as the Bitch swung them open and strode inside. Curtains had been added to the inner side, so that it was no longer possible to just see right through and into the pub. Privacy had been added.

It was no surprise at all to learn one of the reasons for this. The other reason was – quite simply – jaw dropping. But I'll get to that in a minute.

The more mundane of the two reasons for the added privacy was simple. The huge room beyond the doors had been transformed from a pub into a large, open-plan residence. Another of the rumours had been proven correct and we were now – presumably – inside the Bitch's own home. Along the wall to the right, the original bar was still in place, but its function was completely different now. It appeared to have been transformed into a kitchen. To the left, above the main door that we had stood at just a few minutes previously, there was a similar set of glass doors that led out onto a balcony that overlooked Clerk Street. Just before those doors was a huge, four-poster bed, complete with curtains. The curtains were all closed.




Compromised



The whole room was grand and opulent. Lush carpets covered the floor and I curled my toes through the thick pile, feeling slightly guilty about the grit and dust that I was surely leaving behind, after having dragged it in from the streets. Huge cushions and bean bags were scattered about, seemingly at random, though I doubted that they were positioned with anything less than complete precision on the part of the Bitch. In the centre of the room, three couches were set up to form three sides of a square, while the fourth side was taken up by a huge, leather armchair that looked like it could comfortably seat two people. The armchair faced the doors we had all just entered by and I was pretty sure I could guess who it was that usually occupied it.

There didn't appear to be any electrical lighting in the room at all. Candles and incense sticks, however, seemed to cover every surface and provide all the light. Low, moody, flickering light that cast shadows everywhere. And this could be the only reason that it was possible for me to miss the other feature of the room. The one that I hinted at before, I mean.

On the wall ahead of us – three feet above the floor and held in place by some means that I couldn't figure out – were three naked girls. Their arms were splayed so that they could just about touch each other with their fingertips and it looked like each one of them had been crucified. I was astounded – literally speechless – while I tried to fit this scene in with my impression of the way the world should be. This sort of thing – quite simply – just did not happen. And yet, it was happening here and now. I could see it.

Inexorably, I was drawn to those girls. I found that I had to get closer and see what was going on. It was like I couldn't quite believe that they were really there – not until I could stand right in front of them and check.

The Bitch walked beside me, as I navigated round the couches and chairs and walked up to the girls. They were indeed quite real and when I got up close, I could see that they were writhing shamelessly. One of them was staring at me like they were starving dogs and I was a piece of meat that she couldn't quite get to. The hungry look was a bit disquieting.

The other two were looking fearfully at the Bitch. One of them was crying openly and I found that I wanted to move closer to her and try to comfort her, somehow. I didn't know what to say, though. I wondered what was upsetting her.

The Bitch seemed to know, though. She stooped and picked something up off the floor, just beneath the crying girl, and gave it a look of disapproval. When she looked sharply back upwards, the girl flinched visibly and started apologising, but the Bitch just waved a dismissive hand and she shut up.

The Bitch walked up to the next girl and again, picked something up off the floor. That girl was clearly frightened too, but seemed to be handling it better.

"How long has it been?" the Bitch asked.

"Three weeks," said the girl.

"Hardly any time at all, is it?" The Bitch replied. Then she smirked and walked on, dismissing her.

The third girl was still staring at me with that look of hunger, but – again – the bitch stopped and picked something up from the floor. This time I could see what it was and recognise it as a dildo.

The Bitch sighed. "How was this possible?" she said. "Can I really believe that not one of you was able to perform this simplest of tasks? Clearly the punishments haven't been strict enough."

The door that we – the Bitch, Anne and I – had just entered through, suddenly swung open and I whirled round. Five more girls were striding through and walking up to us. I noticed that Anne had started to cross the room, but had stopped by the leather armchair. The newcomers, however, just walked past her without responding to her presence.

The newcomers were all dressed in some sort of fetish gear. It was hard to tell whether the garments displayed more flesh than they concealed, but the emphasis was – quite clearly – based on the twin concepts of brevity and leather. Three of them walked up to the girls on the walls and started unfastening the bands that were holding the naked girls in place, then helping them down. One of the other two waited until the first was down, then moved forward – she was holding something in her hands that she began buckling round the waists of the naked girls. I could clearly hear the one that had been crying begging her to stop. I didn't know what she was protesting, but it had – apparently – been going on for nearly two months, now. She didn't move or do anything to fight though, and the contraption – whatever it was – went on, anyway.

The final newcomer walked up to the Bitch, collected the three dildos from her and stood back at a respectful distance.

When the naked girls were released and clad in their new garments, they were led from the room. As they filed past, I tried to see what they were wearing, but couldn't make out too many details. I just got a vague impression of something that looked a bit like a leather thong, but... well... in my experience, most thongs don't come complete with padlocks and don't have metal fronts to them. Each of the naked girls had a newcomer accompanying and supporting her, while the one that was carrying the dildos followed them out.

Only one of the newcomers remained, now. She was the one that had brought the "thongs" in with her and was talking to the Bitch. They had moved away a little and – suddenly finding that I was in a space all to myself – I retreated to stand beside Anne. When I got to her, I looked back and found that the Bitch and the newcomer were looking over at me and still talking. Not at Anne and I, but specifically at me.

By this time, I was getting more than a little confused. Everything that I had seen so far, seemed to be hinting very strongly at a strongly lesbian theme going on. But... if that was the case... then what was I doing here? It didn't make sense, really. Perhaps that was the gist of this particular conversation, then. Perhaps they were going to let me go. Or perhaps, if they really were lesbians, then maybe their plans for me were going to be even worse and even more extreme than I had so far found myself preparing to deal with.

Yeah. OK. So I was buying into that old cliché of lesbian equating to man-hater. But under the circumstances, could you blame me? I was hardly in familiar territory here.

The Bitch suddenly barked at Anne and I to approach. We did so. When we stood before her, she looked back down at my cock and frowned. Clearly, she was unimpressed by what she saw.

"Get that hard," she said simply.

I looked down at my cock. Despite everything that I had just witnessed, it wasn't hard. Oh, it wasn't something to be ashamed of, or embarrassed by, but it definitely wasn't standing. When I thought back about when it had last been erect... I don't think it had done much since we'd all been in the showers.

"A little while ago, you were offended by my having an erection," I swear I heard myself speak before I had even decided I was going to argue.

"A little while ago, you were masturbating in my showers. And a little while ago, things were very, very different. The situation has changed and I will not tolerate that thing being in that disgraceful condition. When you're with me, you will show respect to me by having an erection whenever you are capable of doing so. And I believe that you are more than capable of doing so right now – so you will get that hard."

So... given the circumstances and despite my temporary moment of bravado, I wasn't in the mood for fighting too much. All I really wanted to do was to give the Bitch what she wanted. But my hands were still cuffed behind my back, so the most direct technique – a bit of self-manipulation – wasn't really an option.

"Umm..."

"I'm waiting."

I needed inspiration and I knew where to find it. Anne was still standing beside me, so I looked down at her naked body and deliberately started to openly admire her. After all, it had been her body that had initially made me hard, so it seemed reasonable to assume that it would do the trick a second time.

Anne looked up at me, questioningly. Then her eyes widened, as she realised I was blatantly ogling her and she stepped back, crossing her arms defensively across her breasts. That did it. Her sudden discomfort made me feel shameful and uncomfortable as well, and the twitches that I'd felt that had been heralding the return of my erection ceased. My cock softened again.

"Anita," the Bitch said and I looked at the newcomer.

She jumped and looked back at the Bitch and I suddenly realised that there had been something different about the way she'd been looking at me. Everybody else so far, had looked with amusement or shock or lust... but those hadn't been foremost in Anita's expression. I wondered what had been different.

The Bitch nodded at my cock and then at Anne. The gesture meant nothing at all to me, but Anita clearly interpreted it. She stepped over behind Anne, then grabbed her upper arms and steered her forward until she was standing in front of me. Then Anita placed her hands on Anne's shoulders and pressed down. Anne resisted at first, but a sharp look from the Bitch made all resistance crumble and she sank to her knees in front of me.

"You can't make her do this if she doesn't want to," I said angrily. I tried to step back, but the Bitch moved behind me and placed her hands on my hips. Automatically, I tried to struggle. And that was when I made yet another discovery. The Bitch was strong. Really strong. With her hands on my hips and my hands behind my back, it didn't take me long at all to realise that I was stuck. She was holding me firmly in place – not tight enough to hurt, but I could not break free of her grip.

"Don't be stupid," the Bitch said. "Of course she wants to. She's pretending to fight it."

I looked down at Anne and saw that she was looking back up at me. And that was when I saw the truth in the Bitch's words. There was defiance in Anne's eyes and her face, but there was lust, too. A very strong and very pure lust. And when both of her hands reached out to take hold of my cock, I knew that this was indeed what she really wanted.

It was that lust that I found myself responding to when my cock started to harden again, at last. That and the pumping of Anne's hands, obviously. And then, as it started to thicken and rise, I took a last look round at the only other person I could still see and found that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor – a picture of innocence, apart from the fact that she was staring in rapt fascination, as Anne's head moved forward and her mouth engulfed me. And in that moment, just before I felt my knees weaken, my eyes close and my head roll forward like all the muscles in my body had relaxed at once; in that moment, I recognised the expression on Anita's face.

It was curiosity.

It was like she'd never seen a naked man before.

It was like she was completely and utterly fascinated.

Anne's hands continued to cup and squeeze my balls and hold my cock at the root, while he head started to bob, sliding her lips up and down my shaft. I was completely helpless now, and if it hadn't been for the Bitch holding me upright, I swear I wouldn't have been able to keep standing. Instead, I started leaning backwards until the Bitch must have been supporting my entire body weight. And Anne continued to suck, bob and drive me wild. Every so often, she would release me from her mouth and my cock would slide free with an audible pop. And whenever she would, my head would roll forwards again and my eyes would open long enough to see her staring back up at me with smoky eyes. And then, when she was satisfied that she had held that eye contact for long enough, she would move forward once more and slide me right back into her mouth and start sucking and bobbing all over again.

And now the Bitch was whispering in my ear. And it took me a long time to make sense of what she was saying, but when I did, I found that I really didn't like what I was hearing.

"...up against that wall all night with a dildo penetrating this nice, tight, virgin bottom and a pair of clamps crushing those testicles and those nipples. And every hour, on the hour, someone will come in and make sure you're nice and hard. If you're not, she'll make you hard, before spreading peppermint toothpaste all over your glans. Have you ever felt anything like that? It can be quite pleasant for a few seconds, but I can assure you that if it's left on and you can do nothing to remove it, then you're not going to enjoy it for long. And that's only the beginning of the tortures I can devise for you if you fail me now. There's deep heat and there's humblers and there's ice. I have bathrooms with nice, big tubs where I can immerse you so only your head is above the icy water. I have racks and stocks and frames. Believe me, you can't even imagine what will happen to you if you ejaculate without my permission. So you will not cum. Do you hear me? You will not cum."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had never felt anything as good as Anne's mouth felt at that moment and al I wanted to do was give in and fill that mouth up with my fluids. I had visions of spurting so hard and for so long that she wasn't able to swallow it all. I could see her cheeks bulge and a trickle escaping the corner of her mouth. I could see her give up and pull back and get hit right in the face with my next spurt. God help me, I could even see Anita grab my cock from her and fasten her own mouth greedily over it, before sucking me dry, then lick Anne's face clean. I could see it all. You have to believe me – I could actually see it.

And the Bitch was still whispering those insidious threats and promises to me. And for a while, it was all hanging in the balance. The torture of holding back that orgasm and refusing to just let it roll through me was so harsh that it actually seemed like perhaps it couldn't really compare to the torture that was being described to me so vividly and in such graphic detail. Greater and greater detail.

But I continued to hold back. I continued to resist. And eventually, I heard the Bitch tell Anne to stop what she was doing.

It was, simultaneously, an incredible relief and a huge disappointment to hear that. And it was clear that Anne was disappointed, too. I looked down at her and saw her eyes roll up to look at the Bitch in disbelief, but she kept sucking and bobbing.

"Stop sucking Anne," the Bitch said.

Slowly, reluctantly, Anne's mouth slid off my cock and let it back out again. Her tongue held contact for a long, long time and then it too slipped back off the end. She kept pumping.

"Stop that too," the Bitch said.

The pumping slowed. Stopped. Anne continued to look back up at the Bitch. Then she seemed to see something that got through to her and her shoulders slumped.

Finally, she leaned forward one last time, kissed the tip of my cock and let it go.

The Bitch let go of my hips and stepped aside. I had no time to recover from her sudden absence and I fell backwards and landed in the thick pile of the carpet. I raised my head in time to see Anne crawling towards me quickly, on her hands and knees, her breasts swaying as she moved. And then she was pulling me into her arms and wrapping her body round mine. For a moment, I thought she was actually going to fuck me right there on the floor, but she simply draped one thigh across my legs and pulled me into her arms.

The Bitch was talking to Anita in a low voice, by the time I managed to look round again and locate them both. Then Anita was walking back to the door and out of the room and the Bitch was returning to Anne and I.

"I've decided I'm going to send you both home," she said.

The disappointment hit me like a punch in the stomach.

"Home?" I said.

"Yes. Home. Where you live."

She said no more than that and I tried to work out why I was so shocked and disappointed at what I'd just been told. I'd been dragged here against my will, hadn't I? Been walked naked through city streets, been humiliated, toyed with, treated like a piece of meat. I hadn't wanted any of this, had I?

One look at Anne's face confirmed that she felt the same crippling shock that I was now experiencing. I wondered where she lived. I wondered if we were both going in the same general direction. I don't need to clarify what it was that I was really wondering.

Anita came back into the room, carrying something in a box. She walked up to the Mistress.

"Both of them?" she said. The Bitch nodded.

Anita walked over to Anne and I.

"I need you both to stand up and come over here," she said. We did this with some difficulty and some reluctance. Anita smiled and led the way to the couches and into the middle of the square that they formed, then turned to Anne and started fitting something round her waist. I recognised it right away – it was one of the same things that had been put on the other girls.

"What is that?" I asked.

She looked round at me, clearly surprised. "It's a chastity belt of course," she said. She was obviously confused that I'd needed to ask at all.

"Really? But that's barbaric! Those things haven't been used since the middle ages."

"How naïve." That was the Bitch. She was sitting in her chair and watching us. Holding court. Just like I had known she would do at some point, as soon as I had ever seen the layout of the room. "There's a lot you have to learn."

I watched as Anita finished locking the belt into place, then ran her fingers round the waistband to check it. Some adjustments were made until finally she seemed to be surprised. Then she produced a padlock and attached it to the waistband. Throughout it all, Anne looked like she was on the verge of panic, but she endured the fitting without protest.

Anita then turned to me.

"He won't fit when he's hard like that," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I had a suspicion I knew and I didn't like it.

The Bitch sighed. "Alan, would you come over here, please?"

I turned and walked over to her. She leaned forward in her chair, grasped my balls in her hand and squeezed hard. I gasped and buckled, but she raised her other hand and caught me by my throat as I went down. She held me comfortably and easily, just under the chin and continued to squeeze.

Finally, she let me go and I collapsed, clutching at myself.

"He'll fit now," the Bitch said.

I was aware of Anita and Anne tentatively moving towards me. When I finally recovered enough, they helped me to my feet and Anita produced one more device. It was clearly different from the one that Anne wore, but its principle was the same. Anita fumbled with it for a moment, turning it over and over in her hands and looking confused. It seemed to be different enough that she wasn't sure how to proceed.

"You better help me," she finally said to Anne.

Anne took it from her. "I'm sorry," she said to me.

I didn't reply. I stood still while – between them – Anne and Anita figured out the logistics of the device and put it onto me. The final click of the padlock had a very terminal sound to it, but in the end I merely felt a sense of resignation.

The Bitch smiled. She had a glass in her hand, now. Somehow, she'd managed to get a drink from somewhere.

Someone walked into the room. I couldn't tell if it was one of the girls from before, or somebody brand new. She was carrying a box that she set down in front of Anne and I. Our clothes were inside it. We didn't move towards them.

"What happens now?" I asked when it became apparent that nobody else was going to speak.

"You get dressed," the Bitch said. "And then you go home, as I said. And tomorrow evening, you come back here and we talk terms."




Compromised



We had departed Papua, New Guinea outbound to find an island to spend the next week in solicitude.

The Zaka was loaded stem to stern with a fresh load of supplies as her bow cut the sea on an east south east course leaving civilization astern.

Zaka was a forty foot Sabre with an auxiliary diesel and could easily be sailed by my husband and me. John had retired early from his successful dental practice and we had purchased Zaka to experience our dream of sailing around the world.

We had purchased Zaka in San Diego and set sail out into the Pacific in our pride and joy.

Both John and I were skilled sailors having owned a thirty-two foot Shark in which we had explored the inland waters of the Great Lakes. This was to be our first salt water voyage.

During our first few days out of San Diego we familiarized ourselves with Zaka's little quirks and characteristics and soon we had bonded with our new home. 

Our new life was wonderful, once out of sight of shore John and I shed our clothes and cavorted naked on Zaka's deck. Well off the shipping lanes we were in a world of our own and away from prying eyes. We were able to eat, tan and make love on Zaka's vast foredeck without fear of being observed.

New Guinea was our first scheduled port of call on out itinerary. After a week at sea we needed to refill our fresh water tank and restock the refrigerator.

After a luxurious bubble bath and a good night's sleep at Papau's Mandang Hotel we set sail early the following morning on the next leg of our voyage. 

The waters were more populated as we left Papua and were compelled to wear swimsuits until eventually we were able to get nude again.

Tuvaki appeared on the horizon just as the chart had predicted. Tuvaki is a small island, just under a mile in length and deserted since the Americans had used it as petrol supply depot during the war.

We had hoped to have Tuvaki to ourselves to enjoy for a few days but as we got closer we could see the masthead of another boat bobbing in a lagoon on the shoreline. It was time to don our suits again.

As the island grew larger we could make out the hulls of a pale blue catamaran laying at anchor and a curl of smoke coming from a campfire on the beach. The occupants of the other boat had gone ashore to cook their dinner.

Zaka glided into the lagoon alongside the cat were we dropped sail and the anchor. Squaring away the rigging John launched the Zodiac over Zaka's stern and we boarded to go ashore and meet our new neighbors. 

The roar of the Mercury outboard coming to like with a puff of blue smoke sent a flock of birds into the sky as John pointed the inflatable towards the beach.

They came out of the wooded shoreline to investigate the noise. The Tournay's were a young couple, he about thirty and his blonde wife a few years younger.

Dave came over to greet us grabbing the Zodiac's painter and dragging us up onto the sand.

There was the customary shaking of hands and introductions as we became acquainted with our fellow islanders. 

Dave told us he and his wife Judy were from Canada and had won enough money in a lottery to realize their dream similar to ours of buying a boat and sailing the seas.

Dave said they had been cruising port to port for eight months stopping here and there at their pleasure.

Dave was a good looking man of about five foot eleven with a well tanned athletic body and sporting a dark moustache and beard matching his wavy hair. He wore only a pair of cut-off kaki shorts and a pair of Dockers boating shoes.

His wife Judy was a frumpy redhead that needed to loose twenty pounds to fit into the two piece swimsuit that barely covered her.

The Tournay's informed us they had arrived the day before and spent the previous night aboard their boat before coming ashore to explore the island. 

Dave told us they had found an old rusted metal shed in the bush with a bunch of old American junk scattered around it. 

He said the far side of the island was a super white sand beach with the prevailing wind pounding it with terrific surf. He had wanted to try surfing and was looking for something he could make into a surf board.

John was an avid surfer and the two of them begin discussing what they could use to ride the breakers.

Judy told me that she had worked as a cleaner at their local hospital before they hit it big on the lottery. She had married Dave ten years earlier when she was twenty-two. Dave had been a truck driver who had come into the coffee shop where she worked at the time and swept her off her feet.

Judy was not use to male attention and had always been a wallflower at school dances. Dave's sudden attention overwhelmed her and before she knew it she found herself getting married to him.

Judy confided that Dave was a sex maniac wanting her only for sex. She said she had to have sex with her husband three times a day or he was not happy.

I thought of how many women would be envious of her problem. I was lucky if John wanted to make love to me once a week.

She also told me that her husband wanted to get her into "swinging", exchanging sexual partners with other couples. She had tried it a couple of times but didn't like it.

Judy and I continued chatting while we got our dinner ready. The guys were absorbed in their surfing plans.

I was relieved when we were back aboard Zaka after eating on the beach with the Tournay's.

John and I made long leisurely love before falling off to sleep. I always slept well aboard Zaka with the water softly lapping against her hull. I dropped off with Dave Tounnay on my mind for some unexplainable reason.

Early the following morning John discovered a crack forming in Zaka's fiberglass hull by the bilge water pump discharge port. It was not leaking yet but with the hulls constant twisting and bending while under sail it could become worse. Jon knew it should be repaired as soon as possible.

John and Dave discussed sailing Zaka back to Papua to have the repairs made. Dave said the trip could make the problem worse and suggested John take his boat and sail to Papua and pickup a repair kit. Dave said his cat could make the round trip in three days.

John agreed to Dave's plan and rather than leaving us women alone it was decided Judy would accompany John as she knew the boat and Dave would stay with me on the Zaka. 

Dave and I watched from Zaka's deck as the catamaran vanished over the horizon.

I had dressed fairly conservatively during our stay on Tuvaki not wanting to arouse Dave's vulgar desires. I knew I was going to have to hold him at bay for the next three days but I could not tell my husband or he would not agreed to make the necessary trip. 

I tried to remain distant to Dave as the remainder of the day progressed. John had only been gone a few hours and already I missed him.

We went though the motions of cooking our dinner ashore and then boarded Zaka for the night.

There was plenty of cabin space for privacy aboard Zaka with a captain's quarters on the port side and a separate crew's sleeping cabin up forward. Dave said he would bunk in the crew's cabin.

That first night Dave was on his best behavior. Gentleman like in every regard and treating me as if our spouses were still present. Bundled up to the neck in my flannel robe I bid him goodnight as he adjourned to his cabin.

I slept a restless sleep that night imagining every noise was the sounds of Dave entering my room. I kept the covers up to my chin in spite of the tropical temperature. Dawn came with no justification for my fears.

"What do you want to do today?" Dave asked over our morning coffee.

I told him I had some chores to catch up on, laundry and some housecleaning around the cabins.

Dave said it was too nice a day to waste working and we should go and explore the other side of the island. I had not yet seen the island's windward side and was easily talked into accompanying him for the short trek.

I changed into my cut-off blue jean shorts and a light cotton sleeveless top and applying a liberal amount of insect repellant we set off.

Dave was my Tarzan, hacking a trail through the thick underbrush with his home-made machete. About fifteen minutes later we emerged from the jungle on the other side of our island home.

Sweat was dripping from us from the intense humidity in the lush green jungle we had just transverse. The crystal blue waters sparkled before us with gentle surf lapping up onto the white sand.

"Want to cool off?" Dave asked.

The water did look inviting but neither of us had thought to bring our swimsuits. I did not want to appear reserved enough to wear my outer clothes into the water so I stripped down to my bra and panties and run into the surf with Dave on my heels. 

The water felt so cool and refreshing as I dove under the surface. When I resurface I stood in water waist-deep and saw my bra had become transparent. My stiff nipples were clearly discernable through the thin, wet material.

Dave porpoise to the surface some three feet from me and immediately his eyes locked on my semi-naked breasts.

I looked down into the clear water and saw Dave was not wearing anything, his free cock swayed in the current like a hunting eel. I knew if I could see his cock he would be able to see me through my wet panties.

Our eyes locked together as he approached me.

Dave took me into his arms and I could feel his erection pressing against my belly with only a thin layer of silk between us.

I did not resist his advances but raised my lips to meet his. It was a passionate kiss with our tongues entwined in a preliminary joust to love making.

"No, on the beach!" I said as his hand started to pull down the waistband of my panties.

Dave held my hand as we waded ashore.

I selected a patch of lush grass close to the water's edge and under the canopy of palms. As I lay down Dave removed my wet underwear rendering me naked for his pleasure.

My legs opened as I lay naked on the grass welcoming this stranger to enter me. Dave's muscular body covered me as I waited for his cock to go into my waiting passageway. 

Closing my eyes I felt his mushroom head searching my pubic hair for the concealed entrance to my womanhood.

I had ceased shaving during our voyage opting for the natural look preferred my many of the South Seas women. Dave's cock parted my curly locks like a divining rod seeking water. Finding a trace of moisture he parted my labia and begins his journey into me.

The first noticeable thing was Dave's cock was thicker than John's, stretching my vaginal walls beyond what John's did to gain entry. I winced with the unusual discomfort of accommodating such a large member.

Dave impaled me with a smooth and powerful thrust, his carbide-hard auger digging its way towards my cervix. Mercifully I felt his ball come to rest on my pussy lips, he was entirely in me.

Dave was the first man I had allowed to make love to me in fifteen years. There had been the one time I was raped at the office party by a drunken coworker. I had attended the party unaccompanied as John was away on a dental conference and we had not long been married. Being a naïve twenty-two-year-old I had trustingly attended the party unescorted in hopes of getting my mind of John's absence for an evening. 

I had drunk a bit too much and was the belle of the dance floor jiving it up with all the husbands who wanted a turn with the woman in the red dress.

Fred Pearce the company's bookkeeper had lured me into a cloakroom and had his wicked way with me. Between the racks of coats he had fucked me standing up and blown a huge load into me.

He left me sobbing with his sperm running down the insides of my legs as he rejoined his wife in the banquet room.

Now another man was in me and I was wrapping my legs around his hips drawing his cock deeper into my hungry cunt.

Was I a nymphomaniac? Had my husband not fucked me less than twenty-four hours ago? Why did I need this stranger's cock in me now? Questions flooded my mind as I moaned softly.

Dave had begin fucking me. Slowly at first his huge cock started its in and out stokes with my vaginal wall sticking to it like a rubber glove.

"Fuck me Dave!" I moaned just before we kissed.

It had been a long time since I was fucked like Dave fucked me. He was aggressive yet his cock seemed tailor made for my pussy. The curvature of his tool brought sensation to parts of my fuck hole that my husband's neglected, I was heating up fast.

I didn't think I was capable of another orgasm having come with John just a couple of nights previous, one orgasm a week was my custom if I were lucky. Yet I could feel the beginning of a possible climax stirring around Dave's cock.

Like most women I had experienced countless orgasms, some memorial but most routine. The process of coming had become automatic with the proper cock action in my cunt. Dave's cock promised something different.

At first it was just a hint of an orgasm, a low murmuring of things to come. As his cock fell into an allegro rhythm inside of me it was if he were fanning a flame turning it into an inferno. He gradually progressed to his crescendo dragging me along with him.

We climaxed in perfect harmony, Dave's sperm deluging the fire he had started within me.

"Oh yes Baby!" I moaned as my orgasm claimed me. 

I could do nothing but lay there with the ejaculating bull between my legs as shock waves trammeled my body.

I could feel the orgasm in my entire body, my teeth my hair and even my toenails! 

Eventually a final shiver passed through me signaling the completion of my orgasm.

I was conquered and I was now Dave's whore. For the next two days I would be his to do with as he pleased.

We fucked on that beach for almost an hour before we returned to Zaka.

Back aboard Zaka we screwed again, this time in mine and John's bed. Dave was like the Eveready Rabbit; he just kept going and going.

Finally I had to ask Dave to stop so we could get something to eat. The sun was going down and we hadn't eaten all day.

Reluctantly Dave allowed me to make us some burgers on Zaka's cooking stove. As I watched the blue alcohol flame sizzling the quarter-pound beef burgers I knew Dave was going to want to pound my pussy some more after we had eaten. Not use to our fucking marathon my cunt was starting to get sore.

We ate our burgers sitting at the galley table, Dave naked and me wearing only a calico apron.

Dave scarfed his burger washing it down with a couple of beers anxious to get back at my body.

"Let's fuck some more." He said jumping up from the table with his perpetual erection threatening my worn-out pussy. 

"Come here, I want to suck it!" I answered.

Dave's eyes light up and he smiled when I volunteered to put his cock in my mouth. I doubted whether Judy had ever offered to give his a blowjob.

Dave walked over to me holding his hard cock in his hand.

The head of his pecker was almost touching my lips when I took the hard shaft from him. Opening my mouth wide I guided him into my waiting mouth.

My lips sealed around his shaft as his cock lay on my tongue. He was big, a real mouthful. I tilted my head back so his cockhead could enter my throat.

Back in my high school days I had become quite proficient at deepthroating cocks. I had a reputation amongst the boys and was never without a date.

Carefully I worked him into me until my lower lip touched his sack, I had his eight or nine inches of cock completely in my head.

My tongue begins to do its magic routine, caressing the underside of his meat and swirling up and around each side. All the while I was sucking and forming a perfect vacuum chamber around his cock. 

"Oh fuck yes!" Dave moaned as his hips began bucking.

He firmly held the back of my head while he skull-fucked me.

My jaw was starting to get sore before he came. I didn't think he would have that much jism left in him but when he started to shoot spurt after spurt of thick cream flooded my mouth. His cock was far enough into my throat for most of his snot to slide down my gullet like a big juicy worm. As the last of his sperm dribbled from his cockhead my tongue licked him clean.

"Where did you learn to suck cock like that?" Dave asked.

"I get around." I smiled taking a last lick at his spent cock.

"Your husband is one lucky man!" Dave exclaimed.

Thankfully John and Judy made good time and the blue cat slipped into the lagoon early in the third day following their departure.

John had obtained the necessary repair supplies he required and he was glad to be back to his two loves, Zaka and me.

"Well, how was he?" Judy looked at me knowingly.

"What do you mean?" I asked trying to look confused.

"Dave did you like his cock in you?" she replied.

My mind started spinning, she knew all the time! she and Dave had planned my seduction before leaving.

That started me wondering about her and John, he wouldn't, would he? 



Compromised



Once Upon a Time...

Wednesday

This was turning into a disaster. Megan squirmed in her seat.

"I'm a guy, you know? I like head, and Megan hasn't been willing to go down on me since our honeymoon. When we were dating, she was this champion fellatrix -- then I put a ring on her finger, and it's bye-bye oral!"

Megan teetered between shame and anger, then decided she could choose both. She stopped hiding her face and glared at him, her cheeks crimson with mortification. How dare he?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Dr. Esmer held his hand up like he was cop directing traffic. "Hold on, Megan, I can see you want to speak and I promise you will get your chance. But right now we are listening to Eric." 

Megan crossed her arms in front of her chest, and seethed. This is an outrage. She turned her incinerating gaze to Dr. Esmer, and thought, in what field is your doctorate?

"Keep going Eric. What else is troubling you about your marriage?" Dr. Esmer had this ingratiating look on his face, like he wanted to keep everyone happy. That ain't happening

"A lot of it is sex. Before we were married, and shortly after, we were fucking like minks. Now I am lucky if I get laid twice a month. Plus it's turned vanilla. Before the wedding she was opening up. She would attack me when I got home from work. I would wake up in the middle of the night and find her straddling me. We would go out on dates and she would surprise me by showing me she wasn't wearing underwear. On our honeymoon in Hawaii we had sex 50 feet from molten lava, on warm volcanic rock, with a tour group just barely out of sight. She used to give me lap dances. Now she never initiates. It's like I am begging for it."

Begging won't be enough from this point, Megan thought to herself. She continued stewing as Eric continued his litany of Megan's marital sins, exposing all their secrets in front of this stranger. 

"She had promised me she would open up more after the wedding. I like to watch women masturbate, you know? It's hot. Megan would never do that. I wanted to try anal. 'Maybe after we are married', she said. That particular cork is still in the bottle."

Dr. Esmer noticed Megan's discomfort, and addressed it. "Megan, I told you when we started. I have a unique method of marriage counseling. I promise to fix any marriage in one session, with a money back guarantee, but only if couples are completely honest with me. We need Eric to say what is exactly on his mind."

Megan bit her tongue, tasting acid. 

Dr. Esmer shifted his attention back to Eric. "Anything besides sex?" 

"She has turned into a nag. 'Put your shoes away. Don't set that glass there. Wash the counters. Don't leave your books on the counter. Your laundry is piling up. Clean the bathroom.' It's like she follows me around the house looking for messes for me to clean up."

Megan could hold back no more. "They are your messes!" This was his sin, not hers, and he was making himself out to be the victim.

Eric shrugged his shoulders and looked at Dr. Esmer as if he were vindicated.

"Eric, is there anything else?"

"No, Sex and nagging is more than enough, thank you." Eric turned to face her. "Megan, I want the amazing woman I married. Where the fuck did she go?"

"She's exhausted and cranky from cleaning up all the shit you leave around the house." She felt a surge of satisfaction, which was quickly followed by a feeling of guilt, and then annoyance at feeling guilty.

"Hold on Megan." Dr. Esmer wasn't letting her follow up. "I also want Eric to tell us what is strong in your marriage."

"Right now, nothing." His lips twitched after he spoke, like he was flinching from his own words. He looked away from her.

"Come now. You married her. You were in love. What drew you to her in the first place?"

Eric's face transformed from annoyance into bemusement. "The first thing most people notice about Megan is her strength, although they don't always put it that way. But she can also be very sweet if she likes you. I thought Megan was the most wonderful person I had ever met. She is generous, always helping people out. She always tried to see the best in people."

Not right now, I don't, Megan thought, feeling guilt at the dissonance between Eric's words and her own anger.

Eric continued. "I'm a cop. We spend too much time dealing with garbage. I see a lot of bad people in the world. Even most of the supposedly good people I meet are just posturing. They only do the right thing when someone is watching. If no one is watching, they will either make sure everyone is looking at them so they can get credit for being good, or they will do the wrong thing. Not Megan. You know that bumper sticker that says 'commit random acts of kindness'? That's her. There is an old couple that lives down the block. She drops off meals once a week, and salts their driveway in winter."

Esmer spoke up. "That does indeed sound admirable. Is she still like that now, or did that change when you married?"

Eric looked reluctant when he admitted, "She is still like that."

Megan had been noting how Eric had been speaking in the present tense, and had felt a burst of affection, but it died now. Instead, Megan felt the rage rising again. He had to be dragged into admitting she was still a decent person? The fucker.

"She is always staying busy, doing something cool. She spent several weeks last year teaching herself Italian. Before that, it was how to make sushi. She isn't greedy. That's rare in doctors. Most of the ones I meet seem to be all about the Mercedes and the McMansion." Eric paused, and continued. "And I like her strength. Some of her coworkers at the hospital called her "Dr. Bitch", but I like strong women. You might look at her and see a petite little thing who would blow away in a wind, but she is tough. Cops need that in a wife."

Megan looked at the floor, belying the strength he had just described. She wasn't sure she loved him any more. There was too much resentment. Part of her feared this counseling session was going to be useless. She was ashamed at the small part of her that hoped it would be.

Dr. Esmer smiled. "Excellent. That is a strong foundation from which we can work. Megan, it's your turn. What do you see as the challenges facing your marriage?"

Megan had been holding back for what felt like an eternity, and the floodgates opened. "There is just so much to do, you know? I work at the clinic, and then get home and I just want a clean house. I can't relax when there is stuff to do. I have always been that way. By the time I get done making dinner and cleaning the house, I am exhausted. And he doesn't help. He wakes up in the morning, throws his clothes on the bed, and throws his shower towel on the floor of the bathroom. I find his toothbrush and razor sitting on the sink instead of where they belong and he never cleans his razor stubble out of the sink. The cap isn't on the toothpaste, his cereal bowl is in the sink instead of the dishwasher, and the newspaper is scattered on the dining room table. He can't find the recycling bin."

Megan paused for breath. "And that's just in one half hour of the morning. I ask him to do it, and he says he has to get to work. I ask him to clean up when he comes home, and he says he is too tired, or it doesn't need to be done."

"It usually doesn't."

Esmer put up the stop sign gesture to shush Eric.

Megan threw her hands up in the air. "You see? He doesn't seem to understand that things need to be put away. Everything has its proper place and should go where it belongs. He won't do dishes or laundry. He won't vacuum. The youngest detective in the history of the Indianapolis Police Department -- he can catch the Butler Burglar, but can't find the goddamned toothbrush holder. I end up cleaning up every mess, and then when I am done he starts coming on to me and I am too pissed off or tired for sex."

Esmer was writing this down on his notepad. "What are the strengths in your marriage?"

"God, I wish I could remember. I spend most of the day pissed at him." She shook her head, and ran her fingers through her long hair, then took a deep breath and let it out. "Eric has a good heart. I am proud of his job and how good he is at it. He is thoughtful in most ways -- like flowers, and romantic vacations. He is smart and funny and tells great stories." She looked into Eric's eyes. "I dated a lot of guys who couldn't put up with me. They called me a bitch, or a cunt. Eric says I've got moxie." She half-smiled at him for the first time today.

"Moxie?" Esmer looked at Eric, who scrunched up his lips and shrugged. "Well, you have enough fight in you to come here, trying to save your marriage." Esmer set down his notebook. "OK, we have two real issues so far -- sex and housework. Any others?"

Megan said nothing. Eric just shrugged.

Esmer pressed them. "Money? Most couples fight about money."

Eric volunteered. "Never been an issue. We are both pretty frugal, and have good jobs."

Megan assented.

"How about family? Any conflicts withs? That's another common one."

"No," Megan said.

Eric pursed his lips and nodded. "Her family is cool. I even like her flaky sister."

Esmer appeared satisfied. "Then let's talk about sex. Megan, are you happy with your sex life?"

"No. I mean, I used to think if I was more relaxed I would want sex more, and then I would be happy with it. But lately I just don't give a fuck. I am too pissed at him."

"We need to address that now. Do you want to save this marriage or not? If not we can stop wasting each other's time."

Am I ready to give up? "I think this is probably a waste of time, but I am here, aren't I?"

Esmer took that as a yes. "Back to sex. How about the 'edgier' stuff that your husband was discussing?" 

"You think I should give him more head?"

"It isn't what I want. Sexual compatibility is important in a marriage. Couples need to discuss these things through, and determine which sexual activities are on the table. If anything is off the table, they need to be honest about it."

"Eric and I had those conversations before we got married. The only things I would take completely off the table are bondage stuff, and him cheating on me. Pain hurts, it isn't sexy. And if he tried to bring another woman into my bed, I would cut his dick off."

Eric chimed in. "You do care!" He had a goofy grin on his face. 

She couldn't help but smile. Not for the first time, Megan wondered why Eric saw her abrasiveness as charming. Moxie.

Eric continued, "I never wanted to cheat on her anyway. Look at her? Why would I want to? I think it would be fun to tie her up, but I knew Megan wasn't the submissive type when I married her."

"So that leaves us with household chores." 

Esmer was ready to move on to the next topic, but Eric wasn't. "Wait a minute. How does that leave us with household chores? You didn't solve anything related to sex."

"No, but I see a potential framework."

"How does that help?"

"Eric, I offer a 100% money back guarantee. You have nothing to lose by bearing with me."

Eric looked skeptical but said nothing.

"You both have said money isn't a problem. Have you considered hiring a housekeeper?"

"We discussed it. Megan doesn't want anyone with that kind of access to our house."

"So that leaves it up to you. What is the deal with the chores, Eric?"

"It's a couple things. I don't even notice that they need to get done. Most messes don't bother me. If it's something that will attract mice, or makes the floor sticky, sure, I notice it and clean it up. But she gets upset if I leave the mail on the counter."

"So why do you leave the mail on the counter?"

"I don't think about it. You know that joke where the guy says to not think about an elephant, so you start thinking of one? Its like that in reverse. It doesn't occur to me to start thinking about an elephant until someone says something."

"But you were complaining that she nags you, so it sounds like she is saying something."

"That gets to the other thing. A lot of what she wants done is useless. Why put the toothpaste in the vanity cabinet when I am just going to get it out again in the morning? She wants me to get out of bed, and put the toothpaste away. It's ridiculous. If she reminds me when I am in the bathroom, I will do it, but otherwise it just irritates me."

"Marriage requires some mutual compromise."

"Where is her compromise?"

"How about sex?"

"What?"

"Isn't there room for a compromise about sex?"

"We have tried changing our behavior before, but it never takes, and we fall back into our old habits."

"It sounds like you were happy with your sex life before you got married."

"Yeah, I think it was the romance of dating. I love her, but I am afraid that this is just who she is now, and the Megan I dated was just how she acts when she is infatuated. We had kind of a whirlwind courtship. I think maybe we married before we knew each other well enough. Now it's too late. I mean, I am a cop. I see the same low-lifes in jail or court every week. You can't change who you are."

"Not even with the proper incentive?"

"What do you mean?"

Esmer stood up. "Eric, I need to talk to Megan alone for a few minutes."

Eric gave her a teasing look. "You're in trouble..." He left Esmer' office, and headed toward the lobby.

Megan turned back to look at Esmer. He was holding a metronome. He set it on his desk, and it began to tick...

---

"Megan?"

Megan felt drowsy. Had she dozed off?

"Megan?" It was Dr. Esmer' voice.

"What happened?"

"Don't be concerned. It's pretty common when we practice these relaxation exercises. Can you get your husband out of the lobby?"

Megan rose. She felt very relaxed. The cobwebs had left her brain quickly. She opened the door, and saw Eric waiting in the lobby, playing some game on his iPhone. He looked up at her and smiled.

She did love his smile. God, this would all be so much easier if he would just help clean up the damned house.

Eric joined her in the office. 

Esmer shook his hand. "I think we are done here. If either of you aren't fully satisfied, call me in a week, and we can arrange for a refund."

Eric looked surprised. "We are done? We didn't do anything. You don't have anything you want us to practice? Like catching each other before we fall?"

"Would that help you?" Esmer looked curious.

"No."

"Then why would I want you do it?"

Megan could tell that Eric's surprise was turning to anger. "We just paid you $2000 and all you did was listen to us for an hour. What the hell is this?"

"I charge $2000 for one session because unlike other counselors, you get all your results from one session, and I don't get repeat business. I depend instead on referrals, like you."

"Yeah, John and Sandy said you were a genius and saved their marriage, but that's not the point."

"It is the point. Did they say how I saved their marriage?"

"No, they were kind of vague."

"Then you will have to trust me for one week. If not satisfied, you will get a refund."

Megan could tell that Eric was not satisfied right now. "Dr. Esmer, how many of your clients have requested refunds?"

Esmer had a gleam in his eye. "Out of the 900 couples I have treated?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "Zero."

---

Eric was cranky on the drive home. He muttered about how Esmer was a fraud, and he would find some legal loophole to screw them over.

"You really think he is going to try to defraud a police detective? Let's wait a week. If we aren't happy, we can worry about that then."

Eric appeared slightly mollified. "But he didn't do anything. We just talked. I see crooks get sent to talk therapy all the time. All it does is talk the shrink into writing a letter saying that Johnny has learned to control his anger management issues, and should be let out of jail so he can go beat his wife again. Even those quacks don't claim they can guarantee results in one session."

"One week."

Eric glanced at her. "What did the two of you discuss in there?"

"Relaxation techniques."

"Like what?"

Megan frowned. It was a little fuzzy. She must have dozed off pretty earlier. "Deep breathing, that sort of thing."

"How is that supposed to help us?"

"He didn't say." She paused. "How long was I in there alone?"

Eric crinkled his brow. "You don't know? Thirty -- forty minutes."

"I think his techniques must have worked. I dozed off."

Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head.

--- 

Eric was in bed before Megan. She walked into the bathroom. Sure enough, he had left his toothbrush on the counter. The toothpaste tube had the cap off, and was sitting next to it. His clothes had been thrown at, rather than into, the laundry basket, and he wasn't a great shot. Eric's shoes were in the middle of the bathroom floor. 

Goddammit, he wasn't even trying. Megan felt the familiar frustration building up insider her. She cleaned up the mess, and put his clothes where they belonged.

As she undressed, she felt Eric's eyes upon her. A chill went up her spine, driven by her knowledge that her naked body had that effect on him, but it wouldn't be enough tonight. 

When she shut the lights off and climbed into bed, she felt Eric spoon up behind her. She felt his large erection pressing into the crack of her ass. His muscular arms reached across her and gently stroked her stomach and the undersides of her breasts.

Megan didn't respond. She was still annoyed about the mess in the bathroom, and Eric's accusations in Esmer' office. They had just spent $2000 because Eric wouldn't clean up his shit. It was like he was deliberately trying to piss her off.

Eric eventually gave up. He sighed, and rolled over.

Megan felt a twinge of guilt. He loved her, and thought she was sexy. Maybe she would be in the mood tomorrow. She was afraid that in the direction they were going, This might be the last year of their marriage. Next week was Valentine's Day and it might be their last. The counseling session seemed to be a bust, and she was out of ideas. 

Megan fought back tears as she fell asleep.

---

Thursday

Eric was almost ready to head out the door. He kept his gun on top of the cabinet next to the refrigerator, and was putting it on when Megan stopped him. "There is a full basket of laundry in the bathroom with your name on it."

"Tonight, honey. I need to be at work."

"It's only seven. You told me they don't need you at work until eight."

She saw his lips purse and his eyes roll, but he headed back into the bathroom, and returned carrying a load of laundry. It was a big load. He had over-stacked the basket, as usual. She liked the way his biceps flexed as he carried it. She thought about how much she used to love the feel of those arms around her. When he flexed, they felt like baseballs were under his skin.

Eric walked down the stairs toward the laundry room, and Megan watched how his ass moved in his khaki work slacks. On a whim, she decided to follow him.

He threw his clothes into the washing machine. He wasn't separating lights and darks, she noticed. He is such a guy. But lack of color separation didn't bother her. He was the one who had to wear the clothes, not her. If he didn't mind his tighty whities turning powder blue, that was his problem. She just wanted them off the goddamned floor.

And he had done it -- grudgingly, but he had done it. She felt a load of stress leave her mind, and she felt relaxed.

That was how she used to always feel when Eric was around -- relaxed -- safe. He looked out for her. He looked out for everybody. Wasn't that how they had met? 

---

She had gotten a text from Carmen asking her to pick her up at St. Andrews hospital. "Nthng srs but need ride plz."




Compromised



When she had arrived at the hospital, they directed her to Carmen's room. Megan had done her residency at St. Andrews, which had just ended the year before. She saw a lot of people she knew. Most nodded politely. One nurse flinched when she saw Megan, and muttered, "Dr. Bitch" under her breath. She had taken pride when that epithet was used by the less talented and hardworking staff. It only bothered her when used by people she respected. The nurse was not in the latter category, and Megan ignored her.

She noticed a man standing in the hallway outside her destination. He was tall, muscular under his sport coat and slacks, and had a mustache. She had only had the time for the occasional short term fling during her residency, and was only now getting back into the dating pool. The mustache was a turn-off, but otherwise he looked like her type.

The man watched her approach. His eyes didn't linger too long on her breasts, but he clearly was checking her out. Since he was cute, and stood with the sort of arrogance that she liked in guys, she looked and noticed he had no wedding ring. 

He moved to intercept her as she pivoted to head into Carmen's room.

Megan crossed her arms and met his gaze. "You a cop?" She asked.

His eyes opened slightly, and he smiled. "I am asking the questions here. How did you know?"

"The mustache. Only cops, bikers, and gay guys wear them any more. You aren't dressed like a biker, and a gay man wouldn't have imagined me naked while I walked down the hall."

He smiled, but self-consciously stroked his mustache with his left hand. "Cops, gays, and bikers..."

Megan frowned as the implications of his presence hit her. "Is my sister in trouble?" 

"You are Ms. Cross's sister? No, she is not in trouble, but she was the victim of an assault."

Megan felt hatred rise in her throat. That bastard. She pushed past the detective and walked into the room.

Carmen was getting dressed behind a curtain. She looked up as Megan came into view. "Oh thank you for coming. I feel like such an idiot." Carmen was crying -- her tears flowing down past a swollen right eye. She also had a bruised lip. Chris had hit her. The fucker. I saw this coming. I warned her.

"Can I come in yet?"

"That's the police detective," Carmen explained to Megan. She finished buttoning her jeans, then called out, "Yes, thanks for waiting."

The detective pulled out a laptop and sat in a chair. "Please tell me what happened."

Carmen relayed her story. She had finally decided to break up with her asshole boyfriend, and he wasn't happy. He went to Carmen's apartment, weaseled his way inside and beat her. He only left when the neighbors had announced they had called the police. The police had called an ambulance, which took her to the hospital.

The detective asked more questions filling in the details. How long had she known Chris? What was his full name? What was his address. Any other addresses? Phone number? Had he done this before? Were there any witnesses other than the neighbors who called 9-1-1? 

Megan was focused on Carmen, holding her hand and hugging her. She listened to the detective, but otherwise ignored him. Her sister was her world right now.

Then Carmen started crying again. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have broken up with him. I knew it would make him angry and make him do this."

Megan felt anger welling up again, but before she could speak, the detective voiced her thoughts for her.

"Don't! The only person at fault here is him. Never think for a minute that you deserved this, or that you earned it. He assaulted you. This is a serious crime. He is looking at jail time, and possibly prison."

Carmen nodded, and seemed to draw some strength from his words.

Megan gave him an appreciative smile. Carmen had heard this from Megan before, but hearing it from an alpha male like Muscles here was far better. "What's your name, detective?"

"Eric Fletcher."

"Nice to meet you, Detective Fletcher." She held his eyes for what she knew was longer than proper.

---

That was who Eric was, Megan thought. She felt a warmth rising within her. Why was she letting petty stuff like household chores get in the way of what should be a happy marriage to a good man? 

Eric was almost done loading the washing machine. She had been staring at his muscles all morning, it seemed, and she now wanted to feel them -- not with her hands, but with her skin. She wanted the touch of her breasts against his pecs, her arms around his neck, and her thighs against his legs. An idea suddenly struck her. She saw a chair in the laundry room, and she picked it up.

The noise of the chair scraping on the cement floor attracted Eric's attention. He still looked annoyed. "Are you checking up on me to make sure I did it?"

Megan wanted to defuse his mood. "No, I just like to watch you do stuff. I like to watch you move. I love your body."

Eric gave a half smile, as if he wasn't sure whether she was humoring him. He closed the lid on the washing machine and started it. 

When he turned to leave, Megan was standing right in front of him, her body inches from his. Megan watched him start in surprise.

She reached up and put her hands around his neck, and gave him a sultry smile. "You aren't done yet."

His smile was more genuine now. "Oh?"

"There are a few other pieces of clothing that need to be washed." Megan moved closer to him, and kept moving, pushing him backwards. She steered him toward the chair. When Eric's legs were up against it, Megan slid her hands down Eric's thighs, and pushed down, indicating he should sit. 

He sat, looking up at her with the expression of a kid being told Christmas was now every month.

Megan slowly walked behind him, letting her hands run over the firm muscles she had been admiring earlier. When she came around the other side of the chair, she stepped her left leg across his body and sat down on Eric's lap, straddling his hips. She couldn't feel an erection yet, but that was a situation she could fix.

She crossed her hands in front of her breasts, and let her fingers slide down along her curves until her nails were able to lift the bottom hem of her black baby doll t-shirt. She curled her fingers underneath, and watched Eric's eyes as she slowly lifted the shirt up, first exposing a firm stomach, then the underside of her bra, and finally the tops of her breasts. She pulled the shirt over her head, gave what she hoped was a sultry twirl, and threw it on top of the washing machine.

Eric's hands were immediately touching her stomach. He felt the flat expanse of her midriff, curved his strong fingers around her waist, and moved them up to caress the skin of her breasts. 

Megan smiled down on him. She knew he liked her body. She went to yoga three days a week, and pilates classes on the other four, and she was proud of how it paid off. She felt the stiffening of his cock in his pants, and she rubbed up against him to show she knew it was there. 

She felt his hands leave her breasts and move to her back. He was going to undo her bra. She leaned back to put the straps out of reach, and pushed his hands down. No, she was going to do it herself. Her hands pushed the shoulder straps off of her shoulder, and Eric immediately started touching her neck. He always complimented her when she wore tube tops and strapless dresses. She knew he thought her shoulders and neck were beautiful. She let her neck swan backward in response to his touch.

Reaching behind to undo her own brassiere had the bonus affect of thrusting her chest forward. Eric's hands began playing with the edges of her bra in anticipation. 

Megan laughed to herself. She was going to make sure he understood the "tease" part of "striptease". She gave one thrust against his pelvis, and then stood up, pulling her breasts out of his reach. She turned away from him as she undid the bra clasp, and kept her back facing him as she threw her bra on top of the washing machine. When she turned around again, her left arm was crossed in front of both breasts. 

Eric smiled as he finally recognized what she was doing. "You haven't flirted and teased me like this in years. What got into you?"

"I think you mean, what's gonna get into me." She looked at his crotch to emphasize the point. Her right hand undid the fly of her jeans as she began to sway her hips in front of Eric's face.

She turned her back again so she could push her jeans down. Megan remembered that she was wearing her practical cotton panties, and felt regret. She doubted Eric would complain, but she wished she was wearing something sexier.

Eric whistled as her jeans slid to the floor, and she kicked them off, along with her shoes. She felt his hands touch her flanks, and knead the flesh of her ass. She flexed appreciatively, and pressed her hips back into his hands.

Keeping her back to him, and her left arm on her breasts, she sat back down on his lap. She spread her legs wide so she could feel his hard cock press against her clit. "God, I am getting so horny", she moaned. She undulated her hips on top of his cock, and felt just how wet she was.

Eric ran his hands along her sides, hips, and thighs. He moved them back up, feathering the soft skin of her inner thighs. He was planning to touch her vagina, she could tell.

The washing machine entered the spin cycle, which brought the passage of time to her attention. "Eric, do you have time to make love to me before work?"

"Not if I want to do it right." he was toying with her clit through the damp cotton fabric of her panties.

"Then do it wrong."

Eric's hands went underneath her legs, and he stood up, carrying her with him. She was surprised when he set her down on top of the washing machine. She opened her legs for him.

He stepped closer and kissed her. "I won't settle for wrong."

A wave of pleasure coursed through Megan's body. The vibrations from the spinning washing machine were pounding her clitoris. She moaned, and pulled Eric closer to her, hoping to change his mind. Get your cock in me now, dammit.

Eric knew the effect the machine was having on her, and simply held her thighs down, while kissing her.

The vibrations quickly became too much for Megan. She opened her mouth wide in a low moan as she came.

Eric kissed her once more, and headed up the stairs. "Tonight," was all he said before he left for work.

---

Megan looked forward to the end of her shift all day. She spent a good share of the day reliving their encounter in the laundry room. At one point, she had been reviewing the results of an MRI, and part of the image struck her as vaguely phallic. She suddenly recalled how Eric's cock had felt rubbing up against her. She had moaned in response, drawing a concerned question from the patient. She had answered that she was impressed by the size of the patient's cerebellum.

But her sense of arousal persisted, and she kept checking the clock to see when she could leave. When the end of her shift arrived, she was the first out the door.

Eric was a little late returning. He worked further away, so she usually beat him home. When she heard the garage door open shortly after six, she quick checked herself in the mirror. "Stunning", she thought. She had even put on a g-string that Eric liked, and she looked forward to him discovering she was wearing it. She was damp between her legs in anticipation.

She struck a provocative pose with one leg up on a kitchen chair, and waited for him to enter from the garage. 

The door opened, and he saw her. Apparently, he had been looking forward to this all day as well, as he grinned, threw his coat on the floor, and moved toward her.

Megan deflated. "Honey, can you hang your coat up?"

"Later. You are more important." He placed his hand on her thigh.

"The hook is two feet away. It takes just as much effort to put it on the hook as it does to throw it on the floor."

She watched a storm rise in Eric's eyes. "God, you are unbelievable!"

"Please?"

"I have been looking forward to this all day. You got me so worked up this morning, and the first thing you do when I walk through the door is nag me."

The coat drew her attention like a magnet. Messes always had this affect on her. "Fine, I will do it." She walked over, picked up his coat, and put it on the hook. She noticed Eric roll his eyes, and that only infuriated her.

When he reached to hold her, she simply walked away, saying, "Let's eat dinner."

Eric looked sullen all through their meal, and afterwords had stormed into the TV room to watch a hockey game. 

When Eric came to bed that night, he rolled onto his side and faced away from her, saying nothing. 

All I need to do is touch him, she thought to herself. If I snuggle up behind him and put my arm around him, he will have an erection within minutes, and I can drift my hand down and start jerking him off. He will have his cock inside me in under ten minutes. All I have to do his touch him. 

But this was his fault. He was acting like a surly teenager, refusing to hang up his coat, refusing to apologize, and now giving her the silent treatment. Fuck him -- or rather -- don't.

Megan rolled over and went to sleep.

---

Friday

Eric got home at six. After dinner, he had the courtesy to put his plate in the dishwasher, but started walking toward the TV room. 

Megan looked at the pans that had been dirtied preparing dinner, and felt irritated that he expected her to do it. "Sweetie, can you help me with the dishes? If you can scrub the pans, I will get the rest."

Eric said nothing, but took a station by the sink, and began filling it with hot water. Megan finished cleaning off the table and started on the counters, and then stopped.

Her attention was drawn by the way Eric's muscles moved as he scrubbed the pans. She caught herself cleaning the same section of the counter a second time, just so she could have a better angle watching his hands. Megan watched him scour their cast iron skillet, noticing the strength and precision of his fingers. 

Megan sat down on one of the kitchen stools to watch him closer, and remembered how often those hands had pleasured her. 

---

Eric had arrested Carmen's ex-boyfriend at his apartment the day after the attack. Chris had been charged with assault, but had posted bail. Eric called after Chris had left the jail. Since Megan had insisted that Carmen stay at her house for a few weeks, she had given Eric her phone number as a contact. 

Carmen, as usual, was refusing to deal with the particulars of everyday life. She was a free spirit, their mother liked to say. She is an idiot, Megan would respond. She didn't really mean it. Carmen was her sister, and she loved her, but she could be so... impractical.

Eric recommended a restraining order. "He has a history of domestic abuse. He has three priors for assault. All girlfriends. The bad news is that he may not give up easily. The good news is that he is probably looking at prison time."

"Will Chris comply with a restraining order?"

"I doubt it."

"Then why bother?"

"Because it is crime to violate a restraining order. You don't have to wait for him to attack Carmen. He can get up to a year in jail just for showing up at the front door, and in a case where the subject is already being charged with assault, the judge will likely throw the book at him."

They got the restraining order. 

That Thursday evening, there had been a knock at Megan's door. She checked through the peephole, and didn't immediately recognize the man on the other side. It wasn't Chris, but he looked familiar. The man smiled, and she realized that it was Eric.

She hadn't recognized him because he had shaved his mustache.

Megan opened the door, suppressing her own smile. "How can we help you, detective?"

"I just wanted to see how your sister was doing, to see if she had been bothered by her ex. Sometimes the victim doesn't call the police when there is contact, and I like to follow-up periodically."

"Carmen hasn't been contacted, have you --" Megan looked over at Carmen, who was sitting on the couch. Carmen was biting her lower lip, looking sheepish. "Fuck, I guess you had better come in, detective."

Chris had called Carmen's cell phone early today, complaining about the restraining order, begging her to take him back. Eric said that one phone call wasn't enough to have Chris arrested, but that he would file the paperwork with the prosecutor who send a legal warning and reminder. If Chris did it again, they could arrest him.

Eric reminded Carmen to call the police if Chris contacted her again. But he looked at Megan during the reminder, obviously believing that Carmen might need help remembering. Megan had nodded her understanding. "Detective Fletcher, we were just making supper. Would you care to join us?"

"Thank you Dr. Cross, but I wouldn't want to impose."

"Please. You have been so thoughtful. Consider it our effort to support our police department."

Carmen was looking at Megan with a shocked, teasing, expression. 

Megan kicked her when the detective wasn't looking.

Eric accepted the invitation. Megan served Beef Stroganoff. Eric ate two servings, complimented her cooking, and thanked her profusely. 

When he departed, Carmen burst out what she had been thinking. "Oh my God, you little slut, you are hitting on him!"

"He has been nice to you. I wanted to say thank you."

"You like him."

"What's not to like?"

"Didn't he have a mustache at the hospital?"

"Yes. He shaved it."

"I wonder why he did that?"

"Maybe somebody implied it looked gay."

"You didn't!"

It was Megan's turn to look sheepish.

Eric had stopped by the next Monday. He asked again whether Chris had contacted Carmen. Carmen insisted he hadn't. Eric inspected their door locks, and with their approval, installed a deadbolt on the back door, using hardware he "just happened to have" in his car. 

Megan knew this was going above and beyond in the "protect and serve" department. She made him a bacon and scallion risotto that was one of her secret weapons with guys. He loved it.

When he left, Carmen insisted that the detective's eyes had rarely left Megan all evening. Megan smiled at that.

On Thursday he stopped by once more. He brought a couple cans of pepper spray. "Just in case." 

Megan cooked steak. 

"You never cook steak," Carmen had whispered.

"Shush, you."

When he readied to leave their house, Megan stopped him at the door. "Why don't you come over again Saturday Night, detective?"

"Why?"

"You are the detective. You figure it out." She stepped on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

Eric was surprised, but responded. He was blushing when he broke contact. "This is kind of a delicate area, Dr. Cross."

"Call me Megan."

"It looks bad if we seem to be using our position to make time with domestic assault victims."

"My sister was the victim, not me, detective."

"Good point. In which case, you had better call me Eric."

That Saturday, after dinner, they had kissed on the couch for ten minutes until Carmen had interrupted them when she came home early from a night out with friends. 

The next Friday, Carmen had gone to sleep early, and Megan led Eric into her bedroom.

Megan had let him remove her pants and touch her nether lips. He had stroked her thighs delicately until she finally parted them, and then he lubricated his index finger with her fluids and gently teased her labia and clit. He had started with small, light circles, growing larger and more firm as she began to respond. Within a couple minutes, she had been bucking her hips in the air and screaming her pleasure.

---

"Megan?" Eric's voice broke her out of her reverie. "What are you doing?"




Compromised



Megan suddenly noticed that her hands were up her skirt as she sat on the stool. Her left hand was pulling her panties to the side, and her right hand was circling her clit, just as she remembered Eric once doing. She felt embarrassed, and almost pulled her hands out from under her skirt, but she stopped herself.

Hadn't Eric said he fantasized about watching her pleasure herself? The idea had previously struck her as shameful, but now that Eric was actually watching her do it, she felt a flush of arousal. Her circling fingers found their passage eased by an increasing wetness in her panties.

"Megan?" Eric repeated.

She answered by way of smiling as she lifted up her skirt to give him a better view. She kicked herself again. She had worn sex panties yesterday when she thought they were going to make love, but since they had fought last night, she had opted for another pair of practical panties. Disgusted, she pulled them down and kicked them off her feet, then raised her skirt above her hips and sat back down.

Eric had stopped scrubbing, watching her with a mix of surprise and lust. She didn't want him to stop.

"No, Eric, keep washing the dishes. I like to watch your hands move, and imagine it's you touching me."

She saw Eric swallow and continue cleaning the dishes, but he watched her most of the time, only spot checking his work to see if more scrubbing was needed.

Each time he washed another dish, Megan felt another wave of pleasure shoot through her. Her vaginal lips got wetter (call it your pussy, a little voice told her), and she moved her hands faster, getting closer to direct contact with her clit.

Megan lifted her feet up to rest them on the counter. It not only presented her with a better angle, but also gave Eric a better view, and she wanted him to see. She wanted him to watch her finger herself while she thought of him.

She inserted the fingers of her left hand into her pussy, while her right hand now applied direct attention to her clit. Oh, God, this feels good. 

Eric finished up the last dish and he turned to focus all of his attention on her. That sent her libido up another notch, and she knew she was almost there. "Eric, watch me come. I am... going... to..." Her moans cut off her speech. She was frigging herself as hard as she could and felt her orgasm peak. She closed her eyes so tight she saw stars. 

Eric's voice penetrated the post-orgasmic fog. "Megan, that is the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

She opened her eyes again and the full realization of what she had just done crashed down on her. She was mortified. "Oh my God." Megan pulled her feet down from the counter, and not looking at Eric, she turned and ran into the bedroom, and then into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her.

What had she just done? Why had she done it? 

"Megan, what's wrong?" Eric was outside the door.

"I don't feel good. Can you leave me alone for a bit?"

She heard him curse under his breath. He had been asking her to do this for years, and when she finally performed for him, he couldn't follow up by fucking her. Instead, he was locked out of the bathroom. She was pretty sure she knew how he felt, and a sense of guilt rose within her. But her fear and shame, of the way her own mind and body had betrayed her, overwhelmed her guilt. She couldn't face him right now.

She heard the bedroom door close, and a few minutes later, she heard the TV turn on. Eric was taking his frustrations out on the Chicago Bulls.

This was the second time in as many days that she experienced a sexual response to Eric doing housework. Had Dr. Esmer done something to her? Had he turned her into some sort of freak?

Megan couldn't tell Eric. She knew him. If he even suspected, there was a good chance Esmer would be arrested, and the whole affair would be on the front page of the paper. She couldn't bear that, and she wasn't positive it had anything to do with Esmer or Eric's housework.

Maybe it was a coincidence? Eric had said at their session with Esmer that he wished she would do things like lap dances, and masturbate in front of him. She has explicitly said that both were on the table. Maybe her subconscious was just living up to the implied promise?

Tomorrow, she wouldn't let Eric do any housework, and that would be test, and give her more time to think.

Megan unlocked the bathroom and climbed into bed, re-playing today's events over in her mind. She felt more shame when she realized she found the memory erotic rather than disgusting. What was she turning into?

When Eric checked on her, she pretended to be asleep. 

---

Saturday

It was proving easy to prevent Eric from doing housework. She cleaned the breakfast dishes for him before he had a chance to do so, and preemptively did a load of his laundry. 

Eric tried to ask her about her behavior yesterday, but she sidestepped. "I wasn't feeling good. I don't want to talk about it." He didn't like that answer, but he didn't press the point. 

At lunch, Eric planted himself in front of the TV to watch college basketball. Megan knew she would be safe for the afternoon, and read a novel on her Kindle. She was trying to finish Stieg Larsson's trilogy, having liked the movie version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo when Eric took her in January. 

She wasn't liking the second book as much as the first, and was easily distracted when she heard Eric yell "fuck!" from the living room. She figured Purdue must be losing, and went back to reading.

In the back of her mind, she registered the sound of a vacuum cleaner starting up, but ignored it, determined to see how Lisbeth Salander was going to wreck revenge this time. She found herself licking her lips in anticipation.

No, it wasn't the book that made her lick her lips, she realized. Oh hell, Eric is vacuuming! She rose and hurried to the living room, and saw the forensic remains of a Dorito spill. Most of the contents of the bag seemed to have emptied on the floor. Eric had picked up the big pieces and placed them in a large bowl, but the white carpet was covered with Dorito detritus, which he was now sucking up with their Hoover.

Panic crossed her face as she realized her mouth was watering, and it wasn't for the chips.

Eric noticed her watching him, and shut off the vacuum cleaner. "Sorry, the Boilers made this great defensive play, and I stood up too quick. I'll get it."

"No, please, let me!" She knew where her salivation was leading, and she hoped she could cut it off with an early intervention.

"Nah, it's my mess. I will get it." He switched the vacuum back on.

The whirr of the vacuum cleaner was like an electric shock to the pleasure centers of her brain. Megan was mesmerized by the movement of the Hoover as it sucked up orange cheese powder and corn chip crumbs. She imagined the suction necessary to move the material through the base, up the tube, and into the canister. 

Her mouth was watering again, and she looked at Eric's crotch. What had Eric said once? Put a tongue in a vacuum cleaner tube and it would be a male sex toy? Would he really like her to suck him that hard? 

A voice in the back of her brain was yelling at her, telling her that this wasn't natural. This was like her striptease to Eric doing laundry, or her masturbation compulsion last night when Eric scrubbed the dishes.

But why did it matter if the impulse was natural. Eric loved getting oral sex, and one of his biggest complaints about their marriage was that he never got it any more. Why shouldn't he get it? Megan remembered that she used to love going down on him. She remembered how she used to even initiate it...

---

Eric had been recommending that Megan and Carmen take a self-defense class. He wouldn't come right out and say it, but Megan suspected that he thought Chris might try something before his plea hearing later in the month. She tried to draw it out of him.

"You never know what an asshole control freak boyfriend is going to do. But some of them have a pattern. Chris has done this shit before. He has two domestic assault convictions in 2004, another in 2007, and then in 2010 they ended up dropping felony charges on him when his girlfriend changed her mind on testifying. I think he has figured out that it's hard to make a charge stick without the girl's testimony, and the fucker is looking at hard time."

"He will try to intimidate Carmen?"

Eric shrugged. "It never hurts to be prepared."

"Is that why you kept coming over for dinner?"

"Sorta. I also thought Carmen's sister was hot."

When Megan approached Carmen with the idea, she resisted. "I hated school. This sounds too much like school."

Eric finally seemed to persuade her by offering a private session with just him, Carmen, and Megan at a precinct gym after hours. Megan had show up directly from work. Carmen never showed and wasn't answering her cell phone.

"Is she in trouble?" Eric looked worried.

"Unlikely. She was setting up some excuses and having second thoughts about coming. I don't think she believes self-defense is ladylike."

"Neither is getting beaten up."

"Why don't you give me a lesson?"

Eric assented and took her down to the gym. The biggest things he emphasized were keeping a low center of gravity in a fighting stance, and avoiding her male opponent's stronger arms. He taught her some techniques on breaking grips, throwing a heavier person off balance, and where to hit.

Megan liked it. She was barely over five feet tall and weighed less than a hundred pounds. It made her feel like she had some power, and wasn't doomed to be a victim if she was attacked. 

She also found it sexually exciting. Eric would practice some of the techniques by trying to grab her and having her fend him off. She liked the feel of his arms when he succeeded in holding her. He was strong and could lift her off the ground with little effort.

Finally, he came at her deliberately off-balance, to see if she could take advantage of it. She did, and pulled his arm to drag him across her leg like he had shown her, tripping him and sending him to the mat. She hadn't succeeded in breaking his grip, however, and he pulled her down on top of him.

Her head landed on his abdomen, and her breasts were pressed up against his groin. She could immediately tell that he was as aroused as she was. 

She held the position and kissed his stomach through his shirt. "Is anyone else in the building?" She asked, a half-smile crossing her face.

Eric ran his hand through her hair. His erection was nestled in the valley of her breasts, and she felt it twitch when he answered. "The building is dead between shift changes, unless they schedule training. Which they didn't."

Megan smiled. "Good." She tugged his sweatpants down over his erection, and took it into her mouth for the first time. 

---

The phantom taste of Eric's cock floated in Megan's memory -- it had been salty from their exertions in the gym. She wanted him again. 

Eric had finished vacuuming, and as soon as he shut the machine off, Megan shoved him back onto the couch, spread his legs, and knelt between them. 

"Whoa," was all Eric could say. 

She looked up at him, recalling the same half-smile she had shown him the first time she gave him head. "I was thinking of that self-defense training you gave me when we were first dating."

"I remember those. You always got turned on, and went down on me on the gym floor every Thursday for six weeks."

"Feel like re-living old times?"

The speed with which Eric reached for the remote control caused him to bobble it a few times before he could shut the TV off. Megan gave an open-mouthed smile and allowed Eric to see the way her tongue played across her teeth.

She remembered that Eric liked her looking at him, so she narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a sultry way while running her hands up his thighs. She touched the power of his leg muscles through the denim of his jeans, which caused her to feel an erotic jolt somewhere behind her belly button. She moaned.

"Oh, I am getting wet just thinking about what I am going to do to you." Her right hand undid his belt buckle while her left squeezed the hardness she could feel in his crotch. She liked how it throbbed in response to her touch, showing how much Eric wanted her.

"What are you going to do to me?" Eric asked.

"I think you know." She unzipped his fly and her hands could now feel the warmth of his erection through the cotton of his briefs. "I think you know, but you want me to say it." 

Eric arched his hips off the couch to allow her to pull down his jeans and briefs, giving her the access she wanted to his cock. "Yeah, I do like you to say it," he said.

"Then I will tell you." Megan leaned forward, placing her mouth closer to her goal. She made sure she held his eyes with hers as she spoke. "I am going to take this big cock of yours and put it my mouth. Your sexy wife is going to suck you off and make you come, just like she used to."

"That sounds like --" 

Megan cut him off mid-sentence by encircling the head of his cock with her lips. 

He was so hot in her mouth. She felt his cock give a few spasms of pleasure in response to her tongue, and she reveled in the power she had to make him feel this way. Megan swirled her tongue around his engorged flesh, enjoying the contrast of the soft tender skin with the steel hardness underneath. Her hands grasped the base of his shaft and balls, adding some extra squeezes in the way she remembered he liked.

Making a seal halfway down the base with her lips, she added some suction, and was rewarded by hearing Eric groan. 

She watched him extend his hands down to hold her face. His thumb traced the outline of her jaw and his fingers caressed her skin. Megan saw a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in two years -- the blissful look of a man being brought to heaven by the talents of the woman he loved. She realized that she had missed that look.

Why had she stopped giving him head, she wondered? She remembered that it had felt like a chore, doing nothing for her, and she hadn't really liked the idea of tasting his cum. She had always pulled away before he came, allowing his seed to shoot in the air, but she didn't even like the idea of tasting the lubricant that came out when he was getting warmed up.

Today was different. Today, going down on him was doing something for her. She felt turned on. She felt powerful. She felt loved. Today the taste didn't bother her. It's just protein. In fact, she actually liked it, knowing she was tasting his arousal for her.

Moans and increased thrusting of his hips toward her face told Megan that she had brought Eric to the verge of climax. She tightened the grip of her hand around his shaft. But instead of withdrawing her mouth and finishing him by hand like she used to do, Megan swirled her tongue faster, and let out her own moan, which she hoped he would feel in his cock.

"Oh God, Megan, I love how you do this. I am going to come!" Such a sweetheart -- he knew she didn't like it when he came in her mouth so he was warning her. But not today. She wanted to taste him. She squeezed his balls and shaft with her hands and gave the glans one last swirl, and she felt him spasm, followed by a hot stickiness spraying against the roof of her mouth. Megan swallowed his seed, and continued bathing his cock with her lips and tongue as he spurted more cum inside her mouth. 

Eric's face was an open book of blissful surprise. She had never swallowed him before. He ran his fingers through her hair as she waited for him to go flaccid in her mouth. Finally, she released her mouth's grip on his cock by spreading her lips in a broad smile.

"You approve?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear it.

"Oh God yes, that was incredible! What has gotten into you this week?"

It came back to her. She had been trying to prevent herself from having a sexual reaction when Eric did housework, and here it had happened again.

Watching the expression on Eric's face, however, it didn't bother her as much this time. She gave his cock a kiss and just returned his smile.

Sunday

The alarm went off at five in the morning. Oh fuck, Megan thought to herself, he has ice fishing today. She tried to go back to sleep while he puttered around the bedroom getting dressed, but then gave up.

"When will you be back?" 

Eric wore sweatpants to bed in the wintertime. She noticed with annoyance that he had thrown them on the floor.

"Probably late." He pulled on a fleece sweater. "Today is the twelfth."

"Yeah?"

"Happy Lincoln's Birthday. More importantly, Tuesday is Valentine's Day." 

"What did you have in mind?"

"I know you hate fighting restaurant crowds, so I figured we would stay in. I will cook you dinner."

"That sounds delightful."

"If you are feeling up to it."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You have been acting a little moody lately."

Is that what it looked like to him? She would swing from being annoyed at him to a slut in just minutes, and he thought she was "moody"? 

"We can talk about it later," she demurred. "Oh honey, can you put your sweats away before you go?"

He kicked them into the air with his foot, caught them, folded them, and put them on the shelf in his closet.

Good, Megan thought to herself. Everything in its proper place. She felt another pleasurable twinge hit her behind the belly button. She felt a slickness between her legs, and realized she was getting wet. 

Dammit, she thought, and decided to try to resist her feelings of arousal. She had liked the way Eric had reacted yesterday, and she had decided that she liked how more sexual excitement had returned to their relationship, but she wasn't sure she wanted a slavish response to Eric doing housework. She looked at the clock. His buddies were picking him up in five minutes. She just needed to hold out for a little while.

Eric walked out of the closet and did a scan of the bedroom. He evidently noticed a few other messes, and picked up a pair of his socks, and yesterday's underwear, throwing them in the laundry basket. He tucked a pair of his shoes under the bed. "Everything in it's proper place," he said, repeating one of her favorite mantras.

Megan found herself watching his crotch. I know the proper place for that, she thought. She clenched her thighs together, feeling more wetness. A flashback came to her mind of the greatest night of sex they had ever had. "Survival sex", Eric had called it. She shoved the memory back down. Not now.

Her nipples were stiff against the flannel of her pajamas. She wondered why a sexy woman like herself was wearing pajamas. Pajamas were for sleeping. She wasn't sleeping any more. She wanted sex, so she she should be dressed for sex. She clenched her thighs together, wanting her husband's cock. 

"Megan, are you OK?"

She pinched herself on the arm -- the pain helping her regain control. "I am fine." She remembered her psych classes, covering conditioning. She liked being sexy, but she didn't want to be one of Pavlov's dogs, salivating when they heard the dinner bell.

"I must have imagined it."

"What?"

"You used to have this look when we were dating. I had a name for it, but I haven't seen it for awhile."

"What look?"

Eric looked abashed. "I called it your fuck-me-now look." He shrugged. "Like I said, I must have imagined it."

Megan knew that if she spoke the only words she would be able to speak would be "fuck me now". She bit her lip instead. The memory jumped back to the surface. That's my girl, he had said -- words that won her heart.

Headlights cast shadows through the venetian blinds. Eric headed out the bedroom door. "The guys are here. See you tonight!"

After she heard the car drive off, Megan lay on her back, and let the memory come.




Compromised



---

Rice was boiling on the stove. Chicken, onions, garlic, peppers, and broccoli were chopped up on the cutting board. Eric had just left to pick up some wine to go with their stir-fry, when the knock came at the door.

Megan heard Carmen open the door, and spoke one word that sent a chill down Carmen's spine.

"Chris!"

Fuck, the stupid bitch opened the door without looking through the peephole..

"Carmen, we need to talk. You can't send me to prison."

Megan rounded the corner, and saw Chris with his arms on Carmen's shoulders. She was backed up against the wall, wide-eyed with terror.

"Get the fuck out of my house, now!" Megan spoke with finality, but Chris ignored her.

"Carmen, my lawyer says I am looking at at least five years in prison. I am not going to be someone's bitch for five years."

"Knowing you, you will be the bitcher, not the bitched." Megan's tongue sometimes moved faster than her wisdom.

Chris wheeled on her. "Stay the fuck out of this, you cunt. That cock sucking cop isn't here to protect you."

Shit, he had been waiting outside for Eric to leave. How long before Eric got back from the liquor store? Fifteen minutes?

Chris returned his attention to Carmen. "I mean it. I am not going to prison. You need to tell them that it was someone else, that you lied in order to get back at me for dumping a little whore like you."

Megan's hands were on her cell phone. 

The button beeps were loud enough to cause Chris to wheel on her again. She had been standing too close. He slapped the phone out of her hand. It shattered against the wall. 

Megan's wrist was screaming in pain from the blow. That's a break, she knew.

Carmen ran for the bathroom when his attention was on Megan. She locked the door before he could stop her.

Oh Carmen, you should have run outside and screamed. Megan's wrist was on fire.

Chris pounded on the bathroom door. "Carmen, open up!"

Megan knew the door lock wouldn't hold. But it might last long enough for her to call 911 from the land line, if Chris worked the door. She shuffled into the kitchen, toward the cordless phone.

"Where did you go!" She heard Chris yell, and heard loud footsteps coming toward her. Chris had recognized the threat of leaving her unattended. 

Terror welled up. She was in real danger. He couldn't get at Carmen with Megan running free, and he didn't have much time. He was going to have to knock her out... or worse.

Options...

Eric had given her pepper spray, but it was still in the plastic, useless. She mentally kicked herself. 

The chef's knife on the counter -- she had been using it to cut vegetables for stir fry. She had it in her hand just as Chris rounded the corner into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw what she was holding.

"Kitty found a claw."

She held the knife in front of her, and reached for the cordless phone. The kitchen counter was between them.

Chris reached for it as well, leaning across the counter. She slashed out with the knife, but he was expecting it. He had two good hands to her one. He brought his right hand down on her wrist, trapping her good hand against the counter.

She released the knife.

Chris let her go and picked up the weapon for himself.

dammitdammitdammit. She backed away. 

Chris maneuvered around the counter to get to her. "I've got your claw, little kitty. What were you planning to do with this?"

Megan felt heat against her back. She had retreated in front of the stove. She smelled the steaming rice, and thought of the saucepan, filled with water and starch at a temperature exceeding 212 degrees.

She grabbed the handle of the saucepan and threw it in Chris's face. The lid caromed off his forehead. Rice and hot water covered the left side of his face and dripped down onto his neck and shoulders. He roared with a volume that instinctively made her flinch. 

But he didn't drop the knife. He is going to kill me. His left eye was shut, but his right eye showed cold fury.

Chris came at her in a bull rush, holding the knife in front of him like a spear.

Megan remembered her practice with Eric. She ducked low, sidestepping him. She extended her leg in front of him and pushed him with her one good hand, adding to the momentum of his charge.

Chris tripped over her leg. He spun wildly as he fell, slashing with his knife rather than trying to break his fall. It was a poor choice, as it allowed his head to hit the corner of the doorway with a loud crack. Megan saw plaster fly.

Chris collapsed and lay still.

fucking bastard.

Megan let herself fall to the kitchen floor. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Med school lectures came back unbidden. She was still experiencing the fight-or-flight response brought on by the epinephrine rush. They used to call it adrenaline, she recalled for no clear reason. She held her broken wrist in her lap.

Megan looked at Chris's unconscious form. Blood was pooling underneath his head from a scalp wound. The burns on his face were bad. He was breathing, but had taken a nasty concussion. He needs a hospital, her inner doctor told her.

Megan heard someone at the front door. "Megan, why is the door open?"

"Eric." It was half call/half moan. She closed her eyes.

She felt and heard him come into the kitchen. He cursed and did a sharp intake of breath as he saw the scene.

She didn't open her eyes. She knew she would lose it if she did. She was not going to sob into the arms of the big strong cop. He hadn't won this fight. 

She had. 

"Are you OK?"

"Broken... wrist". She had to breath between each word. "Otherwise... fine. Call 911. Check... him. Carmen's...in bathroom."

Eric called in, gave his badge number, and asked for two ambulances and a couple squad cars. He stayed on the phone. At the same time, she heard Eric examine Chris. She heard the click of cuffs.

"Steady pulse, probable concussion, widespread second degree burns on face and neck." He relayed to the dispatcher. "Also have twenty eight year old woman with broken wrist." He paused, listening to the dispatcher. "No, I don't think I would use the word 'victim' for Megan."

She smiled at that. Damn right.

He settled next to her, putting his arm around her. I'm not going to sob.

She finally opened her eyes to look at him. He was beaming down at her -- his countenance showing not pity, but pride. "That's my girl." He whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. "That's my girl."

With a burst of love exploding in her heart, Megan leaned into his chest.

She didn't sob.

The sex that night when they returned from the hospital had been incredible, despite her being "an angel with a broken wing," in Eric's words. They had each told the other "I love you" for the first time.

---

Megan came out of her reverie. She lay alone in her bedroom, stewing in sexual frustration. She wanted Eric, and she somehow knew masturbation would just frustrate her further.

There was no way she was getting back to sleep, all hot and bothered. She rose, got dressed, and headed downstairs to make herself breakfast. By the time she had finished her bowl of granola, her arousal had diminished. She breathed a sigh of relief -- she was worried that she might be horny all day long.

Her heels clicked on the linoleum as she walked to put her cereal bowl in the dishwasher. Heels? Why am I wearing heels?

She stopped to assess her clothes. She was wearing a satin red cocktail dress that she had never dared to wear outside the dressing room, along with stockings and her only pair of three inch stiletto heels. Her undergarments felt funny, and she felt for them as well. Oh God. She was wearing a peekaboo black shelf bra that didn't even cover her nipples, along with her g-string, and a garter belt. Her stockings were thigh-highs. She was decked out in the lingerie that Eric thought was her sexiest, and she had done it without even realizing it. 

Well, what's the point of having clothes like this if not to wear them? Everything in its proper place.

Monday

Eric had arrived home the night before after she had already gone to bed, and she only saw him for a few minutes before he headed out to work earlier than usual. He was evidently planning on a long day. Which was fine with her. She had to work Saturday next weekend, so she had today off. She was waiting outside Esmer's building when he arrived shortly before 8AM.

"Dr. Fletcher?" He didn't seem surprised to see her, or concerned.

"Dr. Esmer, may I talk with you?" What are you a doctor of?

"Are you having an interesting week?" His smile was one of amused curiosity.

"What did you do to me?"

"What I was paid to do -- save your marriage."

"You hypnotized me without permission. That is a violation of medical ethics."

"You would know more about that than I would. Unlike you, I am not a doctor of medicine. I am a mere marriage counselor, which requires no licensing in this state. Hypnotherapy itself is not a recognized medical practice by most states, including Indiana, so I don't have to worry about any ethics beyond my own."

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"My doctorate was in the history of medicine. In researching the history of hypnotism I discovered I had a knack for it, and my career branched out."

"You are a fraud?" Her heart sank. They had reached his office, and she sat down in the chair opposite of his desk.

"It has been almost a week since our treatment. You really think my treatment was fraudulent? Surely you have seen it's effects by now?"

"You turned me into some sort of sexual slave."

"It's an odd sort of slavery when the master has to clean house for his slave."

"You didn't give us a choice."

"Yes I did, satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Are you requesting a refund?"

"What happens if I do?"

"Well, I obviously can't hand back $2000 and let the customer keep the product, so I will speak a post-hypnotic phrase that will permanently remove all of your conditioning."

Megan said nothing.

"Is that what you want, Dr. Fletcher?"

"Why didn't you tell us what you were doing."

"Too inefficient. No one believes me and I waste time convincing you. Then you argue over free will and identity for four weeks, and half the time the customers don't come back. My way is easier. You now know what I did, and can decide whether you want to keep it. So I repeat the question, what do you want, Dr. Fletcher?"

"What will this do to me? What if someone else cleans near me? What if Eric starts washing dishes when we are at a friend's house, and I... embarrass myself in public? What if we have kids, and one of them needs help and I can't respond because I have some sort of compulsion to have sex with my husband?"

"The conditioning only works in response to your husband's behavior, and has a much less potent impact while in the presence of others, or when some other powerful need is at hand. I daresay you would be able to control your urges when necessary."

Esmer reached into his desk, and pulled out an envelope. Megan noticed her own name written across the front. "This contains the phrase which will permanently remove your conditioning. You have until Wednesday to claim a refund, in which case I will read the phrase myself and then give you your money back. After Wednesday, the phrase in the envelope will still work, but I won't give you a refund."

"Why me?"

"Do you mean, why not your husband?"

Megan didn't like the question being phrased so bluntly, but she nodded.

"I could have conditioned him to clean every time you had sex, but based on your evidenced level of sexuality, I didn't think that would help. I was afraid you would be in divorce court without ever having sex again. I was paid to save your marriage, Mrs. Fletcher. You might not think much of my ethics right now, but I take my job very seriously."

"You had talked about marriage being a compromise. How is this a compromise?"

Dr. Esmer smiled broadly. "Dr. Fletcher, you and your husband are admirable people. I am familiar with your story. It made the front page a couple years ago, as you may recall. But you are also very strong-willed. Both of you. Compromise is not always easy for people like you. I don't think you know it when you see it. You should be familiar with the concept of doing the minimum intervention necessary. If you haven't noticed it already, your husband is being conditioned as much as you are. Just not through hypnosis and not by me."

---

"I take it you and Eric went to see him." Sandy was giving her an annoying smirk, but there was sympathy in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me what he would do?" They had gone to Esmer on Sandy's recommendation. 

"Because you wouldn't have gone."

"Shouldn't that have been my choice?"

"Didn't he give you an out? A way to reverse the conditioning?"

"Yes, but that isn't the point."

"Of course it's the point. You still have a choice, but now you know what the choice is."

Megan sat down on Sandy's couch. She was full of conflicting emotions: fear, arousal, anger, humiliation. "What did he do to you?"

"He saved my marriage by hypnotizing John."

Megan waited for Sandy to elaborate.

Sandy sighed. "John was spending us into bankruptcy with his collectibles obsession, and I had gained sixty pounds, which was killing our love life. Now, if I exercise for at least thirty minutes every day, John feels no interest in buying vintage movie memorabilia on eBay." Sandy sipped her coffee and turned in profile. "I have lost thirty pounds so far."

"You do look nice," Megan admitted. "But doesn't John feel like he has lost something?"

"John is happier than hell. We aren't in danger of losing the home, and our sex life has improved. I no longer want to divorce him. You are over-thinking this Megan."

Megan said nothing, but crossed her arms and chewed her lip.

Sandy elaborated. "I deal with contract law every day. One party wants X, another party wants Y, and the contract sets the terms. Everyone is better off. Marriage is a contract as well. From what you told me, you set an expectation of sex and didn't meet it. Eric set an expectation of housework and hasn't met it. Your choices are to walk away from the contract, live with the breech, or enforce the terms. All Esmer did was come up with a clever way to enforce the terms."

Megan furrowed her brow, less certain.

"Look at it this way. Are you happier? Is your marriage stronger?"

"I am not sure."

"Well, tomorrow is a perfect day to find out."

Valentine's Day

Megan felt a lump in her throat as her car turned into the driveway of her home. Lights were on in the house, indicating Eric was already there. 

Am I ready for this? She had already decided that this would be a romantic evening, of sorts. She was going to try it the way Dr. Esmer suggested. She would ask Eric to clean some dishes, or straighten out the shit he had undoubtedly left all over the floor of the bedroom, and the conditioning would kick in. They would have sex, and they would both be happy.

Then why do I feel like I am selling my soul?

She parked the car, and noticed her hands were shaking as she removed the key from the ignition. 

Oh, God.

She opened the door from the garage, and walked up the stairs toward the dining room.

Eric was waiting at the top. 

How long has he been here?

A motion of his hands drew her attention toward them. He was holding a red rose in his right, and a miniature dove chocolate bar in his left.

"Am I supposed to choose?"

"No, you get both."

She popped the chocolate in her mouth, and took the rose.

"I have dinner ready. Why don't you sit down?"

Two candles were lit on the table, and the rest of the lights were out. A small vase was sitting in front of her chair. A wine glass was waiting for her, filled with a red. She placed the rose inside the vase. "What's for dinner?"

"Each course is a surprise."

"Ooh, I get courses?"

"Of... a certainty."

She laughed, and noticed she was no longer nervous. The house was dim by candlelight, but she could see that it was clean. Eric had put away his morning mess rather than leaving it for her, and even the kitchen was already clean of most of the food preparation. 

Eric wouldn't have anything to clean to get her aroused, she realized. Why am I disappointed by that?

The first course was a yellowish soup that smelled of chicken and lemons. "Avgolemono," he said. "Greek chicken soup compromised of egg, lemons, and rice."

"Comprised."

"Isn't that what I said?"

She let it go. The soup had a creamy texture from whipped eggs, with the sour of the lemons perfectly balancing the salt of the chicken broth in a perfect marriage of tastes. Eric didn't cook very often, but he knew how. He had told her once that it was one of his favorite seduction techniques. He hadn't used it on her because they had spent almost all their dating time at her house, but he had insisted that it was one of the most reliable methods of getting into a woman's pants. Looks like he is right.

The second course was a steamed artichoke with a curry yogurt dipping sauce. They took turns removing a leaf. Megan remembered once telling Eric that artichokes were the sexiest food in the world. It was like taking off a piece of clothing. Watching Eric uses his mouth to remove the fragment of heart off of each leaf reminded her of what he looked like when he went down on her. Eventually the leaves were gone. Eric removed the choke with a spoon, exposing the heart. It had the soft pliable texture of lips or labia. She leaned across the table to feed most of the heart to Eric, before finishing off the last bite herself.

Eric said not a word, just looking at her in the dim candlelight. Megan respected the silence, and found herself getting aroused as they finished their appetizer. She wanted him now, and was certain this wasn't the work of Esmer's hypnotic conditioning.

Eric rose to get the entree out of the oven, and finally spoke. "You have been in an interesting romantic mood for the last week."

"Is that what you call it? Interesting?"

"Most of it has been very nice. You have surprised me a couple times, which is something you haven't done much in the last year."

Megan said nothing. 

"You aren't giving up. I like that about you. You never give up." He set the serving dish in front of her. 

It looked like tiny chunks of meat wrapped in leaves, skewered by a toothpick. "Marinated kebobs broiled in a basil leaf."

She tasted one. It was heaven. "What's the marinade?"

"Olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, garlic, thyme."

"I am having a food orgasm."

"The first of many tonight, we hope." He paused. "You have been trying to be nice to me all week, and I wanted to return the favor. I hope you are enjoying it."

"The whole meal is wonderful. You need to cook more."

Eric smiled at her.

"What did you have in mind after dinner?" She reached across the table to hold his hand.

"I thought we would remove to the bedroom."

She drew circles in his palm with her finger. "Take me there."

"You head up. I want to clean up these dishes first." He looked slightly disappointed.

Had he figured out the relationship between her sexuality this week and his housecleaning? She wasn't sure, and this was the first time all week she felt like having sex with him without any help from Esmer' conditioning. She wanted to see if she could keep it that way. "No, let it wait until after. I want you now." 

Eric's lip twitched, and he held out his hand. She took it and rose. He blew out the candles, and she followed him into the bedroom. She noticed with pleasure that it was clean. He had straightened up sometime earlier.




Compromised



Megan melted into his arms, appreciating the way his body contrasted with hers. He was much taller than she was and weighed almost twice as much. His curves were hard while hers were soft. But as she reached down to his groin to grasp his cock, she recognized that contrasts could fit together, like interlocking puzzle pieces, or his cock in her increasingly wet pussy.

"Everything in its proper place," she said, using his cock to pull him closer. "The proper place for this is inside me."

"My proper place is married to you. Yours is with me."

"Yes," she said, and meant it. Megan pushed him back onto the bed. "I want to warm you up first." She pulled his pants down, and gave a hungry kiss before kneeling on the floor and taking his cock in her mouth. 

She didn't feel the compulsion she had felt when he had vacuumed, but she enjoyed it just as much. She could tell by his response that he loved it. The physical sensations of a cock in her mouth still did little for her, but the knowledge of his pleasure was enough.

She licked the precum off of the tip and swallowed it down. Her lips moved from the glans to the base, with her tongue retracing the path back up. 

An idea struck her. She understood the mechanics of the gag reflex, and she decided to make an attempt to deep throat him. She took him into her mouth and positioned her neck at what she hoped was a good angle. When she felt the gag reflex start, she held his penis there, until the urge to gag subsided. She then withdrew his cock, and took it in her mouth again, just a little farther each time. After doing this enough times, she noticed that her lips had reached the base of his shaft.

"Oh my God, Megan, are you deep-throating me?"

He ought to be able to take my inability to answer as a yes. She swallowed, and heard him groan in response.

That's it, baby. That's how I can make you feel from my own choices.

"Megan, as incredible as this is. I don't want to come in your mouth today. You have been so sexy all week, but I haven't been able to actually make love to you. Please, let me love you."

She swallowed one more time, as he seemed to really like it, and withdrew his cock from her mouth. "Cool, I wasn't sure I would be able to do that."

"Come here." He pulled her close, and she spread her legs in order to straddle him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

For once, this week, she was pleased by her choice of clothes, and she hoped Eric would be as well.

She felt powerful hands move up along her legs, caressing the nylon of her stockings. Eric's hands slid under the hem of her skirt, and pushed it up, giving him full access. Megan pressed her groin against his in anticipation, rubbing his hardness against her wetness.

"Megan, what is this underwear you are barely wearing?" He pushed her back slightly in order to inspect. She had put on a red satin g-string this morning, just in case. The fabric had been uncomfortable, and gave her the urge to pull it out of her ass crack all morning, before she finally got used to it. 

Eric's fingers played with the opening to her pussy through the soft fabric. She mewled in response.

This was what she wanted. She realized why she had been so nervous when she had come home. She did still love him, but was afraid that the response to Esmer's conditioning would be a fraud. This was Valentine's Day, a day for real romance, not lust manufactured due to some automated response. It might help delay their breakup for a short time, but it wouldn't be real.

But this -- this was real. This was romance. This was love.

Megan reached down between her legs, and unsnapped the clasp holding the "g" to the string. Her panties parted, and she felt the slick steel of Eric's penis in direct contact with her labia majora. Stop thinking like a doctor. His cock is rubbing against my pussy, and I love it!

One quick circuitous thrust of her hips, and he was inside her. Yes!

Eric was unbuttoning his shirt, and she took the cue to lift her own top over her head. She immediately felt strong hands around her back, undoing her bra. She shrugged it aside, and Eric's hands were on her breasts. 

Pinch my nipples. I want to feel the strength in those fingers.

He kissed her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.

"Eric, I want you to pinch my tits. Tweak my nipples for me."

She moved her hips in an up-and-down circle, using her knees for leverage. The friction of Eric's cock parted her pussy walls, filling her up until she felt whole. The sensation of Eric pinching her nipples sent her close to the edge. He knew just how hard to squeeze where he didn't cause her pain.Yes!

"Make love to me. I love you. I have missed having you inside me. I love you, Eric. Sometimes I think you are the only person who can put up with me."

"On my more arrogant days, I know I am the only man good enough for you."

"How about on your less arrogant days?"

"Then I just suspect I am the only man good enough."

Megan's mouth opened in a smile. His lips were quickly on it. Her mouth was as hungry as his, and she flicked her tongue against his in a sensual dance that they hadn't performed in over a year.

She felt Eric's hips thrust up into her. He was getting close. 

Megan was already there. She panted her orgasm into Eric's mouth as she pressed her hips firmly against his, maximizing the depth of his penetration. She shifted her hips slightly so that her clit pressed against his pelvic bone, and her orgasm multiplied and extended.

Thrust met counter-thrust, and Eric groaned as he spent his seed inside her. His hands moved around to her lower back, pressing him in deeper while feeling her ass at the same time. He finally stopped thrusting.

"Megan? Happy Valentine's Day."

"You too, sweetie."

"You know why I wanted to go see Dr. Esmer, don't you?"

Is he confessing something?

"I love you. I fell in love with a feisty one, as my mom likes to say. I knew that about you when I married you. It's why I married you."

Megan decided it was time to come clean.

"Honey, don't get mad, but Esmer did something to me."

He looked away. "Yeah, I figured. Some sort of hypnosis or something. You respond sexually to housework, like vacuuming, or cooking like tonight. I am sorry. I'll go kick his ass tomorrow, but I didn't want to wreck Valentine's Day."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I figured it was hypnosis after the blow job thing a few days ago. I made sure I cleaned the house before you got home. But I didn't think of a cooking trigger. I didn't realize you would respond sexually to me cooking dinner."

Megan smiled, and squirmed her hips against his softening cock. "He didn't program a trigger to respond to cooking."

Eric's surprise was a joy to behold as he asked, "How do you know?" 

"I can tell. I get memory flashbacks, and can't control myself. This was real. This was my man making a fabulous dinner and making an effort to clean the house before I got home, just because he knew it would make me happy."

"So this was just you wanting me?"

"Exactly."

Eric made a half-smile that she recognized when he thought of something clever.

"What is it?"

"I should have realized. I am a cop, and it's the entire basis of law enforcement."

"What is?"

"Most people only choose to obey the law as long as everyone else is, and they see that the rules are being enforced somewhat fairly. That's what cops do. We keep the law mostly by making sure everyone knows it is being enforced. Almost everyone gets in line, and you only need to worry about a handful of sociopaths, addicts, and idiots."

"So we are giving each other what we wanted because we know there is enforcement going on?"

"Maybe. I cleaned up the house because you have made me happy this week. I wanted to do something nice for you."

Megan realized something. "So you knew I had these triggers in me, and you deliberately tried to avoid using them?"

"Well, yeah. I married Dr. Bitch, not some wet noodle. I didn't think you would forgive me if I stomped on your choices like that." 

She kissed him on the lips, feeling tears flow from her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I always loved that about you, that you loved me for who I was."

"Why else would I marry you?"

"I think you just earned a present."

"What's that?"

"Permission. You can go ahead and use the triggers if you want. I do want the house clean, and don't want you to only do your share when I am not around. Anyway, you just proved worthy of an incredible amount of trust. I know you won't abuse the triggers, but I hope you never feel like they are the only way we get to have sex. Hell, I always did find it sexy when you did housework."  I will throw away Esmer's envelope in the morning.

The sly smile returned to Eric's face.

"What is it now?"

"Haven't you noticed the pattern to Esmer's hypnosis?"

"What do you mean?"

"There is an ironic association between the trigger and the act. Vacuuming triggering oral sex. Laundry triggering a strip tease."

"Dishes triggering masturbation?"

"A bit tenuous, but scrubbing? Yeah, I see the connection."

Megan remembered how watching him put stuff away made her think of things being put in their proper place, including his cock in her pussy and sexy lingerie being used for sex. She knew he was right. "OK, why are you giving me that smile."

He looked at her with a grin of absolute mischief. "You are sure you are okay with me using your triggers?" His hands descended down her back, and squeezed her ass cheeks, pulling them apart.

"Yes, I already said so. Why?"

"Because I am not sure we have discovered all of the triggers."

Megan's eyes widened in surprise.

Eric's eyes danced. "I think I should clean the bathroom."

Megan felt her anal sphincter clench in anticipation. Oh no.

---

...And they lived happily ever after.

---

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Please vote and let me know what you thought.