Kevin's Sow Pt. 01: Selected

***AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you like my work, please comment. This is the first installment of a new series where a suburban housewife reluctantly acknowledges that she needs to look outside of her marriage to satisfy her lifelong craving to submit completely to a true dominant male.***

"I can always tell when a sow hasn't been used in a while," he said evenly.

I blinked.

"Excuse me?," I said.

It was 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. I was standing in my kitchen watching the plumber nose around under the sink. I was drinking a cup of coffee. The kids were at school. My husband was at work. We were alone in the house.

He poked his head out from under the sink and looked up at me smiling. I was conscious of the fact that from his current position, he might be able to see a little further up my skirt than was strictly proper in polite society.

"I said I can always tell when a valve hasn't been used in a while," he said. "It stiffens up, when it's not released properly on a regular basis."

"Oh," I said. "Well, you're right. We don't use the disposal all that often. It's supposed to be bad for the well or something, I think."

For some reason, my tone was apologetic. I had never met this man before this morning, but somehow I found myself trying to bend over backwards to please him. I had offered him coffee and even tried to engage him in polite conversation. I never did that with other tradesmen.

His name was Kevin Wilson and I was finding that he had an oddly magnetic personality. Although he was younger than me by at least ten years, he carried himself with an air of calm authority. He was tall and fit and handsome in a clean cut way. His most striking features were his piercing blue eyes.

He continued to smile up at me for a few seconds, then he shifted his gaze so he was staring directly at my crotch.

"How about you, Mrs. Hansen? When was the last time you had a proper release?"

This time there was no doubt about what he had said. His smile never wavered.

He stood up and leaned casually against the counter. He was openly grinning now, amused by the look of astonishment on my face.

"As I was saying, I can always tell when a sow hasn't been used for a while, and you have the stink of ages of ache on you."

I stood frozen in shock.

He continued speaking, his tone matter-of-fact. "Does your husband even know you're a sub?"

I finally found my voice and, with it, some measure of righteous indignation.

"What the hell are you talking about," I hissed. "Is this some kind of joke? If so, I don't think it's very funny at all. I would like you to leave now. Please tell me what I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything, Mrs. Hansen, but you owe yourself the truth," he said calmly.

"Please leave," I said again.

"Let me tell you about yourself, Mrs. Hansen. Your husband rarely fucks you and when he does you don't come. The only time you have an orgasm is when you masturbate and think about being taken against your will."

"Oh my God, you're insane." I started backing away.

He remained standing and held up his hands in front of him, palms out. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Hansen, I would never touch you without your consent. In fact, you are going to have to beg me to let you serve me."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"I see through you, Mrs. Hansen. All your life you've had these dark, submissive impulses, but you've never acted them, have you dear? You're such a good girl, right? You suppress these desires because you're afraid of what other people would think if they knew how you really felt. But the feelings never go away, do they?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You try to get by with your online stories and diddling yourself in the dark. Maybe you watch a little BDSM on your computer, but you never can really quite scratch that itch, can you, Mrs. Hansen?"

I said nothing.

"That's because down deep inside yourself we both know you really want to be trained as a slave and used like a whore."

"Please leave now or I will call the police," I said.

"That's what I do, Mrs. Hansen. I take married, secretly submissive sows like you and use them like whores. Nothing complicated. No strings attached. I'm not looking to blow up anyone's vanilla world. I just give women like you a taste of what they really want."

"I've had enough of this," I said.

I walked past him in to the foyer and pulled open the front door. He picked up his tool box and followed me with casual nonchalance.

At the threshold, he stopped to and looked at me appraisingly.

"I can always spot a true submissive, Mrs. Hansen. The frustrated ones are even easier to pick out, like your cute little neighbor across the street."

I froze.

"Karen?" I was shocked.

"All my sows are named cunt, Mrs. Hansen. Makes it easier for me to remember their names," he chuckled.

Reflexively, I looked over his shoulder at my neighbor's house across the street.

"I don't believe you. I've known Karen for years, she would never do anything like that."

"I've owned her for about a year now. She's been begging me to capture you for months now. She knows what you are, Mrs. Hansen. To be honest, I think she wants a little taste of that pussy of yours."

I gaped at him openly.

"Karen's not gay," I protested.

"She is what I tell her to be. I share her with men and women. She's become quite the accomplished pussy licker, I'm told. Last week I had her go down on a waitress in lieu of a tip. Nice college girl, but a hopeless lesbian. She was thrilled."

My head was spinning. I felt like I was going to faint. This couldn't be happening.

"I don't believe a word of it," I sputtered. "I think you're a sick man and you are making the whole thing up."

"Wanna see?" he asked.

He picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Good morning, cunt. I'll be over in five minutes. I better be able to see you in the window when I pull in the driveway. I want you blindfolded."

He hung up the phone.

I continued to look at him, my mouth agape.

"Relax, it's not a big deal. The house is set so far back from the street that nobody can actually see her in there unless they are looking right at the window with a pair of binoculars. Just a way to get her juices flowing. She gets off on being humiliated."

"I don't believe you," I said hoarsely.

"Do you have a pair of binoculars, Mrs. Hansen?" he asked archly.

I put my hand on the door knob and gestured for him to leave.

"Good day, sir. I shall not be seeing you again, I'm sure."

He turned to leave and then paused on the landing.

"And don't worry. I won't tell Karen that you know her little secret unless you decide to serve me as well. Wouldn't want things to get awkward between friends," he said smiling.

He handed me his card with an oddly courtly flourish.

"No charge for today, Mrs. Hansen. If you call me again, make sure the front door is unlocked when I arrive. I'll expect to find you naked on your knees." He winked.

I slammed the door shut in his face.

I stood with my back against the door. My heart was pounding. I was breathing heavily through my mouth. I looked down at the card in my hand. My mind was racing.

Slowly things began to fall horribly in to place. I remembered that it was my neighbor Karen who had recommended this new plumber to me. And was it my imagination or hadn't she smiled kind of strangely when she handed me his card? I felt suddenly cold.

It can't be true I thought. Karen was just like me. We were both 42 year-old happily married soccer moms. We looked like sisters. We joked that we were both MILFs. We worked out together all the time. We were normal. She couldn't be some kind of a sex slave to a fucking plumber. She couldn't possibly be trying to set me up to join her, could she?

I was conscious that the clock was ticking. Five minutes, he had said.

I ran to the hall closet and rummaged around on the shelf until I found what I was looking for. Several years ago, my husband had decided that bird-watching would be a great family activity. The idea had lasted about ten seconds, but the Zeiss binoculars remained.

As if in a trance, I walked to the front window and raised the binoculars to my eyes. I focused on the big bay window across the street. This is all bullshit, I thought.

I gasped.

These were powerful binoculars.

From my vantage point, I could easily see my friend and fellow suburban housewife and PTA mom kneeling naked in the middle of her living room. Her hands were laced firmly behind her head. She was blindfolded. She wore a thick, black leather collar around her neck.

Her back was straight and she was thrusting her full breasts forward, as if on display. Her knees were held wide apart so that I could clearly see her shaved sex.

I could not look away. I felt like I was spying, but I couldn't stop. I could hear my own pulse in my ears.

She didn't move. She just knelt there. Waiting. She appeared to be trembling slightly.

I realized my own pussy was tingling.

I continued to watch my friend, holding the binoculars in my left hand. As if of its own accord, I felt my right hand reach down. I slipped my fingers beneath my skirt and in to the waist band of my panties.

I had never been so wet in my life. My clit was swollen and firm as I flicked it with my index finger. I slipped two fingers inside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a van enter Karen's driveway. I heard a door slam.

I lowered the binoculars and looked at the front of her house. In a moment, I saw the familiar form of the plumber casually walking up her driveway to her front door. He carried his toolbox with an easy grace. He paused on the front porch, as if he were going to ring the bell, but I knew he wouldn't. Instead, he twisted the knob and let himself in.

Placing the binoculars back to my eyes, I refocused them on the bay window. On Karen. I continued to fuck myself. I was close.

She had not moved.

In a moment, the plumber appeared behind her. He walked up and casually patted her on the head. Briefly, he cupped both of her breasts in his hands from behind as if weighing them. Or maybe he was showing them to me, I thought. Then, he reached down with his right hand and fondled her pussy lewdly for full minute before holding his fingers up to her mouth.

As Karen licked his fingers clean, the plumber turned his gaze toward me. Our eyes locked through the binoculars.

I noticed he was smiling.

There were wet sounds coming from between my legs as I continued to work my fingers in and out of my sopping pussy. I realized I was moaning.

In the stillness, my voice sounded husky and oddly plaintive.

My eyes stayed locked on the face of the man who would be my master.

"How..did...you...know?" I grunted as I came and came and came.

To be continued...