Lena's New Life Ch. 01

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first erotic series I ever wrote, back in 2005-7, long before posting my first story. I have revised and edited (hopefully well) the chapters, but they are pretty much as they were when I wrote them. It is the story of a married couple in love and exploring a new version of their relationship. It is a fairly long series, although some of the chapters are quite short.

I will publish the first few chapters close together, to get the series started, because the hot stuff starts a little later.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Destructive, insulting comments, moralist preaching and violent impulses are not.

When John came home that night to tell Lena that they had actually won the Lottery, they understandably got caught up, first in celebrating, then in some initial planning. Their elation carried them late into the night, talking and planning, recalling past wishes, sorting out the real from the silly, the possible from the ridiculous. It wasn't until they were in bed, still thrilled, that he reminded his wife of one of their discussions.

They had played the State Lottery inconsistently through the ten years of marriage. And now they had won, a big jackpot; and on a ticket that John had bought; a quick pick ticket that would yield more than a twenty million lump sum, they had figured. They were set for life – not if they spent like trash, but if they lived a little at first, they could live comfortably without working for the rest of their lives. They had no children, and were not inclined to start.

Sometimes they had picked numbers together, but usually individually, and Lena played more than John. She would light up with imagination every time she played. She would express her dreams of quitting their jobs, of early retirement; she would relate fanciful stories of pulling up to work in a limo to resign, of instant faraway vacations to exotic places, of setting up her parents and hiding the money from his family. They had joked and traded stories about what they would do if they won, hoping but not expecting the dream to come true.

"Remember what you always said you were going to do if YOU won?" She looked at him in the half-dark room, searching his eyes for a clue. They had discussed so many things. She had no idea what he was referring to. She saw the grin on his face then, and knew instantly what he meant. Her favorite dream.

"Sex slave," she said. "If I won, we would quit our jobs, and I was going to make you my sex slave."

"But you didn't win," John told her. "I won." He was grinning, but she wasn't. "What should I do?" he teased. He rolled onto his back and she cuddled at his side, his arm around her, holding her close, her head nestled into his shoulder, her faced angled up, trying to read his expression in the dim light. "All those times you said that to me, but you didn't win." He looked down to face her. "What do you think I should do? What would be fair?"

"Oh, so it's all YOUR money?"

"Of course not; just as it wouldn't have been all yours if YOU won. But you always said that if you won, you were going to make me your sex slave. And since I won," he pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head, "I think I am going to make YOU into MY sex slave."

He felt her tense, and hugged her. His free hand went to her face and turned her chin back up to face him. "Relax," he said, "Whatever you're thinking, it's not like that. I have no idea what you thought YOU would have done with me as your slave." He chuckled. "Maybe that's why you're nervous. But take it easy, sweetie. I'm not going to sell you, or make you do horrible things, or hurt you." He let her head go, and relaxed himself, his head sinking back into the pillow, closing his eyes after the long, exciting day. He could sense her staring at him. "You'll have to trust me," he whispered into the dark. "But of course, if I tell you to, you'll have to. You'll have to do anything I tell you." He sighed and hugged her. "We'll talk more about how this will work in the morning." He pretended to sleep, but his brain was turning, working, scheming.

*

When she woke the next morning he was already out of bed. She found him in the kitchen. He offered her a cup of coffee, and kissed her good morning. They exchanged some small talk, and then he set his cup down.

"I think I've got it mostly figured out" he started.

"You mean..."

"Yeah, the slave thing," he grinned. "You remember our talk last night." He recapped in a silly voice, "I was gonna be yours, but you are gonna be mine." He grinned, but she didn't return it, and he became more serious. "Here's what I figured out." He stood up and picked up an index card.

"One." He paused, looked at her. "Don't be scared. Remember, it's not what you think. This is about having fun, about sex, not about ownership." He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Just hear me out, okay?" He gave a comforting, easy smile, the one that always told her that everything was okay. "All right?" She nodded.

"So, number One. As the slave, you have to do whatever I tell you to do. As the master, I have a responsibility to take care of you, and never injure you, and I can't tell you to hurt yourself, or someone else, and I can't tell you to do something that could get you arrested, or anything." He looked at her. "OK so far?"

"Keep going."

"OK. Two. As the slave, you are to be obedient. If I say to do something, you can't argue. You have to do it."

"But-"

"You're a slave, remember? And remember Number One." He waited patiently, until she nodded.

"Three. Slave status is not permanent, but it can only be called up by me, or called off by me. When I say 'Slave, your Slave status begins. When I say 'Free' you are no longer bound by the slave rules. Also, during Slave status, I may give you temporary permission to act as though you are not a slave. If I say 'Normal' while Slave status is in effect, you may speak and act freely, but know that you are not." He waited for a reaction from her, but there was none.

"Do you understand these three rules of the Sex Slave?" He waited while she considered, her mouth slightly open. He watched her, and was reminded of all the things that had attracted him to her – her beauty (though she claimed to not believe that, and that was part of her beauty, too), her spirit, her straightforward approach and lack of guile. He knew there would be at least one question.

"You know I was joking when I said that. I never would have made you my sex slave," she said with a nervous smile.

"Oh, I think you would have, and I think you know that I would have willingly agreed," he smiled back. He took her hand again, and held it. "Now, it's probably true that as the master of a sex slave, you might not have taken full advantage of your position." She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "And we both know that my imagination, when it comes to sex, is a little more, uh, broad than yours."

"Really." She deadpanned. "No shit."

They sat there, silent for a few minutes; he could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. Finally she asked, "I don't understand the difference between 'Normal' and 'Freedom'. Aren't they the same?"

"No, and it is 'Normal' and 'Free'. The difference is that when I say 'Normal' you may behave as though you are not a slave, but must continue under the recent slave commands."

"I don't get it."

"OK, let's say we are at a resort, enjoying OUR new wealth. And in the morning I give the slave command, and tell you to shave your pussy, and put on a short skirt with no panties. If we go out to lunch, and I call 'normal', you can behave and act normally in public. But you DO have to leave the panties off. If I said 'Free', you could put on panties when we went to lunch. See?"

"Uhm-"

"Or if we are having sex under Slave command, and the phone rings. If I tell you it's OK to answer it and say 'Free' you can stop fucking me. If I tell you to answer it with 'Normal' you have to keep fucking while you answer it.

"Oh. That's – uhm, yeah. I think I see it now.

"So? What do you think?" He paused. "Do you trust me?"

"Well, I think I understand better now." She paused, a puzzled look on her face, as she sipped her coffee. "It's pretty different from what I was talking about."

"Well, we never really discussed what you had in mind when you were going to make me your Sex Slave," he agreed, sitting back down at the table next to her. He took her coffee cup, and set it on the table, then turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. "When you first said it to me, do you remember what I said?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. You said, 'I'm up for it. Anytime'," she grinned a little, nervously. "But that was all make-believe," she added. "It was just talk. I never dreamed ..."

"It wasn't make-believe. It was teasing, and fantasy, and you know it. If you had won, I would have willingly been your sex salve under any circumstances or rules you set. Because I trust you." He lifted her hands, kissing her fingertips. "And I love you," kissing them again, "and I am so hot for you."

"I love you, too," she laughed, "but ..."

"But you don't trust me?"

"I do trust you, I –" she struggled for the words, "I just don't know, you know, what you'll tell me to do." She looked down a second, then back up at him. "I know that you have a wilder sexual Imagination than I do," she said, "and I don't know how far – I don't know what'll happen, how I'll react. I don't know if I can go through with it"

"Well, I can't force you to be my Sex Salve, you have to be willing – no, actually, you have to WANT to do it." He took her hands again. "I can't force you, or coerce you. It's not something you can just go along with. I don't want your compliance. I need to have your commitment, to willingly and enthusiastically comply with the rules. So," he paused, "do you trust me?"

"I trust you, of course I trust you," she explained. "I just don't know if I can go along with, uh, complete sexual obedience. It's ..." she searched for a word, "scary? That's not right. I'm not afraid." She leaned towards him, now holding his hands. "But I'm really nervous. I've never done anything like this, and-"

"Sure you have."

"No. No, I haven't"

'Yeah, you just don't see it as the same. When we have sex, and I say 'I want you to do such-and-such, you do it. Right?" He chuckled. "Sure, sometimes I have to ask a few times, but eventually, you do it." She nodded. "Some things you like more than others, but overall they're usually fun and exciting, right?"

She nodded again. "Yes, but –"

"So, while we sometimes discuss new stuff first, you eventually agree that we're going to do it, right?"

"Well, yeah, but –"

"And it always turns out fun, and we always do it again. This is the same. Only now, instead of discussing first, and agreeing to do it one thing at a time, you'd be agreeing up front to let me choose."

"And that's the part that makes me nervous!" she blurted. "I don't know what it will be, and I have to agree up front. What if you –"

"Make you do something new that you don't like? Or that you think is disgusting?" He watched her face show her agreement. "Or if I make you do something new that you think is too slutty, or something new that – is what? Too weird? Too unusual?" He paused. "Too sexy? Too erotic? Too new?" He grinned. "Too much fun?"

She hesitantly smiled, but more out of embarrassment than elation.

"Of course there is some risk on your part that some of the things I'll tell you to do will not be fully to your liking. But that is part of the excitement as well; the danger, the unknown. We've always wanted a more exciting, adventurous sex life; more spontaneous, more, um, exploration. But regular life always got in the way. But now, our new wealth has taken care of all that and gotten it out of our way." They had decided the day before that they could both quit their jobs. John would pursue his carpentry hobby, possibly for hire, and Lena would be able to get involved in volunteer work. "This is your chance at your dream sex life."

"To YOUR dream sex life, you mean!"

"To Ours."

"As long as I submit to your commands."

"Only where sex is concerned. In all other things, we'll be just the way we've always been. And you know." He stopped, and turned to her, to make sure that he had her full attention. "And you KNOW that I would never do anything to jeopardize Us, what we have."

"I'd kill you if you did."

"You wouldn't have to, I'd kill myself. You mean too much to me to do anything so stupid."

"I'd bring you back to life and kill you again."

"I'll bet you would."

"You KNOW I would." There was a pause, then. Each waited, both knowing that agreement on this point was a step towards full agreement. Each was afraid to speak; he, for fear of turning it back again, and she for fear of going forward. They looked at each other, waiting. Then, finally ...

"Well, I guess," she started, and she knew that she would do it. And part of her, a part she never knew, was eager to start.

"Well, you guess what?" he asked, trying very hard not to appear too anxious.

She was turning over potential outcomes in her mind, trying to visualize how this might turn out, what would become of her, of them. She knew, deep down, that her fears of actual BAD things happening were slightly hysterical. This was just sex, not life. He wasn't going to have her murdering people for thrills. It was only about sex, and he was right, they had always enjoyed when they tried new things, and they WERE almost always his idea, but hey, the sex was great, it stayed fresh and interesting. It was part of what kept their relationship alive, she knew. She didn't know how much sex would be involved, but again, he was right. It had always been work, and money, and daily details that kept them from having more sex. With his – THEIR – winnings, those daily distractions would be gone. When they were on vacations they certainly had a lot more sex, and a lot more fun HAVING sex. This could turn out like a long, fun, sex-filled horny vacation. Still...

What if he makes me do ... what? She thought. Do what? What is it I'm afraid of? Swallow? Not my favorite, but I can tolerate it. Anal? We've never gone there, but plenty of people do, and he would NEVER hurt me. Well, sometimes he sucks my nipples until they hurt, but that's a good hurt, not an 'injury' hurt, she thought.

So if he won't hurt me, and we're going to have lots of exciting sex, and - she realized there was no other 'and' – there was only more, new and exciting sex, a little fear of the unknown, and the sudden knowledge that she had talked herself into it.

She felt a tingle and thought, my pussy says yes ...

"OK," she started, and took a deep breath before continuing. The thought of hot sex was really getting to her, and it was a little distracting. "OK. Just so I get it straight." She was really nervous, and she knew that he could see it. "If you say 'Slave Time-"

"Slave. "

"If you say 'Slave' I have to do whatever you say about sex without arguing. And it's only about sex." She waited, "Right?"

"Right so far."

"If you say 'Freedon' - no – 'Free', if you say 'Free', then I stop being a slave. A sex slave. Your sex slave"

"Right."

"And if you say 'Normal' I am still your sex slave, and have to continue obeying your command, but can act like I'm, uh, regular. Free."

"Correct." She examined his face, seeing – what? Eagerness? Anticipation? She considered her position again. Could she really agree to this? Could she go along with this crazy scheme? The fact was that her comment about making him HER sex slave had been half a joke, but, she admitted, only half. She'd have made him do some stuff. Her plans weren't this organized, but she would have made him obey her, do things for her, TO her. He was just better at being in charge, sexually. But thoughts of what she would have had him do jumbled into her head with ideas of what he would have HER do, and her pussy reacted. She felt herself getting wet.

"Well," she said, heaving a sigh, and sitting back in her chair. The tingle between her legs increased. "I guess that I can go along with that."

"No." he said.

"No? I thought this was what you wanted?"

"Oh, it is, but no, you can't just 'go along'. You have to be committed to it. It's like when you wanted to make me your slave. I was all in, no matter what, no questions asked, willingly, WANTING to be your slave. This can't be for just one of us; it has to be for both of us."

"OK, I agree. To be your Sex Slave. I agree to be your Sex Slave, now let's go have some sex!" She reached for him, grabbed his arm and stood up, but he did not get out of his chair.

"No, not agree. WANT."

Jeez, Louise, she thought, he was being difficult! Didn't he know she was getting hot and steamy here? Still holding his arm, she reached down for the other one, and slowly pulled him to his feet. She stood up in front of him, pressing her body against his, making sure she got her tits and hips rubbing against his. "Yes, OK sweetie, I WANT to be your Sex Slave." She stood up on her toes to kiss him.

"I accept your offer," he whispered as their lips met, and kissed. She felt his excitement building then; the kiss started like a love kiss, but turned to a passionate horny kiss quickly. She felt his arms around her, pulling her closer, felt his mouth open slightly, his tongue exploring, and finding hers. Her hands were between them, on his chest, on his shoulders, then on his face as they kissed. His hands were on her back, around her waist, then one was grabbing her ass, pulling her tighter into him. She felt the hard bulge in his pants, and ground herself against it, slowly, gently first; then harder, building the pressure. She felt his hardness against her pussy, and she wanted it inside her. She broke the kiss.

"Let's go in the bedroom." She turned to go, but he pulled her back.

"No. Let's do it right here."

"In the kitchen? What, on the floor?"

"No, sit up on the table, on the edge. I want to fuck you right here."

"Really?" Of all the rooms, they had never really done it in the kitchen. They started there sometimes, but usually moved to another room to finish. "But-"

"You aren't going to make me use my Slave Command so soon, are you?" His hand went to her sex, and he felt her heat and moisture through her panties. She squirmed at the touch. "Or maybe we should test your commitment." He stepped back from her, and sat back down in his chair. "We'll go easy." He said. "Slave."

She stood in front of him, and was caught off guard by the illicit thrill she felt at the word. She would do whatever he said; she had committed. She had no idea what it would be, but she felt a liberating release from responsibility, a relief from judgment and value, and it tantalized her. Her pussy tingled, and she felt the excitement build in her chest, like a slow-burning fire. Her nipples hardened.

"Yes," she squeaked, "I'm ready. Command me," she said, adding, "Master."

"M-mm, nice touch, slave, I like it." He looked her up and down. She was wearing only her sleep tee shirt and panties, her hair tousled from sleep. Her hands played nervously at her sides. "Take off your panties, slave."

Another thrill ran through her as her fingers slipped up under her tee shirt and into the elastic at her hips, pulling them down. "Slowly," he added, "and look at me while you do it." Her pussy pulsed and she felt some of her wetness escape her. Why was this exciting, she thought, and then didn't care as she slowly lowered her panties watching his face, seeing his eyes follow her underwear as she exposed herself. He'd seen her naked so many times, but this felt so different, so... what? Dirty? Kinky? She pushed as far as she could reach, feeling the air on her wet lips, and bent to push them past her knees, watching his face. She lifted each leg to slip them past her feet.