A Craving for Control

"Bethany, can you thank Jessica for her remarkable show?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Th-thank you, Jessica," I said. "That was--"

Before I realized what was happening she strode up to me and cupped my cheeks to give me a sizzling, tongue-filled kiss--my first from another woman. I was stunned. I was aroused. My nipples were tight and my kitty was throbbing. My hands were wondering how her small breasts would feel when she abruptly pulled away.

"You're welcome," she said happily, then turned and bounced out of the room. The scarlet marks on her upper thighs were plainly visible below the hem of her plaid skirt.

As soon as the door closed behind Jessica, Ben came to me. He raised his finger to my mouth, caressing my lower lip. I don't know why my mouth opened automatically and he pushed his finger in. The tart taste of Jessica's pleasure was nothing like a man. My pussy tingled as fresh dew trickled between my own lips. It occurred to me that maybe I had missed out on a few other experiences.

"What do you think, Bethany?" Ben asked. "Please be honest. Can you see a riding crop in your future?"

"Yes," I said. "I think I'd like to try it sometime." I still wasn't sure if I was as strong as Jessica had been.

"Very well," he said, obviously pleased. "Stand here."

"Wait! What? You mean, now?"

"No better time than the present to begin your exploration," he said.

"But...but... I can't...I mean..."

"One hit?" he said.

One hit...

Then I would know.

"Just one?" I asked. "Really? I mean, you're not going to--"

A dark cloud came over his face. "I thought we were clear on that, Bethany. This is all about trust. I will never lie to you and I won't hide anything that you need to know. I'll expect no less from you."

Chastened, I hung my head. "Yes, sir."

He smiled at my words, then pointed his toe where he wanted me--exactly where Jessica had been.

"Stand here, please," he said. When I was in place, he said, "Lean forward, hands on the window sill. Don't move your feet unless I tell you."

I had to practically fall to get into position. Ben stood next to me, his hands on my breastbone right between my girls to support me. His touch was firm and gentle. I felt his thumb pressing into the soft flesh but there was no sign he was trying to cop a feel.

Not that I would have objected.

I was surprised that I didn't react when he reached under my skirt, working my panties down my legs to my knees. No other man had come so close to my most intimate places since I married Charlie.

Ben slapped my inner thighs.

"Ow!" I said, jerking my leg to the side. That stung like crazy.

He laughed softly. "Low pain threshold, eh? Don't worry. We'll fix that soon enough."

Oh, shit. What had I gotten myself into?

He slapped my chunky thighs a couple more times until my legs were spread as wide as they could go. I didn't complain any more. It was...stimulating. I was praying my kitty wouldn't embarrass me by dripping on the floor.

When he lifted my knee-length skirt, Ben exclaimed, "What an absolutely lovely ass you have, Bethany!"

My heart flipped! He liked my big butt!

When he squeezed my buns it felt like he was pressing a bulb to squirt oil into my cunny.

"So pretty and white," he said. His voice sounded reverent. "Nice and bouncy. Just the way I like 'em."

"Is this...I mean, do you do this sort of thing a lot?" I asked.

"I told you I wouldn't lie, Bethany. However, I do know how to keep secrets. I think you would rather I keep this our little secret, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," I said.

"I thought so. Your husband probably wouldn't want to know where you are or what you're doing."

How did he...? I gasped. Fuck, my wedding ring, of course.

"How many do you think you can handle?" he asked.

"One! Just one." Then I remembered the red line I saw on Jessica's thighs. "On my...my bottom. Not visible. Just one."

"Five would be better. Trust me, even five little taps would really get you cranked up for your husband."

"No. Just one. That's all."

"One," he repeated with a disappointed sigh. "Very well. I suppose we shall have to make the best of that one, eh?"

Oh, shit.

Ben said, "Are you ready?"

I tensed. Hell no, I wasn't ready. I wasn't sure what I was even doing here.

"Yes."

I flinched when I felt his hand stroking my butt.

"You should relax, Bethany. Don't worry. Think of it like a shot from the doctor that's going to make you feel all better."

"Relax. Yeah, okay..." I said.

"Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and let the air flow out between your lips slowly while you think of soft, fluffy, white clouds." His voice was calm and soothing.

I did as he said. The odd position made it feel like some of the yoga classes I'd tried during my first pregnancy.

"Are you still ready?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I'm still--"

I heard it before I felt it. The whistle, the loud thwack. I shrieked as my buns ignited in scalding pain. It felt like a bolt of lightning ripping across my skin.

"Ow! Fuck!" I cried out as the burn began to spread. Tears were instantly streaming down my cheeks.

Ben's hand felt cool, stroking my bottom. Laying his forearm across my chest, he helped me upright again. He was still caressing my sore fanny, standing with his chest against my arm, his mouth near my ear.

"That's my girl," he whispered. "It's all over except the good part."

"The...the good part?" I sniffled.

"Your body is reacting to the pain," he whispered, his soft fingertips rubbing circles on my butt. "Endorphins are flooding your veins, racing to quiet the pain receptors. Blood is rushing to the injury. Your wonderful body works in funny ways, however. Some of that blood is pouring into your hot little pussy. Do you feel it?"

His hand pushed into the gap between my legs. I bowed them out further, then drew a sharp breath when I felt his fingers on my lower lips, only the second man in over seven years. My kitty was on fire. I couldn't stop myself. I moaned and pushed myself against his finger when it stroked along my gash.

"You're so wet, Bethany. You want to come, don't you?"

"Please..." I begged, rocking my hips against his finger.

"That's the power of the crop," he said softly. "I call it a desire amplifier."

His finger crept closer to my clit. I knew that if he would only touch it, I would explode.

His warm breath tickled the hair on my neck. "I'll bet what your pussy really wants is a hard cock."

"Ohgod!" I whimpered. My hand searched the front of his khakis for a hard bulge.

He pushed my hand away. "Only strong, confident women get my cock. Brave sluts who know how much they need a whipping sometimes."

"I'll do it!" I said. It wasn't that bad, I'd decided. I was desperate to be fucked. "Five. Go ahead. I...I'll do five."

Only if I got his cock afterward.

"I promise you'll get all you can handle the next time we meet," he said, and I groaned. "Right now, I want you to show me how much more beautiful you are when you come."

I whimpered again. He said I was beautiful.

Then he said, "You have to wait until I tell you when you can let go. Will you do that for me?"

"I...I don't know if...Ohgod!"

His finger was on my clit, slowly moving up and down each side, then a few circles over the top.

"Don't come yet, Bethany," he warned.

"Please...!" I begged, tightening my abs and desperately trying to resist the sensations that were swirling deep in my cunny.

His other hand covered my clothed breast, kneading it. "You're being such a good girl. I can't wait to taste your hot little pussy."

"Yes! Yes!" I cried out, clutching his hand on my chest, urging him to squeeze tighter.

"Are you ready to come for me, Bethany?" he whispered.

"Yes... Please make me--"

"Come now!" he said at the same time as he crushed my breast in one hand and clamped his thumb and forefinger onto my clit, pinching it fiercely.

The excruciating pain in my poor little nub shot straight up my spine. I snapped rigid, every muscle taut as my neural network hit overload. Intense thrills emanated from his fingers. I shuddered with wave after wave of euphoric tingles zipping through my body. A powerful wail erupted from my lungs and my knees turned rubbery.

I thought I was going to collapse. I'd forgotten that Ben was there, wonderful Ben, hugging me, holding me up and supporting me through it all as he whispered in my ear, "Good girl. What an exceptional, beautiful girl you are, Bethany."

When I finally regained the strength in my legs, he kissed my cheek. Then he pushed something into my hand. It was a business card. It had only his name 'Ben', and a phone number.

"When can I see you again?" I asked.

"Does your husband know about your needs?"

I hung my head. "I've tried to tell him. He...he doesn't understand."

"Has he hurt you?"

Laughing quietly, I said, "That's sort of the problem. He's too nice."

"Has he lied to you? Cheated on you?" Ben asked.

"No, I don't think so," I admitted. His questions were dredging up guilty feelings.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," I whispered, looking at the floor. I raised my eyes, "But--"

Ben pressed his fingers to my lips and I could smell my own lust. "Don't say it. Be honest with yourself and with your husband. Before I give you what you need, he has to know why. You must explain to him."

Forlorn, I told him, "I...I can't. He wouldn't understand. I would lose him and my children too."

Ben kissed my cheek again. "You know how to contact me after you've told him." Then, licking his fingers, he walked out the door. It closed quietly it behind him.

I watched through the mirror as he stopped by the counter to talk briefly with Jessica. He kissed her cheek, then left. She was grinning.

I didn't buy anything. I told Jessica 'Thank you' again and gave her a chaste kiss on her lips that quickly turned steamy. She laid her hand on my side, her thumb rubbing small circles on the curve of my breast. I knew that if I didn't stop I would take her back to that bed in the little room. I told her I would be back, though I didn't trust myself enough to believe I would ever keep that promise.

--=[OOO]=--

The sting on my bottom occupied my mind the whole way home. My kitty wept every time I rubbed it on the seat. Before I picked up the kids from my sister's, I had to pull over and finger myself to another orgasm. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the one Ben had given me, but it was still amazing.

Back at home, I admired my single red welt in the mirror. I shivered when I touched it and had to clench my fists to keep my fingers out of my kitty.

After reassuring myself that my punishment couldn't be seen with my panties on, I whipped together a quick supper. I was running late--Charlie usually arrived a couple of hours after me. My 'welcome home' kiss turned more passionate than I'd intended. He gave me a funny look. I realized I needed to control myself. It was hard with my juices trickling down my leg. I wondered if he could smell me?

As I worked on dinner, I kept glancing back to see if he was looking at me. From his recliner in the den, he had a clear view straight through to the stove. Even though I'd checked thoroughly, I just knew he could see the redness under my panties when I reached up for the plates.

Before bed that night I struggled with whether to entice him into sex. God, I don't think my cunny had ever been that hungry for cock. He often ate me and always wanted the lights on so he could watch my reactions. I couldn't chance it. He wouldn't be able to miss my mark.

In the end, I waited for him to go to sleep before sneaking down to the den to lie back on his recliner and masturbate again.

The pain on my bottom dwindled over the next couple of days. I can't count how many times I used my fingers and vibrator to bring myself off. I sprayed scents in my office to keep it from smelling like a whorehouse. I came while I drove to work, on the way to Cece's to pick up the kids, after Charlie went to sleep, and any other time I could sneak a few minutes alone.

By Thursday, it was gone. I couldn't see or feel anything. My frustration peaked. I couldn't go on like that. This must be how heroin addicts felt, I thought. I needed another fix.

I couldn't tell Charlie, though. I simply couldn't. There was no way I could possibly find words to explain to my husband that another man was going to beat me, make me come, and probably fuck me. How could I even think of doing that to my Charlie? The embarrassing shame and guilt provoked even more lust.

When I thought about how I might talk to my husband about my 'weird' cravings, I began to wonder if I was sick. Maybe I needed professional help. Searching online for sexual therapists who specialized in submissive personalities, I tried to imagine how a therapist might treat me. That's when the epiphany hit.

In bed that night, before we turned out the bedside lamp, I said, "Charlie? You know the stuff we've talked about...you know, those silly little 'special' things I want you to do to me?"

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon Bethany. You're not gonna bring up that 'beat me, hurt me' crap again, are you?"

"I was just thinking, honey...y'know, maybe I need to see a therapist. I met someone who I think may be able to help."

"I'm all for it if you think she can get your head screwed on straight."

"Uh, it's a 'he', not a 'she'," I said.

"Whatever..."

My conscience was assuaged. The next morning, I called Ben's number.

"Ben? This is Bethany. We met--"

"Yes, I remember," he said. "The woman with the lovely ass."

I felt a warm swelling in my chest. He remembered! He loved my ass!

He said, "I'm surprised it took you so long to call. I could tell you really need a few hours on your knees."

"Yes!" I shouted, suddenly realizing how needy I must have sounded. "I mean, yes. I'd like to see you, as soon as I can."

"What did your husband say about meeting with me?"

"His words were, he's 'all for it'."

"Ah, good. What's his telephone number?"

"What?" I exclaimed. "You...you're not gonna call him, are you?"

"With married couples, I've found it's better when I talk directly to the husband so he knows exactly what--"

"No!" I screamed into the phone just as one of the assistant managers walked by my office door. He stared at me, concerned, but I waved him away.

In a quieter voice, I told Ben, "You can't call him. I...I told him you were a...a...you know, a therapist."

Ben laughed. "Okay, first thing. If you ever interrupt me again, my next action will be to remove a layer of skin from that fine ass of yours, then make you watch me fuck somebody else before you lick my cum out of her pussy. Are we clear, Bethany?"

My panties were drenched. Intense pain. Humiliation. Creampie. The hat trick.

"Yes, sir. I understand. No interruptions." Unless I want a rocking good time, that is! "But, please, sir! You can't--"

"What you did was dishonest, Bethany. I presume you know that."

"Yes, sir." Now shame was piled on top of my guilt.

Ben said, "Total and complete trust is the keystone of any relationship. That begins with absolute honesty, no matter how much it hurts."

"But--"

"Do you trust me, Bethany?"

"Yes, but--"

"Do you believe your husband loves you?"

"Yes, but--"

"Is this something you want? Or is it something you need?"

Only a week before I would not have been able to answer that question. Now I knew.

"I need it, sir. I can hardly think about anything else."

"Tell me your husband's name and phone number." His tone was quiet and even, but allowed no argument. "Give them to me now, Bethany. Otherwise, I will hang up and we will never speak again."

"What are you gonna say to him?" I asked.

"We will talk, man-to-man. That's all I can tell you. You should trust me. Name and number. You have five seconds. Four..."

I should have hung up on him. Instead, I gave him Charlie's number before I lost my nerve. Then I closed my office door and wept.

My mind spun with a thousand ways this would play out. What did Ben mean by 'man-to-man'? Would Charlie go along with letting him abuse me and fuck me? Who was I kidding? Of course he wouldn't. My marriage was over. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince him it was just a crazy idea. Maybe if I promised to get some therapy for real.

I couldn't even think about the worst-case scenario. I knew Cece would call me if he came to get Becky and Little Charlie. My husband had a few guns--would he just show up here and start shooting up the place? I'd always heard the quiet ones were the ones you needed to watch.

--=[OOO]=--

The rest of the day my head was in a fog. I jumped when anyone said anything to me. Every time the phone rang, I hesitated before picking it up, fearing it was Charlie telling me he was divorcing me and taking the kids. I felt too sick to eat lunch and left an hour early.

When I saw Charlie's truck in the driveway, bile churned up from my stomach and I nearly lost it. He had left work over three hours early.

Maybe he came home sick and Ben hadn't been able to reach him. Maybe Ben had gone along with my ruse and told Charlie he was my therapist. Maybe hell had frozen over.

Quietly, I opened the back door, expecting to hear things being thrown into boxes.

"Hello, Bethany." Charlie's deep voice made me nearly jump out of my skin. He was sitting at the table, his chair turned out. Next to him were his bourbon, a half-empty glass, and a roll of duct tape. I didn't see a gun.

Gathering all my optimism, I pasted on my most cheerful smile.

"Hi, honey! You're home early. Is everything--"

"Come here."

My gut sank. He was not happy.

"I, uh, I need to...you know, go pick up the kids at--"

"They're staying at Cece's tonight," he said. "Come here."

Oh, shit. We were going to be alone all night. I was dead meat.

I had never imagined my husband harming me in any way, but I found myself taking a circuitous route around the kitchen, staying clear of his reach in case he chose to hit me. I pulled out a chair on the far side.

"Did I tell you to sit?" he asked. His tone had an edge.

"Um, no. I thought--"

"Don't think," he said, glaring at me with those intense sapphires that drew me to him the first night we met. "Stand there."

He pointed to the floor. Preoccupied with watching my husband, I hadn't noticed the two 'X's of silver duct tape about two feet in front of him. It was well within the range of his fists. I didn't think he would harm me, but this was uncharted ground. I'd never seen him like this.

"Charlie, I--"

"Bethany!" he snapped, his jaw set. He didn't say anything else, just pointed at the two tape marks.

Terrified, I shuffled over to stand between them, watching for any quick motions.

Cocking his head with a perplexed look he asked, "Are you stupid? Or just ignorant?"

His words felt like a punch in the gut. The Charlie I knew would never have spoken to me like that. I didn't have room to complain, though.

"No, I'm not... I mean, uhh..." How was I supposed to answer? "I don't know."

My eyes were welling. I had no idea what he was going to do. I feared the worst.

Charlie snorted, shaking his head. "You don't know? I can't believe I chose such a pathetic airhead of a cunt to be the mother of my children."

My mouth dropped open. Did he call me a 'cunt'? My husband had never used such words. Not with anyone. I had caused this. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

He pointed toward the floor again. "Let's see if I can get this through your dense skull. One foot goes on each 'X'." When I moved my feet apart to stand on the tape marks, he said, "That's right. Spread those legs like a dirty slut."

What did he say?

"I-I'm not a--"