A Taste of Slavery Ch. 04

"Fifteen, no more. Bye."

"Bye." Click.

I slipped on my robe, brushed my teeth and had the coffee started before she got there. I opened the door before she could knock, having watched for her.

She hugged me as she rushed in. "Nine times, really?" Lisa asked.

"At least nine. One of them lasted so long it might have been two."

"Oh, don't tell me that. Ten?"

"You wanted to know."

"It's not fair. You still have a husband and he still wants you and he can make you cum ten times in one night. Why are you so fucking lucky and I'm not?"

"Married the right guy, I guess."

"So, did you have to swallow?" Lisa asked.

"A little bit, not much, just the tail end of one of his orgasms, though he did make me lick him clean each time he finished in me. Maybe it's not quite as bad when it's mixed with my cum, but I managed to survive without retching. Swallowing still bothers me, I suppose. I won't overcome it easily. Oh, and he spanked me last night."

"He spanked you?"

"Thirty swats, for cumming without permission. I should have gotten sixty, because I climaxed twice without his permission, but since my slavery didn't really start yet, he made it thirty for the both."

"How did that go over?"

"Surprisingly well," I replied. "Better than I expected. You know me; I get a hangnail and I'm practically in hysterics. But I climaxed once before he started and again after the first twenty, so I was feeling very little pain."

"You climaxed from your spanking?" Lisa asked, uncomprehending.

"No, his fingers. Once at the dinner table, after he fed me..."

"He fed you?"

"Yes, I sat on his lap and he fed me. Chef's salad. He rubbed pieces of my food in my pussy and fed it to me. Plus he rubbed some of his with 1000 Island dressing on my tits and licked them clean. I was quivering and squirming I was so turned on, so he finger fucked me at the dinner table when we were done eating..."

The doorbell rang.

"Who the hell is that?" I asked.

Lisa shrugged. I got up and answered the door. It was a delivery driver from Lowe's.

"Delivery for a Mr. Scott Thompson, ma'am."

"Are you sure he didn't want it delivered to one of his job sites?"

"This is the address I was given."

It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility he'd have stuff delivered here. It had happened seven or eight times before in our marriage. It was rare, but not impossible.

"Put it in the garage then. I'll open the door for you."

I opened the garage door and they brought in some lumber, plywood, some hardware, some rope and chains. I wondered if he was building some kind of swing for one of his clients. When they were done, I closed the garage door again. It wasn't nearly as much as he usually used on a job site.

I went back to the kitchen, added more hot coffee to my cup, offering more to Lisa. She waved it off, saying, "finish up your story."

"Where was I?" I asked.

"He'd been rubbing food on you and licking it off, then was finger fucking you."

"Yeah. And after I orgasmed, he bent me over his knee and spanked me. The first twenty swats weren't too bad, but the very second I flinched and groaned, he finger fucked me again to cumming. Then, he gave me the last ten, harder than the others. They hurt and I cried, but I got through it. Then he bent me over the kitchen table and fucked shit out of me, slamming into me hard, his body smacking against my red ass and I climaxed again, maybe thirty seconds in. By that time, I couldn't even feel the pain in my ass anymore, everything else felt so good. That's the orgasm that might have been two. I swear it lasted for four minutes at least."

"Four minutes?"

"At least."

"I take it you're planning on going ahead with it then?"

"Damn straight."

"And it starts this Friday?"

"Scott won't know until tomorrow, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Now I've decided to do it, I don't want to drag it out and maybe get cold feet."

"Please keep me in the know. I can't wait to hear what happens next."

******

The second he walked in the door, I asked, "Does my slavery start this Friday?"

He smiled at my eagerness and replied, "It does, dear wife. I see Lowe's delivered the stuff I ordered. You will have to help me since we don't have much time."

"Help you with what?"

"With a new piece of furniture I designed."

"Furniture?" I remembered the ropes and chains and couldn't recall any furniture using anything like that except deck furniture, like swings or gliders for a porch.

"Yes, bondage furniture. Something to keep an unruly slave in line. Which is why we need to hurry. I'd like it to be done in the raw state by Friday and tomorrow is poker night." My pussy tightened.

"Are you going to build it in the basement?" Thinking of such a thing in my living room where everyone could see it making me nervous.

"It will be built in such a way it can be easily taken apart so we can eventually placed in the basement, but for now, I'm thinking in front of the picture window where everyone can see you if we open the drapes."

My pussy flooded. In my books, the scenes where the slave is publicly stripped and punished brought up my deepest feelings of shame and humiliation, yet strangely were among the most arousing.

"Scott! We still have to live here after our little experiment is over. How would we ever do that if you displayed me naked in the window?"

"You'd better be an exceedingly good slave or perhaps that's what happens."

Surely he was teasing me, having read some of my books. There were children in the neighborhood. One couldn't publicly parade around nude in front of children. Still the damage was done. If Scott touched my pussy now, he'd know how wet he made me.

"Let's eat so we can get started," Scott said. "Do we have any more of that chef's salad left. I thought it was exceedingly good, didn't you?"

Memories of last night rushed through my mind, making my dampness even worse.

"Yes, we still have a lot left," I said.

"I want to hurry so we can finish. Let's go, chop, chop."

So we sat down to more salad. I had ranch dressing tonight instead of the fluids leaking from my pussy. Scott had Citrus Splash. It was not nearly as entertaining as last nights meal. Scott sped through the salad and I hurried to keep up. We were done eating and the kitchen clean in twenty-five minutes.

"Close the curtains and take off all your clothes, Mrs. Thompson," Scott said.

"I thought you wanted to build that thing. Why do you want me naked?"

"I do and we are, but as it starts to get built and I begin to imagine the ways I will be able to use you on it, I'm sure I'll become aroused and need to fuck you, and I don't want there to be any delays. We can fuck and keep going."

The fucking part sounded nice. My pussy was already in a state where fucking sounded really good. Without another word, I closed the drapes and removed all my clothes. Scott took off all his as well, though his penis was currently flaccid. My fucking eagle-eyed husband noted the wet spot on my panties before I removed them and smiled at me. He pulled a set of plans from his briefcase.

"Did you draw these up today?" I asked.

"No, I started drawing them up after I suggested your slavery and you didn't dismiss it out of hand. I might have wasted some time working it up, but still, it was my time to waste and I didn't care. After going to Mistress Dark's place on Saturday and seeing what she recommended, I added a couple items to it. I'm going to need you to cut up the lumber to these dimensions and start bringing them in." He handed me a list of numbers and dimensions of certain pieces of lumber. "Start with the 2x6's."

Scott had started in carpentry as a young man, learning it from his father. Even after getting his general contractor's license, he kept his hand in carpentry, running his own carpentry crew and hiring out the other trades he needed. He had a workshop out in the garage and still built a lot of things for our house. He'd shown me how to do a lot of things and I'd helped him on a lot of our housing projects. There was even a period of six months where I'd actually worked on one of his crews early in the marriage when he was short handed. But he knew I was capable and he trusted me with his tools. I took the list out to the garage and started cranking out the boards he needed.

It was good lumber of the highest grade, made to be exposed and not hidden behind walls or layers of paint. Some of it was pine and some of it oak. He came out and got some portable tools and some drop cloths, as well as carrying in the hardware, chains and ropes. I started cutting the various lengths of lumber and carrying them into the living room where Scott had put down the drop cloths to protect the wooden floors. I noticed there were eyebolts in several places in the ceiling they hadn't been before, and four more were in the door frame entering the bedroom suite, two at the top and two at the bottom. It was a double door, so it created a wide space. I pictured myself tied in the doorway, with the resultant increase in dampness.

As I started bringing boards in, Scott sanded them, marked them and started boring holes in where he'd marked.

"Just a rough sanding for now," he said. "If we decide to keep it, we'll do a fine sanding, stain it, and seal it and move it to the rumpus room in the basement."

"Okay." The way my pussy was feeling, I doubted I'd ever want to give it up. I went back outside to get more boards. Only eight boards were longer than I was tall and I had to be careful maneuvering through the house so as not to knock anything down. We had ten foot ceilings and none of them were that long. Scott was nothing if not fast and efficient when it came to wood and a framework quickly took shape in my living room. It was basically square with some other appendages added to alter the shape slightly. He was putting nylon sliders under the bottom boards so he could slide it around without damaging the finish on our floors.

After I delivered a couple of the boards, Scott used calipers to measure my neck, wrists and ankles. He also measured around my waist, the length of my legs and arms and my overall height when my arms were raised, writing everything down. By the time he was finished, his cock was raging hard and he bent me over the back of one of the living room chairs and fucked me hard and fast. As fast as he climaxed, I still orgasmed twice before he was finished. He was back at work as soon as his prick left my pussy, like I was some coffee break, no, a fuck break. He didn't expect me to clean him afterwards. Apparently, it was a duty fit for slaves, not wives. I still had to grab a kitchen towel and use it to clean up some of the mess between my legs before I went back to the garage or I'd have left tracks all over the house, like a blood trail, only cum.

I also ended up cutting the plywood into a couple different shapes. By the time I'd brought all the lumber into the living room, it was nearly 11:30 and Scott was almost finished. He stood there admiring his handiwork and pulled me close and with an arm around my shoulder, started pointing out the many features of our new furniture.

"We still have some work to do on it. Perhaps I'll come home a little early tomorrow so we can work on it before poker. Do you want to know what it does?"

"I can guess at some of it," I said, "but some of it is a mystery, so tell me everything."

He pointed to a wide braced arm with an eyebolt at the end. "This is a single point suspension where I can fasten your arms over your heads for punishment or display. Of course, if I need to spread your legs for some reason, they can be secured down here." He pointed to two more eyebolts at the bottom. I started to leak again. "This piece over here is common pillory stocks. What makes them different is they can be raised and lowered so you're forced to stand, bend over to various heights all the way to crouching on the ground. I need to add padding around the wrist and neck holes. I wouldn't want my valuable slave to get scraped when I'm fucking her hard or punishing her. I made the holes large enough to add the padding." The longer he continued, the wetter I got and he seemed to be picturing me used as well, his cock was noticeably lengthening and thickening.

"This is a St. Andrew's cross. With the proper cuffs on, you can be suspended erect or upside down." Another twinge to my pussy. "It also needs padding."

"What are the proper cuffs?" I asked.

"Suspension cuffs. They don't put unnatural pressure on your wrists and ankles so they cut off circulation. You can hang for quite a long time."

"Do you have any suspension cuffs? Is it one of the things sitting in our closet now?"

"No. Mistress Dark will be bringing them and a couple other items when she comes on Saturday."

"Mistress Dark is coming on Saturday?" I asked. "Why?"

"To help me train you. She said she can have you deep throating me before she leaves, and she's going to monitor the first time I whip you so I know I'm doing it right."

"Is she bringing a whip too."

"No, the whip is already in the closet. It wasn't that expensive so I took a chance we'd be doing this and bought it."

"Are you going to tell me what else you bought?"

"When the time is right. Perhaps when I'm actually demonstrating on you all this thing is capable of doing, Friday night." Another twinge.

"What's this thing here?" I pointed to a small bar sitting up just off the floor.

"It's a penitent bar. You can either be bent over the top or sit on it." It didn't have much width, so I imagined sitting on it for any length of time would be uncomfortable or even painful, especially after my bottom had been paddled or spanked.

"And this thing here." I pointed to the the bench like object made up of two pieces of plywood fastened together to make it about an inch thick.

"That will need to be padded as well. I devised that myself. The slave is fastened down on her back with neck and wrists fastened at this end. Her legs go up in a nice V through the wide spread holes on the top. Her whole bottom sits off the edge and of course, both her sex and anus are available to me in a kneeling position. In addition to an excellent position for fucking, it will be good for oral sex or even punishment. She won't be able to move much and will be helpless for whatever I want."

Of course, he wasn't speaking about some nameless slave to be named later. He was talking about me. I was the slave this would be used on, and thinking about it was driving me mad with lust. The same with Scott. His cock was hard and waving around like a flag.

"I don't see any of the rope. What was the rope for?"

"For tying you down to the bed," he said, "and other purposes, like the eyebolts in the door jam." I shivered again.

"I'd like to check the fit of the stocks to see if the holes are the right size. Do you mind?"

Hell no, I didn't mind. I wanted to put my hands and head in them and hoped he would pound my pussy to a milky froth. I didn't even care about padding. He'd rounded the edges and finely sanded the holes where everything went. Without a word, I put my hands in the proffered holes and he lowered the top bar and fastened it together.

"Try to get out."

I made a half-hearted attempt to get out, but I didn't really want to get away. He lowered the bar until I was bent over with my torso parallel to the floor. My butt was sticking out and Scott moved around me until he was behind me. Please fuck me, Scott, I thought. Don't make me beg for it.

"You have a beautiful ass, dear." He was patting and running his hand over said object, making me quiver. "Maybe the best I've ever seen. In fact, you're just lovely in every way and you're going to make a perfect little slave."

I felt his cock touch my cleft and thought to myself, YES! I moaned as he ever so slowly, pushed into me. I was unsure he was still entering me except for the rising sense of fullness until his abs were pressed against by buns. There was no pause, no hitch, no hesitation; I was so wet. He didn't move; just stood still, his cock twitching inside me. I wanted him to move. I wanted to feel him fuck me, but still he stood, nothing moving but the throbbing of his cock in my needy pussy. Apparently, I was going to have to beg after all.

"Fuck me," I said, hoping it was all he needed, permission to use me.

"Not yet," he said. "I'll cum too soon. If I move now, I'll cum and I want you to get pleasure as well."

At least he had a good reason for not fucking me. I could wait for that. For three or four minutes we stood there, joined at the crotch. His cock stopped twitching, but still he waited. I wasn't in the most comfortable position, but it wasn't bad. My hands and head was supporting the weight of my torso nicely. After awhile as we waited for his own need to dissipate, he started playing with my breasts, hanging below my body. The instant he touched my nipples, they were hard as bullets. He gently stroked them, pausing at times to finger the rigid nubs, rolling them between his fingers and thumb. If he did it long enough, I might cum from the stimulation to my breasts alone. I moaned for him, letting him know how much I appreciated it.

Eventually, I felt him move, pulling out almost as slow as he went in. It felt so good. The head of his cock almost left my dripping slit before he reversed direction and pushed back, faster this time. I was on the edge of the precipice.

"Do I need permission to cum?" I asked.

Scott laughed and said, "Go ahead and cum whenever and as much as you want."

I whimpered in answer, and he laughed some more. Another stroke out and in and I was almost there. The next one was harder and faster, his balls slapping against my clit and I tumbled over the edge, my cries of ecstasy encouraging him to pump faster. Another long one, dragged out by his continued thrusting right through the heart of my orgasm. I had another one right on the tails of the first. It felt so good. I'd wanted him to fuck me to a milky froth and he was well on his way. Considering he'd had to delay moving to avoid cumming too fast, he was able to keep pumping long enough to give me a third one before he groaned and I felt his hot cum jetting up into my pussy. He kept plunging into my sheath through his own orgasm, long enough I had a fourth before his dwindling cock pulled out of me. I could feel our fluids running down my legs.

"You might fuck me to death during your slavery," Scott said.

"Promises, promises," I responded. He laughed.

He left me in the stock while he got the same towel I'd used before and he wiped my legs, and finally my soaking pussy, then he released me.

"Well, we both seem to enjoy the new furniture," he said.

"That's an understatement," I responded. "I'm having the best sex of my life and we've been married ten years. You managed to push some very twisted buttons when you suggested we do this."

"There's usually some fire when you see smoke. They have to be your favorite books for a reason."

"I didn't realize how much they were playing into my own fantasies."

"It's late. I need to get to bed. I need another shower. Join me or wait until I'm finished?"

"I'll wait. I think I'd enjoy a nice soaky bath instead. You kept me pretty busy tonight."

Scott kissed me, smiling. I had a sneaking suspicion he knew why I wanted to dawdle in the water, and it had nothing to do with getting clean. I was still horny even after cumming six times tonight.

******

"Do you need any help getting ready for poker tonight?" I asked when I called Lisa around ten.

"No, I have it handled. Did you and Scott play any more last night?"

"Not really any of the slavery stuff, but we did play some. The stuff Lowe's delivered yesterday was for a new piece of furniture; bondage furniture for correcting recalcitrant slaves. Scott and I put it together last night, most of it. It still needs some work. We both worked naked and after he took some measurements of me for it, we fucked, then he was back at work and I had to wipe myself to keep from dripping all over the floor. Before we went to bed, he pointed out a few of the features and functions to me. One of them was some stocks. He had me try them so he could check the holes were large enough. While I was still fastened in them, he screwed me again. I climaxed four times, and one of them was another double. I've been studying it this morning, and just looking at it makes me wet."