Biggest Risk of My Life Ch. 08-1

Our relationship had never been stronger. We were loving, caring and happy together.

It should have been perfect. Right? But it wasn't. Frustration had set in bigtime with me.

My regular sex, as vanilla as it was, only served to remind me of what could be. My subdued orgasms simply acted to remind me of the spectacular ones I had previously experienced with my Master.

My constant daily arousal continued, with the levels actually increasing. Sex was constantly on my mind and the methods I used to deal with it had evolved. Yes, Steve benefited by the increased frequency of our love making. But... the intensity was always down-tuned. Remember, I couldn't show him the slut within.

So, my frustration levels had increased.

Now, a couple of months after the "meeting adventures" I had experienced, my regular routine now included me arriving home as fast as I could and then making use of the at least two hours before Steve got back.

I would strip naked. I now loved the feeling of freedom it gave me so had continued the practice. Looking at my body in the floor-length dressing mirror, I would see myself as my Master would see me: a naked, lusty, aroused, slut. I now loved caressing my breasts until I could feel a stiffening in my nipples. Then I knew it was time to put my fingers on the nipples... and pull them out before releasing them. Again and again. They would get so aroused, so hard. When I pinched them suddenly, I could feel the jolt all the way down in my cunt. I could feel myself getting wetter down below.

By pulling, pinching and twisting my nipples in a slowly increasing severity, I could get my body almost to the level of orgasm. Almost but not quite. That alone was also a tease for me. Balancing on the brink of orgasm without actually going over. Perhaps I needed someone else to be playing with my breasts and nipples, before I could actually orgasm from it. A bit like not really being able to tickle oneself: it needs to be someone else doing it to be successful.

Mmm. Something to think about, I suppose. More "hands on" research required, I thought, as a grin appeared on my face. Researching sex could be such fun, I concluded.

Sometimes, when they were at their peak arousal, I would attach a peg to each nipple, to remind me of what "He" had done to me.

Yes, I was using the range of sex toys I had purchased and that my Master had left for me.

All my masturbatory thought revolved around Him. I imagined they were His hands and fingers doing the things to my craving body. I was offering up myself to his whims.

By the time my marauding fingers sought out my molten core, my so wet and hot cunt, I would be almost in a frenzy of lust. I had a multiple choice of thing to do that would almost result in an instant orgasm, if I had followed my normal breast teasing build-up.

I could just pinch my clitoral hood, pulling at my entrapped clit. That would definitely result in a scream and squeal of orgasm as my body jack-knifed into a mind bending orgasm.

Or I could plunge my bare fingers, two at first, and then possibly three or, if particularly horny, four fingers into the swamp of my cunt. The shock of their insertion and subsequent rapid in-and-out, would be enough to wrest a cataclysmic orgasm from my resisting body.

If I really wanted to tease and delay my orgasm further, I could insert one of the butt plugs, giving me that "filled" feeling. Then, by slowly inserting either a dildo into my greedy cunt, or perhaps a vibrator that was turned off, I could equally feel completely full.

Once I chose to turn on the vibrator, all hell would break loose as I quickly escalated my arousal level to Def-con 5. Touch down. Lift off. Explosion. Whichever analogy fits best.

I really couldn't explain why all this was happening. I suspected only my Master would know. But... where was he? Why hadn't he revealed himself and contacted me? I was going crazy here and he was ignoring me when he knew what I needed. Why was he hiding from me? Why?

After thinking that perhaps it would be best for my marriage if I didn't interact with him again, I had evolved to wondering what else he would do to my exposed, defenceless body if given the opportunity. Finally, I began to crave His touch, His attention, in whatever way He chose. Just as long as he controlled me and gave me what I desired most. Extreme pleasure. He understood me. He was my Master.

After weeks of ignoring my email account and avoidance of skype, I was now making it a daily practice to check to see if he had contacted me. Nothing. Nada. Nowt. He knew my reactions to his actions and was obviously shunning me. Why?

Perhaps I should contact him direct, I asked myself. Using the medium that he had established: skype. Leaving a message letting him know that I missed him. Missed his controlling touch. No, that would be too much. To act that submissive, that needy, might just back-fire and force him to stay away. What would he think of me if I did that? No, it's best I let him make that decision as to further contact. Perhaps he no longer wanted his slut? The thought was depressing. What would my future be then?

Sometimes, in an attempt to recreate parts of what he did to me, I would lay naked on my bed, wrists engulfed in the wrist cuffs he had left. A collar around my neck, symbolising my submissive role and highlighting His ownership. The sleeping mask covering my eyes so I couldn't see. Sometimes the balaclava on also but I had found that to be too hot for me so I didn't enjoy it as much. What woman wants to have a red, sweaty face? Not me.

I would run my hands over my body. My breasts, my thighs. All around my sensitive belly, on over my prominent mound and down on to my swelling labial lips. Wet, so wet.

A quick slap of my lips would give me different sounds and sensations. Sometimes just a slap noise followed by a sting of pain. After two of three of those, with gaps in between as I stoked my body further, the slap noise changed to a wet squelch noise as my arousal flooded my cunt and surrounding lips.

What a slut I was. Loving the pain. Getting aroused. Desiring and pleading with my absent Master to be "fucked" hard. "Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me, Master... make me your love slut."

Turning on to my hands and knees, burying my face in the bedding, forcing my butt up and my legs wide apart, making my pleasure spots available to whoever was behind me, made me feel so vulnerable, so exposed, so submissive to the stallion of my Master, it sent shudders through my body. Such an animalistic way of presenting myself.

My desire for the holy grail of orgasms went on and on, day after day, after day. I had experienced them and now I wanted more.

Things were beginning to get out of hand. My masturbation sessions were getting more and more intense as my arousal levels continued to increase. I had begun to notice men looking at me during the day. Giving me knowing looks. Could they sense my heightened arousal? Perhaps I was giving off those pheromones I had read about and their inner cave man was responding to my signals. While I was at work I was safe but when I went out at lunchtime to buy something, I could sense their interest as they examined me like a Lion viewing an antelope dinner.

Some had tentatively approached me, ignoring my wedding ring of protection. The worst thing was... I found their approaches both flattering and stimulating. I had managed to ward them all off until one day a most insistent man had placed his hand on my arm and whispered in my ear, "You need a good fucking, you little slut."

The shock of what he said was overwhelming. It took my breath away and I couldn't even talk. It had caused me to instantly flood my panties with moisture as I stutteringly attempted to tell him he was wrong. He was about age 40 and wasn't even handsome but I was responding to him like some cheap whore.

"I'm not wrong, slut. Come with me to my hotel room and I'll explain all." He began pulling me along the street and, heaven help me, I actually allowed him to lead me for about 10 steps before I suddenly came to my senses and yelled at him.

"Take your hands off me. Help me please," I yelled to other pedestrians as I resisted his lead. As people stopped and looked he glared at me before letting my arm go and walking briskly away.

My heart was thumping, my breathing rapid as I counted my blessings over my escape. My nipples were throbbing with arousal and I already knew I was flooded down below. I couldn't go on like this, I decided. For one brief moment there I had almost... no, I managed to save myself. But what if I had been out with friends one evening? A few glasses of wine, isolated briefly while visiting the bathroom, I may have been, well, not exactly tempted but could I have resisted him sufficiently to get away before my need for submissive satisfaction overcame my common sense.

I definitely needed an additional outlet of release. My private sessions were now not enough and I needed something else. The time had come for more proactive action, I concluded.

So finally, after having survived months of escalating frustration, I had reached tipping point. The moment I got home I grabbed my laptop, opened skype and sent a message. He had withdrawn from me but now I needed him back in my life.

"Master, your slut urgently desires to chat with you.

I have a need to learn more from you and humbly request the benefit of your knowledge. I have questions only you can answer and desires only you can fulfil.

Yours truly,

Slut."

...

Steve

Well, I was shocked. Over these last few months my relationship with my wife, I felt, was stronger than ever. She appeared very happy... we spoke more, laughed together a lot. Even had more social outings together, as if we were dating or newly-weds. It was great.

The frequency of our sex life had dramatically increased over what it had been. We were having sex at least two or three times per week and often Christina was the one who proactively instigated a session. Plus, I thought she was enjoying herself more and reaching an orgasm each time. At least, I thought she did. That made me feel proud: that I was providing pleasure to my beautiful wife and she wasn't just doing it as part of some service for me, her husband. It made me feel wanted. Loved even. She wanted me, her husband.

When we had sex she was always wet and aroused when I eased myself inside of her. That was in marked contrast to the dried up, unaroused state I had encountered prior to my "visits" as a mystery master.

Sure, the actual sex was very vanilla. No oral at all and she still refused to let me see her naked body. Plus, the sex itself was not the wild, monkey sex I had hoped for but my love for Christina was now so strong that I decided it wasn't worth the risk to "push the envelope further" trying for something she seemingly couldn't provide to her husband. It was something I had reconciled myself to.

Sad really in many ways, given that I knew what she was capable of when "forced" to do so. Her wild side was hidden from me, as if she were deeply ashamed. I understood aspects of her "core belief values" that had been built up throughout her entire lifetime were at play here. Those values are not easy to displace or even change slightly. I had accepted that.

So it was with great shock that I noticed that a message was in my skype program. Since I had only set up skype to communicate with the slut persona, it had to be from her.

I was alone in an office at work, at about 5.30 pm, having completed a big project earlier so had plenty of time to tangent off on a personal matter. Opening and reading her message was both shocking and thought provoking.

Christina was reaching out to her Master. She seemed to accept the slut role and name he had given her... and stated she wanted more of what only he could provide.

She wanted to URGENTLY chat with him again. Why?

Did she want to re-engage with him? Meaning, she wasn't getting total satisfaction from her husband. Now that was confidence deflating in itself.

Realising that trying to second guess the reason for the message was not productive, I sent back a reply.

"Slut, where are you right now?"

"At home Master. I need to talk with you please."

It didn't take much thought to decide to accept her request.

"Slut, prepare yourself correctly for a video chat. No need for a blindfold as my cam will not be on. You have 15 minutes exactly... then you may video call me. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. 15 minutes. Presented for you. Thank you, Master."

The 15 minutes were really for me, not my slut, I realised. I needed to think about this some more. Could I do this? Did I want Christina to cheat on me with her master? Ok, that was me also but she didn't know that. Damn. It was too confusing for words. I would just have to hear what she wanted first before I made any decisions.

One thing I knew for sure: I couldn't allow this skitzo situation to develop further. It caused un-thought of problems last time, even if I did enjoy it and it did have a positive effect on our relationship.

I made sure I would not be disturbed in the office. I pressed buttons and re-directed my land line phone. I turned off my personal cell phone and, finally, locked my office door, just to be doubly certain no one would enter. Just before the agreed time, I stuffed my mouth again with the hated cotton buds to disguise my voice. I was now ready.

...

Right on time, the skype ring tones sounded out and I answered, without my cam of course.

"Hello again, slut. Let me examine you first, before we talk," I instructed. I paused slightly as her cam auto focused, providing her live feed. She was indeed presented correctly.

Christina was laying on her back, the cam between her legs, giving an upwards view. Strangely, it was her beautiful eyes and face I focused on first. She looked aroused but scared. As if she were totally uncertain about what she was doing.

She had her black collar on. Her slave, slut collar. I had to admit, it did look great on her.

Christina was totally naked, except for the required slut items. It looked as if she had her red coloured pegs attached to her nipples. I hadn't been able to get black ones. Her wrists had the black wrist cuffs attached, ready to be joined together if required and I could see the end of an inserted butt plug as it protruded slightly.

Her smaller vibrator could be seen inserted in her sexy pussy but it seemed to be getting expelled from her noticeably wet cunt as I watched. Her right hand suddenly appeared, pushing it back up inside. In fact, her whole lips appeared red and engorged, as if she had been playing with them already. They led the eye up to her obviously aroused clit embedded in her large clitoral hood. What a beautiful, sexy package my wife actually was. I was so lucky. Or was I really? Doubts had already begun festering.

"Very good, slut. You remembered correctly," I acknowledged. "Now, what is it that you so urgently wanted to discuss with me?"

"Master, your slut desperately needs you. She needs you to do those things to me as only my Master can. Please... I... I have missed you in my life," she pleaded.

Her eyes seemed to captivate mine, as if she could actually see through her cam directly into me.

"Master, I need to be fucked. Fucked hard," she emphasised the "hard".

"I need you to spank this sluts' ass... to slap my breasts. I need you to control me when you are my Master."

She was still looking directly into her cam. Right at me, it seemed. What type of strange message was she trying to convey... because there was obviously some hidden meaning behind her words.

"I've tried to control these feelings I have but I can't. I need you. I love it when you control me. When you do all those things to my slut body. I can't explain it any further," she explained as if in a frustrated way.

"I both need it... and I want it. Please Master. Come home and give me a taste of your cock, deep in my throat. Fuck my face and cum all over it. Fuck my slutty, wet cunt. Fuck my ass. I know you want to." The pleading in her voice had escalated.

I could see that her eyes were now filled with tears and they were trickling down her beautiful face. The pleading was also being transmitted via the look in her eyes.

I was watching her so closely that at first her next words didn't immediately register.

"Cuff me... and fuck me, Steve. Come home and visit me as my Master this time." Her voice continued, breaking through a sudden cloudy mist that had formed in my brain.

"I want to give myself totally to you," she continued. "Not as my loving husband... but as my loving Master. I feel so close to you now and I need you to do this for me... please!"

WTF. My brain couldn't process what I was hearing. She called me "STEVE". She somehow knew that her master was me! How? WTF!

I sat slumped in my chair, grateful that my cam wasn't actually on. She knew. Why... How... When? My imitation of a goldfish continued as I wrestled with the reality of the situation.

Finally I managed to refocus back on Christina's cam. She was thrusting the vibrator in and out of her still very wet cunt. A steady motion. All the while still staring directly into her cam at me.

Clearing my voice after spitting out the cotton buds, I asked, "When did you find out?"

"After that first time, when you pretended to be a burglar, I had my doubts but wasn't sure," Christina began explaining. "The more I thought about what had happened, the more I realised that I had actually... well... enjoyed parts of it. I just couldn't believe that a woman could enjoy those things."

I could see that Christina was embarrassed to admit this. Weirdly, she had continued to stroke the vibrator in and out, while we spoke.

"I had researched a lot of things that had been done to me, on the internet. It was a real eye opener, believe me. I read the descriptions on Wiki of the actual actions and followed that up by reading stories on a website called Literotica. After watching many videos I realised that I wasn't as crazy as I thought. Many reasonably normal people also indulged in erotic, unusual behaviour.

I finally twigged it was you during our skype talks and when you got me to do certain things. Your speech mannerisms betrayed you, I'm sorry to say."

"So, you knew it was me from then on?"

"Yes. Not absolutely but fairly certain," she admitted, before continuing.

"I did wonder why you wanted to pretend you were someone else. Then I realised the Madonna/slut situation was having an impact on our marriage. Steve, I'm so sorry for denying you the husbandly rights of seeing me naked and having oral sex and all that stuff. You have to realise that... I just couldn't allow myself to do it. But... as your slut to a mysterious Master, I could let myself be free. To do all those disgusting things little conservative me wouldn't do."

"I also realised that you were just role playing. I thought you wanted me to remain as your conservative wife. To continue doing what I had been doing... and confining my slut role to when I was encountering my Master.

"Of course, when you visited me again, it was all confirmed. Even though you had tried to disguise your "Steve smell" by using a different cologne, when I was sucking your cock, you couldn't escape then. It was definitely you I was sucking... and I knew it was you doing all those things to me."

"Well that explains a few things about last time," I admitted. "You were really getting into it."

"Yes, that's right. It gave me the freedom to let myself go, once I realised I wasn't cheating on my husband," she laughed. "I still didn't really understand why you were not coming out and letting me know who you were. I just thought you wanted to keep things split. To keep both a Madonna... and a slut, separated."