How Bad She Needs to Be Good Ch. 02

Chapter 2

The day after our decision to commit ourselves to Mr. Marks, I walked into Allen's office, closed the door, and laid the envelope containing our agreement on his desk. He looked up from it without picking it up. He leaned back in his chair and took me in.

It felt like he was appraising another woman, the new woman I had become for him. Her blouse was sheer and she hoped the pattern would hide the fact that she was braless beneath it. But if a man let his gaze linger, he'd be able to see her erect nipples and the hint of brown of her areolae peeking through. He'd see her breasts sway underneath as she shifted her feet. Through the open neckline, he'd catch the exposed cleavage aching to feel the slickness of his cum dripping down. He might look up and see the brightly glossed lips mirror the gloss she hoped would come from being parted by his cock and smeared by his cum. He'd see her auburn hair pulled back away from her face, in a loose fall that made sure he could have an unobstructed view if he chose to fuck her face. If he looked down, he'd see the tight skirt with the slit carefully revealing the top of her thigh. Would he appreciate knowing she had removed a few stitches to let it part a little higher if needed? It would be so easy for him to slip his hand up and feel her wetness open and waiting for him.

"Go open the door," he said, "We wouldn't want tongues to wag."

"Yes, Sir," I said somewhat embarrassed by my transgression. I went over and opened the door, but not without making sure he got a good look at my round ass walking away. I hoped that's what he wanted to see. Would it make him want to swat it? Maybe... paddle it?

I returned to my seat and sat down crossing my legs. The slit parted enough for him to see that there was nothing hidden from him. I pressed my thighs together just to feel the pressure.

"Eager to begin, I see," he said.

I nodded. My breath was shallow and rapid. Was I going to come just displaying myself for him? Thirsty bitch.

He reached over and picked up the envelope. Even though he was my father's age, he was so much better shape than even my husband. A little silver in his hair and beard but he looked like he could run a triathlon. He opened my letter and read it quietly. It was short and he took more time than was necessary to read it. It was easy to write because I had composed many drafts in my mind before I spoke to my husband, Tim, about taking this step.

The letter read, "We, the undersigned with full understanding of the implications and consequences, do agree to serve Mr. Marks in whatever capacity he desires, with full knowledge that our marriage is now his to shape, our bodies are his to use, and his will is ours, so long as he desires."

At the bottom were both our shaky signatures.

At last Allen said, "Very... generous."

I tried to smile but I'd never been more nervous to show my writing before.

"Of course, we'll work out important details. I need to understand your boundaries and all your fantasies. Every delicious desire," he said, adding, "Breathe now."

I let myself exhale. I was so flustered I literally forgot to breathe.

"You need safe words."

I shook my head, no. Anything, I thought to myself. I was open to everything.

"I insist. Red, Yellow, Green," he said, "Stop, Slow, More."

"Yes, Mr. Marks. Uh... Green."

"I love it when you say my name, my pet."

I wanted to say, "Fuck, yes. I am your pet, Mr. Marks," and instead I just whimpered.

"Did the two of you fuck after you signed this?"

"Y- yes." I nodded nervously. Were we not supposed to?

"That's the last time you come without my permission."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Marks." My heart pounded. He was taking us!

"Touch yourself."

"What?" I looked to the open door. "Here?"

"Just be discrete, Rebecca." His smile was a challenge.

Slowly I reached my hand inside my skirt.

"Interesting," he said, "You could have touched yourself anywhere but you went right to it didn't you, my greedy one?"

Fuck, he had me.

"Yes, sir," I said, "I couldn't help myself."

"No, no you can't. Slip your fingers in and use your thumb over your clit. Don't move your arm. That's it."

It was difficult at first, but then I worked out how to move my fingers only and not my elbow or forearm. It's not like I needed instructions in self-pleasure, but I never had to worry about being seen. My eyes were open and staring into his as I worked my fingers over my labia and clit, occasionally sliding them in my vagina to pick up more lubrication.

"You're so ready, aren't you?"

"Mm hmm."

"You would come for me right here and now, wouldn't you?"

"Mm hmm."

"You'd make a lot of noise, I expect?"

I nodded. I opened my mouth.

"Are you close?"

"Unh," I took a deep breath.

"Stop."

I froze. My chest was rising and falling. I wasn't feeling very discrete. Having thought about fucking him literally all night and now being asked to masturbate right in front of him, I was right at the edge of coming.

"We don't need people running in here, do we?"

I shook my head. It was already shaking from desire.

"Show me your hand."

I brought it out and raised it up between us. My fingers were slick. He nodded to them.

I understood the assignment and plunged them in my mouth. I looked him in the eye as I licked them clean. I tasted so good, like sweet almonds. No wonder my husband loved it so.

"Every hour. You do that for me. Bring yourself right to the edge. And clean your fingers just like that. And next time I ask for something, you do it. No hesitation."

I felt a little panicked. That was a lot. Where would I do this? Hourly? Right to the edge?

"Every hour." he said, "Set an alarm. Even at night. If Tim is there, you tell him what you're doing. You tell your husband you have no choice. Tell him he has to watch. That's all, just watch. You're doing this for me. Give me your phone."

I unlocked it and handed it to him. He tapped on it and handed it back. There was a new contact. It was simply labeled, "Sir."

"Each time, send me a picture of your wet fingers."

"Yes... sir."

My gaze wandered. I started to think of how many times I would need to bring myself to the edge, the ache of wanting to come hitting me each hour. And for how long? Until he says stop. Making Tim watch me finger myself for my master. Each hour. Waking up at night, each hour. Needing to come, but not able to, each hour.

"Rebecca?"

"Yes, Sir?" I said at last, unable to hide the fear in my voice.

"Don't miss an hour," he said sternly. "And if you come...?"

I shook my head.

"You will regret it," he said.

"Yes, Sir. I understand."

"Good girl."

Oh, fuck. I almost came right there. Those words always trigger something primal in me. I felt the flutter in my belly. I was so close. I was so keyed up with expectation. This was really happening. He was taking control of me. It wasn't a fantasy. I was on the ride and it was in motion. It was too late to go back now.

Allen smiled broadly. He knew what this was doing to me. And I was so grateful in that moment because suddenly I realized that doing this -- doing this right -- took a lot of creativity and thought for him, which only made me want to please him more.

"I... is there anything else you... need from me?" I said, attempting my most kittenish tone.

Allen turned to his computer and began typing. "Do as you're told."

Shit, that was a mistake. I stood up disconsolate. I straightened my skirt. A little streak of my juices dripped down my inner thigh. I wiped it from my finger and immediately licked it clean. I could smell my heat in the air and, frankly, it was intoxicating. I was going to need to hide in my office for sure. I walked slowly toward the door, hoping his eyes would be tempted to look at me again.

His voice stopped me. "Text me your husband's number."

I looked back at him but he was looking at the screen.

"Yes, sir," I said. I opened my phone immediately and sent it. I heard Allen's phone buzz. I walked out without him looking at me again.

What did he want with my husband's number? Should I warn him? I thought Tim would always be with both Allen and me. I didn't expect they'd have contact without me. I was nervous for Tim more than feeling left out, but I did feel a little out of control of things.

But that was the point wasn't it? I wasn't in control anymore.

I let that sink in a bit. All control is Sir's. So, there was no choice about telling Tim. I wouldn't. I would not because Allen didn't tell me to. I had one job now. I was to set an alarm. I looked at the clock. It was 9:28. I thought back. OK, it was a few minutes ago -- my last taste, my first taste. I hoped that 19 minutes after the hour was close enough. I set the alarm.

For the first hour, I practically watched the clock the entire time. I sat at my desk unblinking, not able to work on anything. I waited and watched, playing back the conversation in my mind. I wondered if he'd already texted Tim, or called him. What would they say? They hadn't had but a few words and that was back at our wedding.

I was in awe now of the trust Tim had in me. He was taking a huge risk. Allen could want anything from him. I had the benefit of desire. I had wanted Allen for so many years. He was a template in my mind. But Tim had none of that. He only knew my desire. And his own. He loved me.

I trusted Allen. He'd been right, hadn't he? He knew exactly what I should say to Tim and how. Allen had the experience. After all, Tim did respond the way Allen said he would. I smiled thinking of how Allen had laughed when I told him the details of Tim's acts of submission to me. How Tim enjoyed sucking his own cum out of me. How Tim had pretended it belonged to another man.

Suddenly, loud music cut through my reverie. I jumped as the alarm went off. An hour had passed already. I reached down between my legs in relief. Then stopped. I could not have relief. I needed to go slowly. There was no need to wait for the wetness. I was still sopping. I tried to make it last, but almost immediately I felt the swell of sensation rising up like waves through me. I froze as I dared not move another muscle. I waited for the wave to abate, then I slowly started dipping my fingers inside me. I resolved to make them dramatically wet for him.

I lifted up my hand and held my phone camera to view them. Then, unsatisfied, I went back to see if I could get my fingers shinier. Looking again, I zoomed in further. (I had to lay my phone down on the desk to make the adjustment.) I looked again. There. They seemed pretty enough. I liked the look of the gloss over my painted nails. An extra coat, I thought to myself. I spread my fingers a little to pull a little string of sticky silver between them to catch in the light.

I snapped the picture and sent it to Allen. The whoosh sound of the phone sent a thrill through me. I'm really doing this, I thought.

I licked my fingers as I waiting several agonizing minutes before I received a text back. "Don't be late again."

Fuck, how did I mess up the time?! No, I took too long to admire my work. I resolved to do better.

I did this each hour for the rest of the day. I had to excuse myself in a meeting to "Go to the ladles' room." On the way home, I had to pull over to the side of the road. By the time I got to our house, my skin was practically jumping with electricity. I began to worry that I was going to spontaneously combust and it had only been eight hours.

When I arrived home, Tim immediately came out of his office to greet me. He works from home.

"Hi, honey--" he said and then he saw how I was dressed. "Fuck me," he whispered.

I gave a little curtsy. The skirt parted on my thigh.

"Damn," he said as the came to me and gave me a kiss. He slid his hand up my exposed thigh.

"Stop," I said. "You'll make me come."

"Isn't that the point?" he growled as he kissed me again. "You smell fantastic." He slid his hand up further.

"I would love... nothing more..." I said pulling away, "But we're not allowed to come."

Tim blew out a heavy sigh. "Right. Of course. I guess, it's started."

I nodded, saying, "But I'm glad you approve of my outfit."

"He didn't...?"

"Oh, he got to appreciate it, but I'm sure now he's not going to risk anything between us at work. Which... makes sense."

I stepped inside and kicked my heels off. I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I needed to rehydrate.

Tim followed me. As I drank the water, he reached into his pocket. He pulled something out.

"Here," he said, holding it out to me.

I stepped over and looked in his palm.

"A house key?"

"You are to give him this tomorrow. First thing."

"Our house key?"

"Yes," Tim said, "He texted me today. At least, I assumed it was him." He laughed. I laughed too as I took the key.

"So," I said soberly appraising the key, "He has full access."

"24/7. He insisted."

My heart was beating fast again. I imagined Allen slipping into our house in the middle of the night. I looked at Tim who I could tell was a little shook. Then the alarm went off and he jumped at the sound.

I didn't even bat an eye. I just said, "I need to do something."

I leaned back against the counter. I licked my fingers, slipped my hand up my thigh, and ran my fingers over my labia. I pressed my fingers inside and brought my thumb up to catch some of my juices to rub along my clit.

Tim's mouth hung open. He was speechless.

I began to pant. I looked into Tim's eyes.

"He told me to touch myself... every hour."

"Oh, wow."

"But Tim, I am not allowed to come."

"I... OK."

"I do this for him. Every. Hour. Right to the edge."

"Damn."

"And I want... I want to come so... badly."

I moaned in frustration as I pulled my hand out. I held it up and slid my fingers against each other. I handed Tim my phone. "Take a picture," I said handing him my phone. "Get close," I said as I began to run my tongue between my fingers.

Tim leaned in and I heard several snaps. Finally, he stopped and went to hand it back. I shook my head and kept cleaning my fingers.

"Pick the best one and text it to him."

Tim nodded and flipped through until he found one he seemed to prefer. He turned it to me. It was a very close shot. There was a bead of liquid on my lower lip and my fingers were deep in my mouth. My thumb was shiny in the foreground.

"Yeah, that one."

He said, "Who do I send it to?"

"Sir."

"Oh. Right."

He found the contact and sent the picture. I appreciated that he double-checked. I glanced at the clock: 6:20 PM. Pretty close. I didn't know how much leeway Sir gave me. That uncertainty seemed to be the point. I couldn't be sure when I was doing right. And there was that wicked thought that I might want to fail just to feel the punishment.

Then I noticed Tim was sliding his thumb across the screen. I knew he was looking at the earlier photos. Pic after pic of my wet fingers. Some were taken while I was looking in a mirror -- the bathroom, my car. Some were just my hands. Tim was breathing heavily.

"Those are not for you," I said as I held out my hand.

He looked up. Sheepishly he handed the phone back to me. I looked down and I could see he had an erection straining against his jeans.

"I wish I could take care of that, dear," I said. "But we are not to come."

"Yeah, yeah. This is going to be hard."

Then he laughed at his own pun. He rolled his eyes. I laughed too, then I bit my lip. I pictured Allen's strong arms, his casual gaze as he watched me stroke myself. It wasn't the expression Tim wore when he watched me just now, which was of anxiety and desperation. I felt a wave of pity for Tim. Yeah, it was going to be hard for him for a while. Then I felt a little stitch of excitement at the same thought.

I said, "So, did Sir ask anything else of you?"

"I shouldn't say. Fair play. But he wants to meet me. Alone."

I nodded. Of course he does. Boundaries to set. Questions to be asked.

"Are you OK with that?" I said.

"I'm really, really nervous. I kind of expected I would always be with you."

I nodded in agreement. "He knows what he's doing, Tim. Just go with it. This is just getting to know you, I'm sure. He won't push you further than you want to go. Plus, we have safe words: red, yellow, green."

"OK, yeah. That's pretty easy."

He still looked nervous. He still had an erection. I wondered, a little, if maybe Tim was hoping to be pushed a little into the yellow.

"When's the date?" I said.

"That I don't know. He's going to tell me later." He pointed to my hand, "But now I understand what he meant when he said, 'Your wife is quite the tease.'"

"Fuck, so literal!" I said. "What did you think he meant?"

"What do you think?" He threw open his arms in mock exasperation.

"Oh, has he been hard all day? Did you imagine Allen throwing me over his desk and fucking me?"

Tim nodded as I stepped to him and rubbed my hand across his erection.

"Fuck," he panted.

"No, I can't" I said in my sex kitten tone, rubbing harder. He began to twitch.

"He said that..." Tim groaned under my touch.

"He said," I mewed, "We... can't... come. And you should know that I probably would come the moment he slid inside me."

As Tim's mouth opened and his breath stalled in his throat I pulled my hand away.

He bent over at the waist, panting. I laughed.

"How'd I do?" I said.

He put one finger up as a he breathed deeply. Finally, he rose up. He erection was still there and I didn't see any large pool of dark blue over it. There was just a small circle over where I knew the tip of his dick was. I smacked my lips and raised my eyebrows.

"That's how it's been for me all day, my dear husband. All fucking day."

He nodded his head, saying, "OK, OK. I give. But you're stronger than me."

"Clearly."

Through the evening and all through the night, each time my alarm went off, Tim would watch me bring myself to the edge for Sir. He even joined me. He sat up next to me licking his finger and rubbing it over the crown of his dick. Early in morning, after Tim had taken my picture, while I was cleaning my sticky fingers, I watched him swirl the pre-cum coming out of his dick.

I lifted my chin in his direction.

He looked at me, then understood. Hi put his thumb in his mouth. He sucked it clean.

"Before last night," I said, "You could have made me do that for you."

I curled up next to him. I rubbed my finger over his glans, getting it sticky. I reached up to my mouth but then turned my hand to him.

"From now on," I said, "It's only Sir's come for me."

As he sucked my finger, he moaned.

"Unless," I said, "Sir decides to punish me with yours."

I began softly running my fingers along Tim's dick.

"I wonder what punishment you'd face... for coming."

"Becky," he whimpered.

"I wonder if I would like watching it." I stroked harder.

Tim began to twitch, then he pulled away, "No, no. Becky, stop, please?!"

"Please?" I mocked. "That's what I'll say to him as I'm stroking him over my face."

"Oh, God, Becky." He was panting.

Then I realized maybe I got carried away. I reached up to touch his chest. "I'm sorry. That was mean. I'm just so... frustrated."

It was true. Being this close to coming and not being able to, amid all this interrupted sleep, was making me irritable. And I wanted to take it out on someone. And there was something about Tim's passivity now that made me want to push him harder, humiliate him more. 'Please' was tripping a switch because I would have preferred that he could dominate me. We were with Sir now because Tim couldn't do it. And as much as I lusted after Sir and looked forward to whatever he would do to me, my ideal man would be some combination of them both. It's like the more my lust arose, the more I blamed Tim for not being able to sate it.