Indentured Pervitude 09

Indentured Pervitude, Ch. 09

by Rachael DMM

While Tom was at the mirror tying his tie, Wendy slipped her new 4" black stiletto heels out of her bag. She only packed them in case Tom did something to piss her off, but they were just too tempting to pass up. And a fancy dinner in Naples was the perfect excuse to wear them.

Tom turned from the mirror, proud of his well-tied knot, took one look at his wife and his face fell. His eyes instantly went to her feet, where he saw the shiny black heels that had transformed her into some kind of Amazon compared to him. His brow furrowed and he appeared as if he was going to tell her to take them off. But then he remembered he wasn't in a position to tell her what to do anymore. That defeated look of awareness was almost enough to make her take pity on him. Almost...

"You ready?" she walked over to him with as much confidence as she could muster, just hoping she didn't stumble and ruin the whole effect. When he didn't answer, she took him by the arm and waited for him to lead her out for that fancy dinner he'd promised her.

He was silent for the elevator ride down, and the walk across the lobby. Wendy was gratified that she managed to turn a few heads along the way. Was it the high heels, or her scandalously low-cut dress?

When they got outside and the doorman signaled over a taxi, Tom cleared his throat. "You, um, look great tonight," he said humbly...looking up at her. It was very peculiar seeing him from that angle. The whole world looked different from up there.

"Thank you, my dear. You're looking quite handsome tonight yourself." She couldn't resist giving him a kiss on the forehead - not to rub in that she was standing taller than him, but just...to... okay, maybe she did want to rub it in just a little. They got in the taxi and headed away from the resort.

The Cantina del Sole was packed, but as they settled into their table it somehow felt intimately romantic. Wendy had that giddy feeling again. She just hoped she could keep her dress on this time. Tom ordered them a bottle of wine, which felt very manly of him. She was like a smitten schoolgirl as she admired how good looking Tom was in the glow of the candlelight. She would have felt guilty for all the embarrassment and humiliation she'd inadvertently caused him over the past weeks, and earlier that night, if she had been willing to give that any thought. But she wasn't willing...not at all.

Once the bottle arrived, and had been poured, Tom made an awkward toast and they sipped their wine. She didn't know anything much about wine, but it tasted good to her. They talked about nothing in particular - the wedding, the resort, Wendy's friend who was struggling through a divorce. Maybe divorce wasn't the best topic during a romantic honeymoon dinner she decided and quickly changed the subject. Should they consider getting a dog? Maybe a rescue? Or did she already have one too many pets around the house?

The waiter came by and rattled off the specials in Italian. Tom ordered a steak, and Wendy asked for a seafood pasta. She couldn't believe she was actually in Italy, and couldn't wait for the food to arrive. She had always heard that the restaurants here were legendary.

Wendy noticed there was a tablecloth. She could easily reach under it, pull Tom's cock out, and stroke him without anyone knowing what she was doing. As tempting as that was, now wasn't the time. She looked around to see if there were any other women pleasuring their dining companion under the table. It was hard to tell for sure, but there were a few suspects.

She tried to clear her mind. Why was she even thinking like that? Disgusting. She just needed to enjoy the evening for what it was, and there'd be plenty of time for sexy fun later when they were back in the privacy of their room where that sort of thing belonged.

Tom signaled a waiter over to the table. She wondered what he was up to - another manly gesture that was going to further soak her panties, perhaps?

"Hey, do you guys have any, like, I don't know...breadsticks or popcorn to snack on while we wait?"

The waiter looked confused, held up a finger, and then took off. Wendy was ready to die of embarrassment. This wasn't the Texas Roadhouse or The Olive Garden! What was he thinking?

The waiter returned with the maitre d'. "I'm sorry, sir, you would like something...special?"

"No," Wendy interrupted before Tom could repeat his ridiculous request. "We're fine. Thank you very much. Sorry to bother you."

The men gave slight bows and went away looking perplexed. Tom looked at her with his own expression of confusion.

"This is a fancy restaurant," Wendy hissed under her breath. "There's no sawdust on the floor, and there is no popcorn." There were also no handjobs under the table she silently chastised herself, but at least she hadn't asked the waiter if he had some lube so she could jerk off her husband before dinner arrived.

"Fine, whatever...I was just asking. If it was so fancy you'd think they'd have something."

That little tiff changed the tone of the evening for the worse. Tom was sullen and pouty. Maybe it was her fault for starting things off with the heels. But now Wendy was the one who was embarrassed and on edge, waiting for another clumsy faux pas. She caught the waiter's attention and indicated that he should bring them another bottle of wine. It was going to be one of those nights. She drained her glass and poured another for herself.

After an awkward span of time, the meals were delivered to the table with a flourish. Her dish looked delightful and she couldn't wait to try it. Before she could, Tom spoke up again. "Hey, do you guys have any steak sauce? I don't see any here on the table."

She cringed again. This wasn't one of those places that served hot leather on a plate that required steak sauce to give it some flavor. But, before she could stop him the waiter was off and conferring with the maitre d' again. She would just have to let this one go. She selected a succulent-looking shrimp to start, and it was like an orgasm for her mouth. She was ready to forgive just about anything after that. But then she saw it.

Out the window, over Tom's shoulder. It was their waiter running across the street to a little market. Moments later he came hurrying back carrying something he'd purchased at the store. He couldn't have, she thought.

The waiter showed up at their table, trying to hide the fact that he was slightly out of breath, and presented a bottle of steak sauce to Tom for his approval. It was a brand-new bottle, from across the street. Apparently, no one had ever been crass enough to ask for something like that here before. She wanted to disappear. Tom brightened, nodded, and thanked the waiter before cracking the bottle open and liberally ruining his very expensive steak with it.

There was nothing she could do about it, the damage was done. Wendy told herself to just ignore him and enjoy her own meal as best as she could. Next up was a choice-looking scallop, and it was even better than the shrimp. She was at risk of having an actual orgasm before the end of this meal, which she wasn't at all opposed to.

Tom cut into his steak and took a big bite. His face went slack and he looked down at his meal with a sneer. Wendy knew this wasn't going to be good. He grabbed the waiter as he passed.

"Is a problem, sir?" the waiter asked in heavily accented English, genuinely concerned.

"There sure is, muchacho. This thing is too well done."

"You ask for to be medium, no?"

"Yeah, but if this is your chef's idea of medium he needs to go back to cooking school."

"I am sorry, sir," he took up the plate. "I have another prepare right away." The waiter scurried away toward the kitchen, and Wendy just bit her tongue and tried to let it go as she picked a mussel out of its shell. It was divine.

It wasn't long before the waiter was back with Tom's meal. "Medium, as you request, sir."

"Good," Tom said abruptly, and cut into his new steak. "Oh, hell no. Look, this thing is still mooing."

"What is the...mooing?"

"This isn't medium. It's barely even rare. Take it back."

The waiter looked sincerely pained by this. Wendy had had enough. "Leave it."

"What?" Tom protested.

"It's fine, he'll eat it like that."

The waiter was torn not knowing whom to listen to, but Tom spoke up again before he could do anything. "No, I don't want this. We're paying a lot of money in this dump, and I want a decent meal. Is that too much to ask?"

She ignored him and addressed the waiter over Tom's head as if he were a child. "I'm so sorry. Please don't pay attention to him, the steak is perfect. And, please, take this away." She handed him the bottle of steak sauce. "He doesn't need it." The waiter's eyes told her how grateful he was that someone at the table understood.

"But this isn't done enough - they undercooked it on purpose."

"They did no such thing," Wendy scolded him. "Now quiet down and eat your food."

"I won't and you can't make me." He picked up his plate and tried to hand it off to the waiter.

Wendy was fed up with this little tantrum of his. She didn't even care that their silly drama had become the center of attention for the tables around them. They were suddenly the proverbial ugly Americans.

She took out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it up for the waiter to see. "He will eat his meal as is, or he will go hungry tonight. We won't bother you again. Thank you so much, and I'm sorry for...for everything."

The waiter was about to go fetch the maitre d' again but then recognized what Wendy was showing him. His face went blank, and he had to resist looking at Tom. He nodded toward Wendy and spoke quietly, "I understand. I am sorry...for...for about everything. Please, enjoy you meal." And he was gone before anything else could be said.

Tom was furious and wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. "What the fuck was that? What did you just show him?"

Wendy hesitated, then turned her screen to him. He leaned in and saw an official-looking type of digital seal and below that what looked like his passport picture. "Okay...yeah...?"

"It's my owner's certificate. It designates you as my...property."

"So you carry that around some kind of slave license?"

Wendy shrugged and put her phone away. "Just eat your food, and let's not worry about all that right now. Please."

Tom made a noise low down in his throat. Was that a growl? But he didn't say anything more...not for the rest of the meal. And, he very conspicuously didn't eat his steak as some kind of impotent act of defiance. The au gratin potatoes, and the fagioli verdi he ate, but refused to touch the steak. Let him be a big baby if he wanted to, she thought. She polished off her third glass of wine and reached for the bottle.

~ ~ ~

They had to walk to the dock and take a water taxi back to the resort. Wendy was feeling good and had to rely on Tom to keep her upright. Despite the unpleasantness of dinner, she was in a good mood, thanks in large part to the wine. That, and there was something about Italy that just seemed to agree with her. There was also something about her shoes that didn't! She wasn't about to admit to Tom how much her feet were hurting, but it was so worth it to be able to wear a pair of sexy heels for a change.

"Oh, look! A sex shop! Let's see if it's still open." She grabbed Tom's hand and dragged him toward the alley that was lit up with pink neon. The sign over the door said "Zou Zou" and the mannequins in the window were dressed in revealing lingerie of lace and leather. She'd never been in a real sex shop before, she looked around to see if anyone spotted them going in.

"What are we even doing here?" Tom grumbled.

"I told you, I want to get a dildo."

"You were serious about that?"

"Very." She looked around the shop and felt like a kid in a candy store...a very horny kid in a very dirty candy store. "They're over there in the corner. You can go ahead and look around while I pick one out," she said and left him standing there. She had only ever ordered toys online before, so she was excited to see them in person before choosing one this time.

Wendy was confronted by a wall of phallic devices designed to gratify her vagina in all manner of ways. It was almost overwhelming. She had to narrow down what she wanted. She dearly missed her vibrators, but she also didn't want to have to deal with the hassle of batteries - were they even the same here in Europe? Okay, so just a basic dong...but a big one.

She whittled her options down to three after about ten minutes. The first was a plain, long cylinder in purple with a bit of a bulge at the end. That one seemed simple enough. Then there was a flesh-colored one that was vaguely shaped like a penis. That would definitely do the trick in a pinch. But, there was one other...and that one was disturbingly alluring.

For starters, it looked just like a real penis, with balls and all. There was a suction cup at the base for some odd reason. And it was big. Much bigger than the one she had at home, and even bigger than the other two options. But that wasn't what scared her. It was the fact that it was black, or, more accurately, dark brown.

Not that it should matter, but could she really buy that? What would it say about her if she did? What would the clerk at the counter think? Would Tom even allow her to have such a thing? If she had been worried about him being jealous of her toys at home, how would a big, black, life-like dildo make him feel? He was there behind her, and she was startled when he spoke.

"I was looking at some things. I was thinking about getting a cock ring. Would you like to give that a try?"

"Oh...yeah...sure, I guess. Do they make them that small?"

Tom's jaw clenched, and she instantly realized the slip she'd made. Did she just undo all those years of telling him how big his cock was and how she could barely handle it when he was inside of her? He just walked away and stood by the register.

Well, if he saw her buying a huge black dildo, he might get a clue that she could handle a lot more than what he had to offer. Besides, there was no longer a reason to be overly concerned with his ego. It was about time for him to start thinking about stroking her ego for a change. She grabbed the black mega-dildo and headed to the check-out counter.

"What do you think of this one?" She held the realistic dong up in front of his face.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, then realized she wasn't joking. "Um...I guess...if that's what you think you really want..."

She looked at it and considered what she should say. "Yeah, this is what I want. What I really, really want." She tried to ignore the fact that she sounded like a sex-starved Spice Girl and paid for her purchase. The cool chick behind the register with the Betty Page haircut gave her a knowing smile along with an encouraging wink. No judgment there. She walked out of the store feeling better about everything, and couldn't wait to get back to the room.

"Would it be okay...if, y'know...?" Tom muttered as they headed for the dock.

"If what?"

"If, maybe, it would be okay if I watch you...use it...I mean?"

Her first instinct was to say no, but then she reminded herself that she didn't need to hide her masturbation activities any longer. In fact, letting him watch might actually feed into her newly acquired exhibitionism fetish - if that's what it even was.

"Sure, why not? But I don't want you on the bed with me while I fuck myself. You can watch from a distance, as long as you don't say anything."

He nodded, but it didn't seem like that was exactly what he was envisioning when he made his proposal. "But, can I...?"

"Jerk off?" She thought about it. "You know what, you've been a pretty good boy for the past week - not counting tonight. I'll allow it. You can watch me masturbate with my new toy and jerk off, but only if you clean up your own mess."

"Like before?"

"Exactly. I want to see you eat your own cum...again."

He really didn't like the sound of that, but now Wendy was even more excited to get back. She didn't even try to hide the bag she was carrying that blatantly advertised that she had been to a sex shop that evening. She got a few looks from the other passengers on the water taxi - the men mostly leered at her suggestively, while one of the wives, probably British, did all she could to let her know that she did not approve of such a wanton display of immorality - even though she had no idea what was in the bag. It just happened to be a coincidence that she was right.

~ ~ ~

"Get naked, and stand over there," Wendy ordered as soon as they were in the room. She took her purchase into the bathroom, washed it with soap and water, stripped naked, and noticed that she had pretty much drenched her panties over the course of the trip back to the resort.

She worried for a moment that she didn't buy any lube. This dildo was bigger than anything she'd put in her vagina before. Then she felt herself down there and was pretty sure she was wet enough to handle it...no lube required.

Wendy came back into the room and was pleased to see that Tom was naked and standing in the spot she had indicated, waiting patiently. "I want to see that cock hard before I start," she said flatly and went to the sliding glass door. She looked across the way, hoping to catch a glimpse. Their room was dark.

Maybe they were out - probably dancing, or at the very least having a drink. She sighed, then had a worrying thought. What if they met another couple? What if they were over there right now with the lights off in the midst of a torrid foursome? Wendy's heart ached. Never had she experienced FOMO so acutely - and she wasn't even sure she was missing out on anything.

She put the other couple out of her mind and got on the bed. She touched herself. Caressed her modest breasts, ran her hands down over her belly, dragged her nails up along her widely spread thighs. It felt good, but it could be better.

"Turn that light on," she said, and Tom quickly obeyed. Her nakedness was now on tawdry display. She was no longer just a glorified accountant, a sexless prude, or even a respectable lady. She was a freak. A slut showing herself off. Wendy reached out for the dildo and easily found it - it was too big to miss. Was she ready for this?

"I'm going to fuck myself," she told the mystery man standing near the light, his face masked by shadows. "I'm going to shove this up inside me. In my little hole. Do you want to see that?"

"Yes," the stranger answered, a slight quaver in his voice. "Please."

"You see this pussy?" she arched her body up off the bed and brandished her crotch toward him aggressively. "You want to eat that pussy? You want to suck this clit, right here?" She splayed her lips open brazenly. This wasn't like her at all, but it felt wonderful - like she was an actress playing a role. The role of a shameless whore.

"Yes," he said, swallowing hard. She knew he was lying for her sake, but she'd take it.

"Jerk that cock. Watch me slide this big, black dick into my pussy and make yourself come for me." She placed the fat tip of the dildo against her opening and doubted her earlier confidence. No way was this thing going to fit. She rubbed it along her slit and tried to relax.

If vaginas were capable of pushing babies out, then she should be able to push this thing in. That thought gave her a measure of courage. With a sense of determination, she zeroed in on her hole...her delicate, tight, little hole...and pushed. Nothing happened at first, but then she unclenched her muscles down there and something moved. It moved. The tip was in!

But it was just the tip. With renewed conviction, she pushed harder and tried to breathe. Shit that hurt! But she didn't make a sound. Wendy didn't want to think that she'd made a mistake - that she'd bitten off more than she could fuck. She gritted her teeth and tried again. And something suddenly gave. It was in - really in!