Midlife Surrender Ch. 05

It was a warm mid November morning in central Florida, and Amy Marshall was making her way slowly through the lingerie section of a local store. As was often the case, Amy's husband was out of town on business for a few days, and Amy was left home to 'hold down the fort.'

Typically, the weeks when Brad was away on business were good weeks for Amy, weeks when she was free to let the slut in her run wild, weeks when she didn't have to invent reasons to be with Stuart Chambers, the 19 year-old boy who'd been dominating her life for about 2 and-a-half months now. This week promised to be no different.

It was a bit after noon when Amy returned home, entering the house through the garage door and making her way to the kitchen. She deposited the bags containing her 'take' for the day -- a new bra, a couple pairs of sexy panties, some nylons, a skirt and two tops -- on the center island, then moved towards the sink. That's when she saw the piece of paper lying on the counter.

She picked up the paper and unfolded it, then leaned back against the counter and started to read:

'You are to meet me at Murphy's tonight at 6:00 sharp. Your clothing for the evening is laid out in the bedroom. You are permitted to bring a purse, but other than that, you are to wear exactly what you find on the bed, absolutely nothing more, and absolutely nothing less. And make sure you park in the same spot.'

"Derek's home!" Amy gasped.

Derek was Amy's first master, the young man who first taught her the wonderful world of surrender and submission, the young man she served before Stuart, and the young man she'd never truly forget. After all, in a strange sort of way, Derek was her first. And as everyone knows, you never completely get over your first.

She didn't for a minute question that the unsigned note was from him. After all, not only was Murphy's the grill and bar Derek took her to when he first took control of her, he also had his own key to the house and had assured her he'd make it home at Thanksgiving. He just happened to be a few days earlier than she'd expected, that's all.

With the note still in her hand, she turned and hurried to the Master Bedroom, eager to see just how her master planned on displaying her that evening. Truthfully, she couldn't say she was surprised at what she saw, nor was she surprised at what she didn't see.

The first thing she noticed was the brown print wrap-around skirt which, while it wouldn't exactly qualify as a mini-skirt, did manage to leave several inches of her shapely thighs on display. Sitting to one side of the skirt was a pair of her sexiest white panties -- a very tiny pair. On the other side sat her favorite brown stiletto shoes, the ones with the open toe and dainty strap that wrapped around the ankle. On the far side of the bed lay a semi-sheer white-on-white sleeveless blouse with a straight cut waist that would just barely cover the top of her skirt. Conspicuously missing were nylons and bra, which meant her legs and pussy would be easily accessible to her master's hands, and her breasts and nipples, while not exactly on wide open display, would be far more exposed than was proper -- even by Amy's very loose standards. And a small shiver shot through her spine.

It wasn't until she was about to turn away from the bed that she saw the final piece of her attire, a small, remote control vibrating egg like the one Derek had first used on her, laying atop her pillow. The remote itself, however, was nowhere to be seen. And another shiver shot through her body as lowered herself to the bed.

* * *

Amy spent the rest of the afternoon moving anxiously about the house, trying just about anything to get her mind off of Derek and all the things he might do to her that evening. None of her attempts at distraction worked, however, and by the time she started getting ready it was all she could do to keep from ripping her clothes off and digging her fingers into her pussy.

She allowed extra time to get ready. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was keep the young man waiting. Even so, it was a couple minutes before 5:30 when she finally looked in the mirror and pronounced herself a complete and utter slut!'

By the time she backed the car out of the driveway it was 5:35, and by the time she approached the bar it was 5:55. Just enough time to park and fix her face. When she finally slid through the front door of Murphy's, the clock over the bar indicated 6:00 on the button.

Before the door could even close behind her, Amy's eyes were moving to the booth at the back of the bar. She could see that the booth was occupied by one lone man, but set in the shadows as he was and facing away from the door, she couldn't make out his face.

"Party of one?" the young waitress by the door asked, breaking her train of thought.

Amy turned her head towards the young woman, keeping her body at an angle and her purse strategically placed in hopes of not drawing too much attention to her state of dress. "I'm supposed to meet someone," she replied, noting that it wasn't the same waitress that waited on them the first time. She wondered if that was good or bad.

"Oh, yes," the waitress replied. "I believe your party is already here. He insisted on the large booth in the back." Then she dropped her eyes to take in Amy's attire. "If you'll just follow me," she said, shaking her head slightly from side to side.

When the waitress turned and started towards the back, Amy took one long, deep breath to calm her nerves. "Here goes," she whispered under her breath. And then she started after the young woman. She hadn't taken two steps when the figure in the back booth turned to face her for the first time.

"Oh, my God," Amy gasped, a mere second before the vibrating egg in her pussy jumped suddenly to life.

* * *

Seeing the look on his wife's face when she suddenly realized that it wasn't Derek she was meeting, but her own husband, and seeing her body react when he turned the vibrating egg on high brought a wicked little smile to Brad Marshall's face. But it was a smile that quickly disappeared. After all, all those weeks of stress and grief could not be assuaged quite so easily. No, that would take some time, and the night was still young.

It had been late summer or early fall when Derek first began sensing that something in Amy's world had changed. At first it was just a feeling, an instinct, a gnawing in the pit of his stomach telling him that something wasn't right, that something was different. But it wasn't until after the seed was firmly planted in his mind that he actually started noticing specifics, like her hushed voice while talking on the phone, or her comings and goings at unusual hours with what at best would be described as flimsy explanations. And for the first time in their relationship, Brad began to wonder if he wasn't on the verge of losing her.

Once he recovered from his original fear, he began taking a closer look at their relationship, and the closer he looked, the more he wondered how they'd managed to keep it together as long as they had. After all, he had a preference for men and didn't hesitate to pursue that preference on his many business trips, while his wife definitely had a bit of 'tramp' in her and had never willingly denied herself the pleasures of the body.

But that was only part of it. What made their relationship even stranger -- in his mind, at least -- was the fact that they never, ever addressed the subject with each other, even though he had very little doubt that she knew as much about his secret life as he knew about hers. But suddenly, it was beginning to look like maybe that wasn't such a good foundation for a marriage after all.

Over the ensuing weeks, Brad's fears and trepidation continued to grow, ultimately bringing him to the point where he just had to do something. That's when he started snooping through her things, and that's when he found the diary buried deep in the files of her laptop.

The diary dated back to late June, and the first line of the first entry pretty much said it all; 'Yesterday I became a slut-toy, and Derek Strong, a neighborhood boy barely half my age, became my Master.'

At first, all he could do was stare at the screen, reading that one line over and over and over in absolute disbelief. 'Derek Strong?' he thought. 'Her Master? Why, the boy's not even 19 years old.'

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then he opened them and began to read. And he didn't stop until he'd read the entire account of his wife's journey into subservience and submission.

Once finished, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and tried to sort through his thoughts. It wasn't as if she'd betrayed him, not exactly, anyway. It was more like she'd crossed a line that, up until that point, neither of them even knew existed. Beyond that, he could tell from the tone of her writing that Amy was obsessed with her new life, more obsessed than he could ever remember her being, and the thought entered his mind that she might not be willing to walk away from it, even to save her marriage. And a queasy feeling began churning through the pit of his stomach.

After that day, the thought of what he'd read, and what it might mean was with him constantly. He began watching Amy closer than ever before, and became acutely aware of any oddities in her day to day activities. For the first time in his career, he even tried to minimize his business travel schedule so he could spend more time at home. But nothing he did could put the haunting feeling to rest that he needed to do something drastic, and he needed to do it soon. The only question was, what?

It was a simple question, just one little word. 'What?" But it was a question that had remained unanswered until just last week when, after rereading the diary for the umpteenth time, it finally came to him. And for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crept across his face. Maybe he'd been approaching the problem from the wrong direction. If you can't beat 'em . . .

* * *

The egg continued to vibrate wildly in her pussy for a good four or five seconds before it finally switched off, freeing Amy from her temporary paralysis. Suddenly concerned that she'd been standing there long enough to draw unwanted attention to herself, she quickly surveyed the room, then began the long, nervous walk to her husband's booth.

As she neared the booth, Brad rose to his feet and turned to face her, blocking the last few steps to the booth. Several seconds of silence ensued, with each looking deeply into the other's eyes, before Brad finally stepped aside and gestured towards the seat.

"Can I get you something to drink?" the waitress asked Amy, noting that Brad's drink was still full.

"The lady will have a Chardonnay," Brad answered before Amy could even open her mouth.

"I'll bring that right over."

Amy took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she began sorting through the situation, trying to find some evidence that might suggest that her husband had not seen her diary. But the list of coincidences, while short, was quite damning.

First of all, while she knew Brad occasionally frequented Murphy's with clients, he certainly hadn't been there with her. And he'd never, ever taken her out in anything as slutty as what he'd laid out for her earlier on the bed. Further, knowing full well that she drank rum and diet cokes when they went out, he nonetheless ordered her a chardonnay, the very same drink Derek had ordered for her all those months ago. And then there was the vibrating egg.

No, it was obvious Brad had seen her diary. Now the question was, what did he intend to do about it. And an uneasy feeling began creeping across her body as she turned her head towards her husband and opened her mouth to speak.

"No!" Brad said in an authoritative voice, raising a single finger in the air before the first syllable had left her mouth. "I'm really not interested in what you have to say. If I ask you a question, I'll expect an answer. Otherwise you are not to say a word. Understand?"

She almost challenged him, but stopped short, biting her lower lip as she tried to think. This was not the Brad Marshall she'd known, she reasoned, and certainly not the Brad Marshall she'd married. That Brad Marshall was a kind, loving man. And at the moment, there was very little love and kindness in face of the man beside her. So, as she saw it, she had two choices. She could stand firm and possibly put their marriage at risk, or she could weather the storm and hope for the best. Deciding on the latter, she nodded her head slowly up and down.

"I said, if I ask you a question, I expect an answer.," Brad countered. "And if I'm not mistaken, I just asked you a question. So, one more time, do you or do you not understand?"

Amy swallowed deeply, becoming more confused, more frightened, with each passing moment. "Yes, I understand," she finally answered, lowering her eyes to the table before her. But despite the fear that was coursing through her veins, she couldn't help noticing the twinge that shot through her pussy as she submitted to her husband's authority.

"Good," Brad said. Then he turned his attention to the waitress as she made her way across the room with Amy's chardonnay.

The waitress slid the glass in front of Amy, then turned to Brad. "Would you care for menus?"

Brad shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We'll both have the Turkey Club with Fries. Oh, and there's no need to rush," he smiled, his gaze shifting to his wife. "We're in no hurry, are we, dear?"

"No, Sir," Amy responded, the 'sir' flowing automatically from her lips. And she couldn't help remembering that Derek had also ordered them the Turkey Club with Fries, and he had also informed the waitress not to hurry.

"Very well," the waitress said. Then she turned and headed for the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Brad turned to his wife, positioning his body to shield her as much as possible from the rest of the restaurant, and lowered his eyes to her blouse. "You look rather slutty tonight, dear. It's a good look for you."

Amy took a deep breath. "Thank you," she replied softly, not really knowing if she'd been paid a compliment or not, but correctly surmising that a response was expected.

"Still," Brad continued, "you don't look completely comfortable. Perhaps if you unbuttoned the top two buttons."

Amy lowered her eyes to her blouse, confirming that releasing two buttons would leave her open to the middle of her cleavage. 'So what's the story here?' she thought. 'Are you trying to teach me a lesson, or do you just want to see how far I'll go?' She took a deep breath. 'Well, let's find out.' And with a deliberate slowness, she reached for her buttons and freed first one button, then the next. And then she waited.

Brad stared at the front of his wife's chest for a moment, then reached out, slipped his hand just inside the now open vee and spread it wider. Then he shook his head.

"Perhaps one more," he said, a controlling smile slipping across his lips.

A quiver shot through Amy's body as she realized that freeing one more button would expose her cleavage well below her breasts. Nevertheless, she reached for the button and slipped it free.

This time when Brad slipped his hand between the open lapels, he pushed them wide enough to expose a good amount of her breasts, then he slowly slid the hand over the exposed flesh, under the blouse and onto her right tit. And then he squeezed.

"Better," he said a moment later. "Don't you agree?"

Amy swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes, Sir," she replied, slipping a bit deeper into her submissive role.

She made no protest as Brad fondled her breast for several more seconds, but a short gasp did escape her mouth when he slid the blouse off to the side to completely expose the orb. And then, when his hand finally returned to her breast, she lowered her eyes to the bare breast in shock.

"You really do have beautiful breasts, you know," he teased, brushing his fingers lightly across her fully exposed nipple. "Maybe even nice enough to turn a gay man straight."

Amy lifted her head from her breast and turned to catch her husband's eye. "Please," she whispered. "Not like this. Not here."

"Why dear," Brad replied facetiously. "I pay you a glowing compliment and you don't even have the good graces to acknowledge it." He shook his head slowly from side to side, even as he continued to play with her erect nipple. "I must say, I'm very disappointed in you. I would have thought Derek and Stuart would have done a better job of training you than that."

Amy shot her eyes around the room quickly, confirming that, for the moment at least, no one could see her, then brought them back to Brad and swallowed deeply. "Thank you," she managed to whisper. "You're to kind."

Brad waited a second, then nodded his head. "Better." Then he removed his hand and slid the blouse back over her breast, but only enough to cover her nipple and part of her areola. Then he lowered his eyes to her skirt.

"You look warm, dear. Why don't you unwrap your skirt a bit."

A chill ran down Amy's spine at her husband's words. Then she shook her head slowly. "No, please," she pleaded in a voice that was barely audible. "I can't."

Brad let out a small snicker. "It wasn't really a suggestion, sweet-heart." And then he slipped one hand onto his wife's shoulder while the other hand slid into his pocket. An instant later Amy's body jumped against his hand as the egg sprang to life in her pussy -- full power. And for ten long seconds he held her shoulder firmly while she shivered against it. And then the egg went still.

"You bared your pussy to Derek right here in this very booth," Brad whispered as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Now you're either going to unwrap the skirt for me. or I'm going to expose both of your breasts -- right here, and right now." And then he began easing his hand slowly from her shoulder, pulling her blouse with it, not stopping until the breast was once again completely uncovered. And then he moved his hand to her other shoulder.

Amy lowered her gaze to her bare breast in stunned silence, then lifted eyes back to Brad. She knew from experience that the dark confines of the back corner of the room would serve to mask most anything that may happen under the table. But her breasts? No. It was only a matter of time before someone -- a waitress, a bus-boy, the manager -- ventured within sight.

She closed her eyes and took a long slow breath. Then, just as she felt his hand slipping down her other shoulder with her blouse in tow, she opened them and nodded her head quickly.

"Okay," she gasped. "I'll do it."

Brad stopped his hand, then slid it back up her shoulder. And then he reached around and recovered the other breast, before returning his gaze to Amy and nodding his head.

Amy hesitated a second, then took a deep breath and lowered her hands to her skirt, even as her mind was wondering how things could possibly have gotten so out of hand. But as nervous and scared as she was, the thought of getting up and walking out never entered her mind.

The skirt itself was held together by two simple buttons along the waist. She freed the first button, then moved her hand slowly to the second and slipped it free. Then she hesitated long enough to cast one more glance towards her husband. But when her glance was met only by his hard, steely blue eyes, she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and peeled the skirt open, leaving her covered below the waist by nothing but her high-heel shoes and a very sexy, very tiny pair of panties.

Brad admired her for a moment, then reached his hand down to her center, nodding approvingly when she parted her legs without being told. Then he turned the egg onto the low setting and began tracing his fingers around the outline of her hot, swollen lips through her panties.