My Slut Wife Life Ch. 02

"Like this," he responded, as if responding about the weather, or the price of lumber, or some other mundane matter. And not that he was asking, no, telling his wife to spend the rest of the day mostly nude and covered in cum. While doing god knew what. Because my plans to spend the afternoon curled up with a good book were clearly not going to happen.

Amazingly, I complied. I say 'amazingly,' because I still could've stopped things. Could've said 'fuck you,' gotten dressed and stormed out. But now my curiosity was piqued. So far, what he wanted me to do wasn't all that bad. It wasn't anything we hadn't done before. Just in a different place. At a different time of day. And presented to me in a different manner. I didn't like being ordered around. But I didn't exactly hate it, either.

Despite his admonition, I did wipe the cum from my forehead later. Cum in the eye stings badly. Don't believe me? Try it some time.

The thunderstorms blew through quickly, as the weatherman had predicted. We had some good booms, and the rain violently lashed the windows. I had my chance to curl up with a book while it was raining. We were like any other couple on a rainy afternoon. He in his chair, watching TV. Me in my chair, reading a book. Both of us sipping a soda and snacking on crackers. Except I was almost naked, and he was fully dressed. A small deviation, but an important one.

The sky cleared up almost immediately after the rain ended, and the sun quickly began to dry up the puddles. My husband was just as quickly busy at work on some project or another on the deck, leaving me to enjoy my book. Except I couldn't really enjoy it. I found myself reading the same page over and over again, while my mind wondered when the next ax would fall. What did he have in mind for me? Why was he keeping me topless? I could imagine being forced to do all kinds of perverted things. From the harmless, like cooking him dinner in the nude. To the kinky, like him eating his dinner off my nude body. To the fantastical, like never letting me wear clothing again.

Each seemed equally likely. I could no longer guess what was fantastic and what was possible. Worse, the thought of any or all of those turned me on like nothing had ever turned me on before. Sitting there, imagining my fate, turned out to be the biggest aphrodisiac I'd ever had. My pussy was wetter than ever, and I found myself absently rubbing my clit and tits as my imagination ran away with me, over and over again.

It was almost a relief when he finally called for me. Almost. Because he wanted me to join him out on the deck. In the daytime. Half nude. Now, the odds of my being spotted by any neighbors were very slim. Our house sits nearly in the middle of five acres of land. The front of the house is a couple hundred yards from the gravel residential road. To the left, as you're facing that road, is a county road, that's separated from our land by a stand of trees and thick underbrush. You'd have to stop your car and peer through the trees to get a look at our house. To the rear is another stand of trees, about a hundred yards of woods, which lets out to another neighbor's yard. It's thick enough that we've never tromped through there to get to their house. It's easier to drive.

To the right are our nearest neighbors. Their house is about a hundred yards from ours. A few trees mark the boundary between our land and theirs, but not enough to really obstruct the view. We're close enough that on a winter night, during one of those Midwestern snowstorms, we can see them moving around through their windows. It's a reassuring sight, knowing that help is nearby, should you need it.

Now, though, it wasn't their help I was hoping for. It was their absence. Because if they were in the back, prowling around in the gardens or on their deck, they'd definitely spot me. And if they looked closely enough, they might even see that my tits were hanging out for the whole world to ogle.

"Strip," he ordered, as I stepped out onto the deck. To say that I was nervous would be an understatement. It's one thing to have your tits out. I'd even flashed them at Mardi Gras for a bunch of cheap beads. But now anyone who wanted to would be able to see my bare pussy, my swollen pussy lips, and maybe even the dripping hole inside. I'd be completely vulnerable.

I did it though. Pushed my soaked panties down and kicked them away. Stood there, half shy and half bold, wanting to know what he finally had in mind for me. He told me to lay down, and once I did, he pulled my legs far apart and had me scoot forward until my feet were touching the bottom of the deck railing. That's when I realized what he had in mind.

He was tying me to the deck! He tied ropes around my ankles and secured them to the deck rails, so I couldn't close my legs. Then he did the same to my wrists, securing the ropes to hooks he attached along the back of the deck. I was tied down, spread-eagled, naked, and completely unable to move or free myself.

The thing about our deck is that it's in the full sun for most of the day. During the deep summer, we put up umbrellas to create some shade. But at this point, we hadn't taken them out of storage. So the sun was beating down on me. And I immediately began to sweat.

He stood over me, and I found it hard to focus on him because of the brightness of the sun behind his head. "You've been such a good slut, almost completely willing, that I've decided to reward you for your good behavior," he started, shading my face with his body. "I hope you'll let me know how much you enjoy it."

There was nothing for me to say to that. He hadn't really told me anything, and I couldn't guess what he had in mind from it. All I could do was wait. Literally. That was all I could do.

He crouched between my legs, and only by stretching my neck could I see what he was doing. He had tape. He had an extension cord. And he had... he had my masturbator. It's the kind you see in porn movies. A heavy-duty wand with a big white head. It doesn't go inside you pussy. Just stays outside, vibrating your clit until you come and come and come. It has never failed to get the job done for me. And now he was taping it to the inside of my leg, with the big white head resting against my pussy slit.

Mine have five speeds. Three speeds of buzzing vibration, and two separate speeds of pulsating vibration. I usually start with the middle buzzing speed, then change to the harshest pulsing speed to push me over the edge.

He started me off at the lowest buzzing speed. It felt weird sitting against my slit, me not being able to work it around, to keep one part from being over-stimulated, or to give attention to another part that was crying out for attention. Just that buzzing against my slit. The head just about reached my clit. But not quite.

He sat in a chair, enjoying a beer, watching the sun make me sweat and the vibrator make me squirm. I found I could rock my hips and arch my back to get my butt off the hot deck, but I couldn't move or dislodge the wand strapped to my thigh.

The buzzing continued. I could feel juices flowing out of my pussy. Or maybe it was just sweat. I tried to keep my eyes clamped shut against the glare of the sun, but every time he moved around, I had to look and see if he was doing anything. It was like a compulsion.

Just when I thought the vibrator had turned my cunt numb, he got up and switched it to the next higher setting. The new stimulation was like a fire brand searing into my raw pussy lips. I imagined them getting scalded. The heat radiated throughout my body.

The buzzing continued. My hips started twitching and bucking up and down of their own volition. Lava couldn't have been hotter than the wetness oozing from between my legs. I could smell myself, the odor of hot cunt mixed with hot sweat mixed with a large dollop of desperation. Why was he doing this to me? Why not just make me pleasure myself inside the house, where he could watch me cum, maybe even help me cum? I asked myself those questions over and over, but never got an answer. I couldn't concentrate on them. Every effort to think became mixed up with the incessant buzzing between my legs.

I think it was the not concentrating that gave me the answer. Or maybe the dizziness from the sun. Or the desperate need for sexual release. Or all three. Or none of the above. Whatever. I finally had the answer that had eluded me all day.

It was this: He was being the master I'd always fantasized about having. I'd talked about how much fun it would be to be under someone's complete sexual control. I'd shared my fantasies about being kidnapped and held in a dungeon, or strapped to a bed. About being used and shared and forced to do all the things I didn't have the guts to try in real life. And often, after I'd shared my fantasies, he, in his awkward way, had tried to recreate some of those. He'd tried to play at being my master. At ordering me around and being mean and cruel and loving and domineering. And it had never worked.

It was a question of permission. It had taken us a while to figure it out. In essence, if he asks me if he can be my master, then the very act of asking makes it impossible for him to truly act the way he should. If I give him permission, then I'm not really living the life of a slave, I'm just playing at one. And under those circumstances, the roles we assume aren't nearly as intense. And, since we were married and truly cared for one another, it was hard for him to treat me with any kind of cruelty, even in a good cause.

He must've gotten over that prohibition, I thought, as the stimulation from between my legs began to reach throughout my body. Even though I tried to silence my lips, little mewls of pleasure escaped my mouth. What if the neighbors were home? Would the sound of my sex echo through the neighborhood?

I watched helplessly as he bent and switched to the next level. The new stimulation took me to a higher level, and I screamed a cry of ecstasy and anguish. I wanted to cum so, so, so, so bad. Another wave of explosive pleasure swept through me, and my back arched as my muscles spasmed. The head of the vibrator was just a touch too low. If I could just raise it an inch, I could be off this plateau and surfing the peaks of orgasmic pleasure.

"Master," I gasped, my mouth dry from the panting and the sun. "Please..." I couldn't finish my plea, as another wave rolled through me, leaving my body tense and exhausted at the same time.

"So. You finally figured it out, eh slut?" he asked, a smile in his voice. "Figured out that you're now just a piece of fuck meat for me?"

"Ya, ya, yes," I stammered, as a series of small orgasm shuddered through me. I thought I could feel a wetness running along my legs. Had I squirted somewhere along the line, and not noticed? It would take just the touch of his finger to set me off. But I wanted, desperately needed, something more. His cock. Rigid and thick. Penetrating my cunt and pushing me over the edge. Clamped between my pussy lips and massaged by the muscles in my slit. My twat. My hot little box. I wanted him in me more than I ever wanted anything ever before.

"This can be the beginning, or the end," he stated, using his foot to play with my sensitive tits. "If you agree, we'll keep going down this path. If not, we'll go back to where we were."

I struggled to concentrate. How could he expect me to make any kind of decision in this state? My cunt was throbbing, literally pulsing, as I slowly, slowly got closer to a final orgasm. I wanted to cum so badly! And he wanted me to decide?

It was if he could read my mind. "I know it's tough for you to think clearly, with your whore body betraying you, making you into a cunt-dripping slut. But think about it for just a minute. Wouldn't you want to keep having adventures, instead of going back to just having sex once a week? You're ready to give in, aren't you? Ready to give in to your desires and become what you've always known you are."

I squirmed around on the deck, the buzzing driving me mad with desire. My ass scraped along the wood, and even that felt good, adding to the tension now surrounding my cunt. So close. So close! I let out a yell, a scream of pleasure that resounded off the back of the house, echoing into the woods. More followed. I didn't care who heard me now. I wanted everything. I wanted his lips clamped atop my nipples. His cock raping my cunt. His fingers thrust in my anus. His hands around my neck. His fist twisting my hair. His palm slapping my ass. His toes desecrating my pussy. His flesh in my mouth. I wanted it all. I wanted all of it at the same time.

Suddenly, he reached down and dropped the vibrator level to the lowest setting. I whimpered in disappointment. What new torture was this? Then he moved across the deck, down the steps and out of view. In the direction of the neighbors house.

I stretched my neck to see. Through the sweat stinging my eyes, I spotted our neighbor approaching the tree line separating our lot from his. My husband met him there. Though the vibrator between my legs was making it hard to think, I was lucid enough to realize that they were talking about me! The naked wife, tied to the deck, howling and whimpering like a tortured animal. Would my husband ask him to come over and witness my degradation close up? If he had, I would've begged him for a touch to my pussy that would've pushed me over the edge. I was that desperate.

He returned to the deck, a grim smile on his face. "Our neighbor thinks you have nice tits," he stated, pushing at one of my boobs with his foot.

He didn't say that, did he? I didn't know. Could he see the deck from there? See that I was stretched out upon it? Hear my panting and cries of ecstasy as they left my lips? Was her over there now, waiting for the inevitable screams that would signal my final release? The worry filled me with even more lust.

"So. Where were we? Oh, yes. You were about to admit that you're a submissive slut in need of discipline and training. And that you belong completely to me." He peered down at me with a malicious grin on his face. "No, you don't have to answer now. There's plenty of time for that. But, what you do have to decide is what you would do to cum. Because I can keep you on this edge for a long, long time."

What would I do? I'd do anything! My pussy was on fire. My toes were curling. My nipples felt like someone had been sucking them for hours. My hips and legs ached from the tension. My mouth was dry from panting and whining. Sweat was pooled between my tits and dripped in rivers down my sides. My hair was plastered to my forehead. And lightning bolts were shooting out from my cunt and into all my extremities, turning me into an addict for more stimulation.

"Anything!" I gasped, in between the curse words that now fell from my mouth. I couldn't control my language. Couldn't stop from spewing out any word that came to mind. "Fuck me. Oh, fuck. Cock. I want cock. Now! Your cock. Shove it in! In! Deep! Fuck. Ohhhh, fuck!" It was a litany, a prayer, a meditation.

He reached down and upped the setting to the next highest. I groaned, long and loud. Closer. I was so much closer. But not close enough. Not there. The buzzing continued. I felt my bladder let go. If I hadn't squirted before, now I had. I craned my neck to see if I could see. But I was tied down too tightly. I could feel the liquid against the back of my legs. I imagined it dripping down between the cracks of the deck. My urine, dripping down. The thought turned me on.

"Anything is too broad a statement. And there are parts of anything that you clearly don't mean. So, be specific, my little slave slut. Or we can stay here all day. And I can call the neighbors over and see if they have some suggestions about what to do with you."

I tried to concentrate. What did he want? What was he always asking for? Then it hit me. Pictures. He was always after me to let him take nude pictures of me. Dirty pictures. Nasty pictures of my legs spread wide and my pussy lips open. My tits hanging out. And cum splashed across them. Pictures. And I'd never said Yes.

"Pictures!" I fairly screamed, trying to make myself heard before another wave of spasms wracked my body. My cunt, god, my cunt was burning up. My clit throbbed. I could actually feel it throb.

"OK," he replied, in that ominous flat tone. "OK. Pictures is what you'll give me. And here's what I'll give you."

He bent and click the setting up to five, the harshest pulsating mode. And then, with no more than a nudge, he pushed the wand up until the vibrating head was resting directly on my clit.

It took no more than ten seconds. It felt like an eternity. My whole body clenched up. I held my breath. My heart went into overdrive. A sheen of sweat sprang up on every inch of skin. My nipples felt like they were squirting milk. And then it hit, with the force of a thousand hammers. My clit felt like it was splitting open. Wave after wave of sheer pleasure roiled through me, making me curl my toes and clench my hands and thrust my hips and bite my tongue and then scream long and hard, releasing every bit of tension inside me, until I lay like a limp rag on the deck, with only my head rocking back and forth, back and forth.

He reached down and adjusted the wand to the lowest setting. I moaned in pain. Touching me there so soon after orgasm was like touching a hot poker to my pussy. I didn't want the stimulation. Yet there it was. Still buzzing between my legs.

To be continued...