tagBDSMThe Depths of Slavery

The Depths of Slavery


My name is Richard, and I am drowning.

I am suffocating, and am near a breakdown, but ironically, if I were given a choice of saving myself, or continue to let myself be destroyed, I would probably chose the path of destruction.

Today, I am 42 years old. Two years ago, I lost my wife JoAnne of 15 years to cancer. We had been close in everything, and I was lucky to have a woman to whom I could confide my submissive/masochistic leanings. Although s&m didn't interest her, as the years went on, she did accommodate me. My taste for body worship and nipple and cock torture were, on occasion, fulfilled by my wife and I lived a happy life with her.

One of our biggest supporters during my wife's illness was Hope, a stunning woman of 35 who had been my wife's closest friend since we moved into this community five years earlier. Hope and her late, much older husband Benjamin (he died two years before JoAnne) were an attractive, well-to-do couple who kept pretty much to themselves. As I was trying to advance at the company I worked at, I worked late hours and often when I was working late, my wife would go over their house to play bridge with the couple. As neither of us had any children, we were free to do what we wanted, when we wanted.

When my wife passed away, Hope arranged everything for the funeral. As we had both lost a spouse recently, we began getting acquainted.

Hope was very take charge, and began sweeping me into social events with her circle of friends and mine. I was more than happy to leave the planning to someone else.

While the first few months, I sleepwalked my way through my days and nights, I soon began thinking of sex again. While S&M wouldn't be reasonable until I found a willing partner, I was horny and one night tried making a play for Hope. She always wore the clothes, which I found the sexiest, no matter what the occasion. If she were trying to frustrate me, she couldn't have done a better job.

Politely, Hope put me off, and sweetly said that we would have to talk about what we each wanted before we considered moving onto that aspect of our relationship.

We continued dating, and finally, I got so frustrated that I spoke up. I asked her whether she was interested in me sexually.

"Why of course, honey. But I don't know if we really have a future as a couple." She said.

"Why not."

"Because for me to get sexually excited, I need a very strong level of commitment from my partner. Very strong."

I then began outlining that I thought my level of commitment was very high.

"Sweetheart, Benjamin and I had a very special relationship. His level of commitment to me was total. I was his first and last thought every day. And I don't mean simply sexually, either. I don't know if I could ever have a different type of relationship with a man."

"What kind of commitment do you mean?" I asked.

"He's got to be fully committed to me." She said. Looking at me with meaning. "I would be in total charge. My word would be law. I would be the center of his existence. Is that something you could accept?"

I hesitated and she shrugged. I didn't know what the shrug meant until next week, when I was devastated by a call from Hope to tell me that we should split up because she was really looking for someone who would give her such a full commitment.

I couldn't believe my ears. I realized how much I needed Hope. She, however, was insistent that I couldn't really make the type of commitment she wanted. At this point, Hope said that we should be "friends."

In a few days, I saw her downtown with a strong looking, well-built younger man. The next weekend, I saw them sailing happily with two other couples, and I got so upset, I nearly threw-up on my boat.

I was becoming obsessed. Hope wouldn't return my calls, and even turned off her answering machine, so I couldn't hear her phone message.

Then, just when I began de-pressurizing, she would call to find out how I was and to apologize for not calling me. We would talk, I'd wind up begging, and she would gracefully get off. She'd then ignore me for another week or so, then call me warmly. The cycle would begin again. I would never get a chance to fully recover from her.

Finally, Hope agreed to see me, and we met at a restaurant that my wife and I often went to. After some small talk, although I promised myself I wouldn't beg and make a fool of myself, I began begging and making a fool of myself. I asked her what she wanted. Rather than reject me, Hope took my hand and looked at me sadly.

"I want total security. I never want to have to worry about you. I want a relationship where there would never be a question of my security, either financial or marital. It wouldn't be like most marriages. I would make the decisions."

I nodded my eager agreement.

She lit a cigarette. "And I would manage the money. All of it. Yours and mine. Could you agree to that?"

I nodded and under the table, she began warmly stroking my thigh. Her smile was hopeful. I was as hard as a rock.

"And none of my decisions would ever be questioned? Is that understood?"

I nodded again.

"And what if I told you that I wanted a much deeper s&m relationship than you and JoAnne had."

I nearly fell off my chair. Hope just held me closer.

"Who do you think convinced her to give you what you needed?"

I began to beg. "Please marry me."

And we began making plans. The wedding would be the next month. She took care of our respective guest lists. At that point, we began getting intimate. She was expert at oral sex, and gave me a good going over. I wondered where the s&m came in, but dare not ask.

The week before our wedding, she and I got together and began going over the finances. I showed her everything from my stocks and bonds to bank accounts to pension funds. "You haven't changed it all yet?" Hope got up and very quietly began getting her coat on. I finally begged her to come back in the house. "Whose name do you think all this should be in?"

I finally understood what she was angry about, and we took a trip to my broker, and banker. All of my assets were changed to her name. A pre-nuptial agreement that she had had drawn up made her the sole owner of everything I had. I had no rights, but had to trust her good will.

Finally, our wedding day rolled around. The ceremony was wonderful, and as the reception began, and we finished taking pictures, Hope took me by the hand and led me to the women's lounge on another floor of the catering hall where we wouldn't be disturbed.

She immediately threw her arms around my neck, and gave me the hottest kiss on record. She then led me into an opened toilet stall.

Hope pulled up her long dress and pulled off her panties. I began getting hard and pulled down my pants. She stopped me, and instead pulled me to my knees as she sat down on the toilet.

As Hope began to relax and urinate she stared me in the face. She then began pushing out a bowel movement. As she did, she put her hand behind my neck and kissed me. The smell was beginning to become most unpleasant, but the kiss made it an erotic experience. She moved her high-heeled leg forward so her shin was against my cock.

Then, with her other hand, she reached back and began fingering her own asshole as I watched. She was getting flushed and pulled her hand slowly from behind. Hope's finger was faintly brown in color, with flecks of her waste on it. She held it up to my mouth with one hand, and with her other hand, began playing with her own pussy. "Come on. This is only the beginning, honey." As I began sucking on her soiled finger, she slowly began her orgasm, keeping her glassy eyes plastered on her finger pumping in and out of my mouth. I began humping against her shin, and came in my pants. She smiled in triumph and kept her finger in my mouth, pumping in and out.

"We're going to be very happy. Very happy.

. .

Our honeymoon was very happy, and she ignored all mention of the wedding day event. I didn't dare bring it up, for fear of upsetting things. We were making love every night, and sometimes in the morning. She was splendid, and turned me inside out.

We flew back home and began our lives together.

Hope thought it was important that we live in her house, so she put mine on the market. I had already transferred the title to her name months before, so she would decide the financial disposition. I had no problem with that.

The second level was the kitchen, and the servant's quarters. Hope and I occupied the third level. Hope's (and my) bedroom had carpeted walls, and a very sleek, high-tech look, unlike the rest of the house. Chrome, plastic, and polyglass.

Hope and I settled in, and every night when I returned from work, we were served dinner by the maid, Sonya. She then retired downstairs, and Hope and I ate our meal. I wondered where her maid had gone, but after the meal, Hope told me that there were more than enough hands around the house now, and that she had let her maid go. "Benjamin and I never had a maid. The work always got done."

But Hope was not lifting a finger, but rather waited until I cleared the table. She then called to me. "The yellow sponge is for the dishes. Meet me upstairs when you finish." And this became a pattern with us. After dinner, Hope would go upstairs to shower and have a cigarette, or read, and I would clear the table, wash the dishes and straighten up. Our daughters would cook and serve.

I also noted that our first week back from our honeymoon, we made love twice, the next week, once, then there was almost a two-week gap till the next time. One night, I approached Hope about sex, and she sighed and said how tired she was. I held back a laugh, but she explained that she had gone grocery shopping and took care of the floors. She was all tired out.

So, in order to give her more energy, I began doing most of the grocery shopping from her list, and under her direction, I began mopping the floors. Her energy level increased and our sex became once a week again.

This kept up for a while, then it began to lag again. I also began to miss the S&M aspect of our relationship, and one night before sleep, I broached the subject. She lit a cigarette and leaned on her side toward me.

"I know we haven't done anything yet, honey," she answered. "It's got to come with time. I mean, you want me to be turned on too, don't you?"

I agreed.

"One thing does bother me and makes our sex-life unpleasant: You always annoying me for sex. I want to try something." She began touching my cock. "We're going to make love tonight, then, I don't want you to even mention sex for two weeks. If you can control yourself totally -- including masturbation --, then you'll have a big surprise waiting for you. Benjamin and I did this often and it worked well for us."

I agreed, and we made glorious love that night. She reminded me that I shouldn't masturbate either. I agreed, and we held each other tightly.

The first couple of days were alright, but then, I came home from work after the first week, and Sonya told me that Hope was out and would be back early in the evening and that I should eat and clean up. I asked where, and Sonya told me that Hope was out boating. When I asked with whom, she didn't tell me.

I changed clothing quickly, got into my car and drove to the local dock. I called home to see if I we missed each other, but she was still out.

I sat down and waited. One after another, the boats came in but no Hope. Almost two hours passed. The sun was beginning to go down.

Finally, in the distance I saw a mid-sized sailboat: The one I had seen her on before we married. At the tiller was the well-built younger man she had been with before. Hope was leaning against him with her hand on his shoulder. She was feeding him a drink from a champagne glass. She didn't see me. So I pulled away from the pier, and quickly got in my car. I drove off as the boat approached the pier.

I drove quickly to beat her home. But it was nearly two hours after that before a car pulled up, and I heard a door slam closed and Hope enter the house.

I walked downstairs and saw her put down her bag. She was clothed only in her bathing suit top and a pair of jean cutoffs. She looked up at me, smiled and exhaled in exhaustion. Then she pouted.

"I was a long time, wasn't I?" The clock said 10:15 p.m. I said nothing, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry. William wanted to take me sailing. We stayed out longer than we thought. I went back to his place for a quick shower, and a few drinks." Hope put her arm around my waist and walked with me upstairs.

I was silent and Hope glanced in the kitchen and nodded her approval over how clean it was. "That is great! Benjamin used to keep the place in perfect shape. I need a neat place to live. Thanks for helping." I could smell the alcohol on her breath.

We continued up the stairs to our level. "I am beat." And Hope began undressing. She didn't usually undress in front of me, and she looked splendid. Hope caught me looking and she shook her finger at me. "Don't frustrate yourself. Remember our agreement. You still have a week to go. And you're far from Benjamin's record." She smiled and I saw that her nipples were standing up at attention. What record? I wondered.

Hope jumped into bed and patted the spot next to her for me to crawl in. I took my clothing off and turned on my side. She plastered herself immediately against me and I felt the incredible heat. Her pussy ground against my ass and I felt that she was wet there. Her breasts were on fire and I remarked so.

"We did some sunning a few miles out. I wanted to get rid of my tan lines."

I froze. Hope laughed softly. "You're not jealous, are you?" She hugged me tighter. "William and I are long time 'fuck buddies' -- in the past, silly, not today. William likes guys more anyway. We were even talking about you."

"That's nice." I replied. I was steaming, but didn't let it show.

"If you knew how silly you sounded. Like you don't trust me." Hope snuggled closer and was asleep in a matter of moments.

. . .

Again, Hope said nothing about her sail with William. I was angry, but knew that nothing would come of my making an issue out of it. It was a harmless sail with an old friend.

As the days drew closer to the end of my sexual abstinence, Hope began an hourly countdown. She told me how proud she was that I could exercise such self-control. She prized that in a person, and especially in someone she loved.

Whenever she discussed the special nature of the breaking of my "sexual fast," I tried to get her to give me a hint of what she had in mind. She said nothing. Finally, the day arrived.

After Sonya cooked dinner for Hope and I, we ate at a leisurely pace. When we finished, I gathered up the plates and brought them into the kitchen. While Hope sat at the dining room table smoking, I cleaned up. She complimented me on how neat I was.

When I was done, Hope led me upstairs to our bedroom. She locked the door behind us and told me to undress totally, then get on the bed. She turned the lights low and went into the bathroom. I could already picture the diaphanous nightgown she would probably be wearing.

I was incredibly turned on with the entire situation. While my whole nature required a certain amount of sadomasochistic treatment in a romantic relationship, Hope had yet to show any inclination in this direction. I knew she was aware of what I wanted, but she was teasing me beyond belief. I was so hot for her, I wondered what direction our sex life would ultimately take.

After a seeming eternity in the bathroom, Hope finally opened the door and came into the room. But she was wearing no filmy nightgown.

Hope slowly sauntered toward the bed, wearing a pair of skintight blue jeans, which zipped from navel to the small of her back. She was bare on the top, her hair was pulled back in a very mannish way. Her make-up and body left no mistake that she was a desirable woman. On her feet was a pair of heavy motorcycle boots.

"What were you expecting? High-heels?" Hope asked.

Hope had a smirk on her face as she came over to the bed. I tried getting up, but she pushed me back down again. I then saw that she was carrying a few lengths of black rawhide. She sat down next to me and put both of my hands together. Hope then wrapped the rawhide around my wrists, tucked here, wrapped some more, and my hands were soon immobile. She then pulled my arms above my head and tied them to the headboard.

"You like high-heels?" she asked.

She stared in my face and kissed me lightly. Her skin glowed, and up this close, I could see how beautiful she was. I nodded to her question.

Hope smiled slightly and opened her night table drawer. She took out a leather case. She opened it and removed a pair of fishnet stockings and a pink garter belt. But these were not for her. Hope began slowly sliding the stockings over my leg. She purred. I saw the most satisfied, dreamy look come over her, as she gave me an affectionate squeeze.

"When you think of your S&M fantasies, are they very specific?" She asked.

I nodded.

"I bet JoAnn's fantasies weren't specific at all. She really wasn't into this, you know. If she were, she would have deep, specific fantasies. We talked about it a lot. She and I and Benjamin. Only someone who is deeply turned on by sadism has specific fantasies."

Hope pulled the other stocking leg up over my leg. She then began tucking the garter belt under me.

"Benjamin and I were both into this scene equally. He had his specific fantasies and I had mine. Since I was the dominant one, I decided which of his fantasies were fulfilled, when and how."

Hope began buttoning the garter belt.

"Does it surprise you that Benjamin's entire sex life was in my control?"

I shrugged, and felt her hands caressing me. Her hands felt hot on me body. She was flushed, but very controlled.

"It was simple. When he satisfied me, then I saw to it that he was satisfied. If he didn't satisfy my needs, then I got very, very bitchy, and made him feel very sorry for what he did."

She began attaching the garters to the stockings.

"Does it turn you on to think of me like that?"

I nodded very reluctantly. And she smiled.

"Does it make you hot thinking of Benjamin working long and hard to see that I was happy. And when he did everything perfectly, that's when I gave him what he wanted. In a way, it was a kind of pay as you go plan, and it really worked for us. Do you like that idea?"

Hope began twisting another rawhide strip around my ankles, then lashed them to the foot rail of the bed.

"How do you like the idea that it turns me on to see you tied up and dressed in something such as a garter belt and stockings, or makeup and a wig. Does that excite you?"

I nodded my head. Hope lit a cigarette and placed an ashtray on my chest. She drew deeply on the cigarette and rested it in the ashtray. "I'm someone who likes giving things to someone I love. Is it wrong that in return, I expect to get the things I want?" Hope raised her eyebrows, and I nodded in agreement. With that, she leaned over and gave me a 200-Volt kiss. I was in heaven as she probed my mouth with her hot tongue and played with my cock. It was as hard as an iron bar.

Hope then broke the kiss and sat up in the bed. She put the cigarette in her mouth and got on her knees. She then began slowly undoing the zipper so that she had the jeans legs on, but her whole pussy and ass was exposed. She shifted backward so that her pussy was over my face. She slowly lowered herself onto my mouth, and enticingly teased me with it. I started going crazy as she began playing with my cock. I heard her laugh softly. "It would really disappoint me if you came."

She then slowly lowered herself onto my face so I couldn't see anything else. I began licking her pussy, which was already wet. As I ate her pussy, she propped up the back of my head with a pillow so my eyes and forehead were pressed against her ass. She moaned above me as I licked away.

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