The Flip Side

"All week," she gasped, as if confirming to herself, "It's been such hell."

He felt her body quiver, the first signs of his wife's climax, realising how close she was already, but he kept sucking and teasing. The fingertip edged towards her entrance and he paused on the threshold.

"Do it," she rasped.

Gregory pushed his finger inside, slipping it deep into his wife's willing pussy, feeling her shudder against him. She was lost in a world of bliss as he stroked and sucked, just as he knew she loved. His manhood was rigid, bobbing in the air beneath, seemingly forgotten by the woman above him as she focused on her building climax. Gregory pulled his finger out, positioned two at her entrance and then probed deeply into her, making come-hither motions with his fingers inside her until the soft grunts became one long, continuous moan.

Still, Lydia showed no signs of breaking it off, of wanting to sink down onto him and take his waiting manhood inside her. She was content to be serviced by the hulking, bare body between her legs. She wriggled a finger through the metal ring on his collar, directing him expertly, using his mouth to pleasure her clit, then her lips, alternating until she had built up to the edge of orgasm, standing above him, legs splayed and eyes tight shut, lost in ecstasy.

The finger tugged forwards, hard, crushing his face against her crotch. Her thighs wrapped around his head, building pressure until he found himself unable to break free. Breathing stale, musk-scented air from within his wife's crotch, Gregory began to work furiously, licking and sucking, rasping the flat of his tongue against her clit even as his fingers stroked rapidly across her g-spot.

He felt her thighs clench, squeezing his skull, and then his wife cried out, trembling violently as her orgasm erupted. Gregory was trapped by the force of her contractions, locked in place as she squirmed against his face, leaving him frantic for air. He found himself pitching backwards, but his wife didn't break off, following him all the way down to the carpet, straddling him on the ground, her crotch and her bodyweight pressed against his head as she sat on his face, the aftershocks of her orgasm rippling through her thighs.

At last, she lifted up off him, and Gregory was able to draw breath, gasping for air, his face slickened with his wife's juices. Lydia leaned to the side, rummaging through the clothes pile, while her husband laid spent between her knees.

"Did you like...?" Gregory gasped, smiling weakly up at her.

Lydia placed a finger on his lips. "Ssh," she said, "No talking."

Gregory pursed his lips together, looking up at his wife, seeing a strange, triumphant look on her face.

"Now, that's better. Silent and obedient."

Unable to say anything, Gregory nodded.

"No," she chided softly, "No nodding. No shaking heads. No opinion, just obedience."

She looked down at him expectantly, and when he didn't move, she nodded.

"Good slave."

She raised her hand, dangling Gregory's belt in front of him. She got off him.

"Roll over."

Gregory hesitated a moment, but then he complied, feeling his manhood pressed uncomfortably against the carpet as his wife climbed onto his back, pinning him in place.

"Hands behind your head."

Gregory laced his fingers together behind his head, waiting for his wife's next command. He felt a tug on his collar, and then the leather of his belt being slid under it. Puzzled, he waited patiently as he felt her wrap the belt around one of his wrists and then the other, pulling tight until there was no slack left, and then the rattle of his buckle as she secured the end of the belt.

"How's that?"

Unsure if he was meant to remain silent, Gregory didn't answer. He felt his wife's body sliding down his back until she was sitting astride his buttocks. Fingernails traced delicately down his sides, and he began to squirm and buck as his wife tickled him. He wanted to tell her to stop, but knew he was forbidden. His wife didn't relent though, tickling him mercilessly until he was writhing on the floor, pulling against the belt wrapped around his wrists with all his strength, unable to break free. She withdrew her fingers, leaving him panting, face pressed into the carpet.

"Seems secure."

She got off him again.

"Roll over."

Gregory complied, seeing the beautiful face of his petite wife smiling down at him. She cocked an eyebrow inquisitively and Gregory braced himself for whatever she had planned next.

"I did some independent research," she said, her tone light and conversational, "Especially given the size difference between us."

As she spoke, she straddled his chest again, this time with her back to him. She leaned forward, sliding her hands down his thighs, and he could feel the damp heat of her pussy pressed against his sternum.

"Turns out that size isn't a factor. The only lever I need is this."

There was a pause, and Gregory was acutely aware of how he looked to his wife, with his hands tied to the back of a leather collar and his legs spread in front of her face. Suddenly, he felt very vulnerable.

There was a whisper of air across the tip of his cock, and then a soft pressure, but for only a moment, and then gone again. His erection bobbed in answer, searching for that touch again.

"Eager, aren't you?" his wife laughed.

The soft pressure returned, going a little deeper this time, enveloping his engorged tip completely. He felt the frisson of suction and then there was a smacking sound as she pulled up, off him.

"I could just do this all night," she said, "How long do you think you could keep it up? Is there such a thing as erection fatigue?"

Her lips slipped down onto him again, summoning a low murmur from his throat in response.

"We could just spend the night like this, with you helpless underneath me while I tormented you."

A fingernail wormed its way over his scrotum, playing with his balls. He closed his eyes, concentrating on its progress as it reached the base of his shaft, raking slowly upwards until it met his tip.

"I might get bored though. How would you entertain me?"

In answer, Gregory craned his neck forward as far as he could. It was just enough to plant a kiss on his wife's bottom.

"Good idea."

He felt her fingers coil around the base of his cock, but at the same time, she began to slide up his body, the warm, wet patch moving up his chest until it pressed against the hollow of his throat, her rear against his chin. Gregory obliged and opened his mouth, letting his tongue explore the cleft between her buttocks. They were in new territory now, his wife tensing as his tongue tip brushed against her puckered opening.

He could tell that she had showered, making an effort for him when he got home, but there was still a tang. He poked delicately, conscious of every movement of his wife's body, feeling the tension ease as she relaxed into it. She leaned forwards and he felt her lips push down on his cock.

Forbidden from speaking, his only option was his actions, worming his tongue between her buttocks, encouraging her to draw him deeper into her mouth, to allow him the blissful friction of her lips bobbing up and down his shaft. They had done this many times, with her kneeling between his legs wearing the collar. Now that Lydia was in charge, she knew exactly what it took to bring her husband to climax, exactly how far she could take him before he came.

As Gregory lapped at his wife's rear, Lydia built him up slowly, deliberately to the edge of orgasm. Gregory found his attention focusing on the exquisite sensations of his wife's mouth, trying to remain perfectly still. Even a twitch would be enough to give him away, signalling how close he was. With a supreme effort, he forced himself to relax, but his wife seemed to have anticipated this, pulling off his manhood with a wet popping noise.

"Close?"

Gregory didn't answer. In response, Lydia sat upright, which had the effect of pushing her bottom firmly against him until she was sitting squarely on his face, cutting off his air.

"Your mistress asked you a question. If you're close, nod your head."

Gregory nodded, feeling the weight of his wife's body on his head, the taste of her rear entry pressed to his tongue. She waited for a few more moments, then shifted her weight forwards again, letting him breathe.

"You're absolutely helpless like this, aren't you? So big, so strong, but absolutely no leverage," she said, then he felt her hand swiping his painfully rigid erection, "And so very hard. Is this a new side of you?"

Gregory wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer. All he could think about, after a week away from the body of his gorgeous wife, was the sensation of her lips on the tip of his cock, teasing him closer and closer to his release. She rolled her hips, and he tasted the musk of her pussy against his tongue. He lapped against her vigorously, feeling how his wife held herself in position, letting herself be explored by her husband's eager tongue.

"No, less," she admonished, "Delicate, please. I'm still quite sensitive."

Gregory complied, restraining himself to tender, lingering kisses against her slit. Up above him, he heard his wife giggle.

"Let's see how obedient you are now. Follow me."

At first, he didn't understand, but she raised her rear, breaking contact, then holding herself in position just above his face. He felt her hand wrap around his cock, administering several firm strokes that left him desperate for more.

"Come on, your mistress wants you to follow."

He raised his head, making contact with her moist folds again, but then she pulled away and realisation dawned. Gregory began to sit up, keeping his face in contact with his wife's pussy as she went onto her hands and knees over him. She paused, letting his tongue worm its way deep inside her.

"Keep going."

She moved again, rising up, forcing Gregory to sit upright to maintain contact, licking and teasing his wife's crotch as she stood over him in her stockings and corset, bent forwards slightly at the waist to give him access to her. She put her hands on her hips, rolling her shoulders back and stretching her neck, smiling to herself as her husband serviced her.

"I could do this all day," she murmured, "Imagine that. I could have used your skills in the all-hands meeting yesterday, sitting there with your tongue at work under the boardroom table."

He felt her body shudder.

"Oh, darling, that would have been incredible. You would have managed all my executive stress."

She began to move again, crawling onto the bed, forcing Gregory to swing his legs under him and get onto his knees. She stayed like that, perched on the bed on all fours, pushing back gently against her husband's face as he parted her labia with his tongue, seeking out her firm little button.

Lydia gasped, pulling away, but then re-establishing contact. "Sure," she mumbled, "Another one wouldn't hurt."

His wife held herself still, allowing her husband to explore her completely with his tongue and his lips, nuzzling her until his chin was slick with a combination of his saliva and his wife's moisture. His lips locked onto her clit again as he pushed the tip of his nose between her inner lips. She responded explosively, a sharp hiss of breath as she rode the waves of pleasure emanating from her crotch.

Gregory could feel the tremors deep inside her as she built up to her second orgasm, pressing back against him, signalling her need. Gregory wanted to get to his feet and slide into her, fucking her mercilessly from behind until he was spent. The thought seemed to take root in his mind, pushing all else aside, until he felt a surge of wetness against his face and heard a low, gurgling cry from his wife as she orgasmed again.

Lydia pulled forward, away from him, gasping. He tried to follow, but she was too quick, facing him now on her hands and knees on the far side of the bed, her eyes wide and her cheeks rosy with the flush of her climax. Gradually, she slowed her breathing, and then grinned.

"I could happily do this all night."

Her gaze shifted to her husband's crotch.

"That looks like you're ready to explode."

She seemed to make a decision, sitting back on her haunches, surveying him.

"Lie down on the bed."

Lydia was comfortable giving orders now, emboldened by his compliance and his eagerness to service her. Gregory rose from the floor and laid himself on the bed, his hands still bound uselessly behind his neck, his substantial manhood standing proud. Lydia's eyes were locked on it, anticipating the moment she would put him to use. She traced the edge of his hip with her fingers, brushing down to his knee, and then trailing up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

"I see what you see in this now. The control, when you made me wait. I can see the appeal."

Her hand ventured over his belly, up to his chest, fingernails trailing over his dark skin.

"Such power at my command. Pent up, waiting to be released."

She stroked his neck, brushing her fingers over his lips.

"I know how it feels," she continued, "To be coiled up tight as a spring. I love it. I love when you look into my eyes and release me, after making me wait and wait. I hope you're feeling that too."

Her hand traced its path down his chest again, to his crotch. Her fingers coiled around his solid manhood.

"I love what you do to me, when you make me beg."

Lydia moved, straddling her husband's helpless form.

"Time to put all that muscle to work."

She positioned herself carefully, taking the tip of his cock between her labia, holding herself poised above his prone form.

"You don't need to think anymore, slave. I just need you to perform."

Gregory lifted his hips, sliding his manhood into his wife, watching the intense, gleeful expression on her face as he did so. Lydia smiled, giving him permission, and he began to thrust up into her waiting body.

"There," she whispered, "Isn't that good?"

Gregory began to drive harder, until his wife was bouncing up with each stroke. She reached down the front of her corset, liberating her breasts, cupping them in her hands. She closed her eyes, her fingers finding her nipples, tweaking as she began to moan.

"Harder," she rasped, "Your mistress wants you to fuck her."

Gregory pushed down hard with his heels, driving upwards, his abdominals straining with the effort. He could feel his climax beginning to build, but his muscles were burning with the effort, straining to rise each time to enter his wife. Too late, he realised that she had manufactured this situation, letting him spend and exhaust himself, unable to keep going long enough to find his release.

Gritting his teeth, the effort began to take its toll, his rhythm stuttering. He glared up at his wife, needing her to relent, to change position somehow, and let him find his climax. In response, she leaned over the top of him, her elbows by his ears, her face close to his. The blue eyes bored into him, watching as he became exhausted and finally slumped down onto the bed, defeated, gasping for breath.

He looked up at his wife, his tip still within her, needing to speak, knowing he was forbidden. In response she kissed him.

"Looks like you're finished," she remarked, almost casually, bearing down slowly on his thick erection.

Gregory steadied his breathing, feeling his wife engulf his manhood little by little until her lips were pressed up against the root of his shaft.

"You feel so good inside," she smiled, "I love the way you fill me up. But you're all spent now, aren't you?"

She kissed him again, parting her lips to slide her tongue into his mouth. Gregory let it happen, his resistance eroded, his petite wife sitting astride his hulking, conquered form.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

Forbidden from movement, Gregory stared up at her.

"Okay, I'll tell you. You don't need to do anything, you just need to lie there and let me use your body."

Slowly, she began to rise and fall on him, fucking herself on his swollen, substantial cock. She pressed down, taking him in all the way, sighing with pleasure as her husband stretched and filled her. Gregory remained still, unable to take his eyes off his wife's beautiful face, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she impaled herself on him.

Gradually, she built up momentum, driving down harder, pushing deeper, faster, until she was thrusting herself down onto his helpless cock, riding him for her own pleasure. Gregory's body responded, his manhood swelling until it felt like an iron bar, transmuted by his wife's unusual behaviour, her desperate need to feel him within her.

"I know how this feels for you," she grunted, eyes still screwed shut, "I've been on the receiving end enough times. You remember teasing me, don't you? Keeping me on the edge, waiting endlessly? How's it feel on the flip side?"

Gregory didn't answer.

"Oh, I bet you want to tell me, but I'm not going to let you. Oh, that's so good. You feel so fucking good."

Her hips began to tilt, changing the angle, grinding her clit against his shaft as she bounced down onto him. Gregory could feel his climax building, but there was a sense of unease. He'd done it to her before, telling her to cum if she could while he pounded into her. He remembered the rattle of the collar ring against leather as her body shook under the onslaught, how hard he'd come, and the look on her face as he finished, too soon for her, denying Lydia her own orgasm, smiling down at her as he withdrew. Would she repay the favour, building to her third orgasm of the night, denying him?

"Cum if you can. I'm so close, I'm, uh, so fucking close, darling, and I'm not waiting."

Her cheeks were burning with the flush of her impending orgasm, her skin slick with perspiration from her effort, on her elbows and knees over his muscled frame, using him for her pleasure. He felt the tremors inside her, the herald of her orgasm, and closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on the exquisite friction of his wife's vagina around his desperate, rigid cock.

A deep, abiding need began to well up inside him, swelling his manhood, making it twitch. He heard his wife laugh.

"Nearly there?"

He blotted out her words, concentrating on the building wave of ecstasy, needing so desperately to cum. His wife mewled, slamming down on him viciously, her walls quivering against him, grinding her clit against his shaft, milking all the pleasure she could from him, then finally sliding him all the way into her and coming to a shuddering halt. Gregory groaned loudly, feeling his wife tremble, willing himself to focus, willing it to be enough.

He teetered on the crest, and then felt a wave of relief as he give way, sliding down into his own rolling orgasm, pumping and pumping his seed into the willing body of his wife, letting out a long, rumbling moan of pleasure. His wife collapsed on top of him, her body pressed against his, sharing the moment, the connection, locked together.

At last, Lydia reached up to his throat and unbuckled the collar, undoing the belt around his wrists.

"Done with this for the night?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"How're you feeling, after that?"

She snuggled up close to him, nuzzling his neck.

"Sunday night," she whispered, "What about you?"

"Same."

"How did it feel, Greg? Being the, uh...."

"Slave," Gregory finished, "It was fun."

"I messed up though."

"Not really. First time's always the hardest."

"First? So there's more?"

Gregory shrugged. "If you want. I'm amenable. Equality is important."

He held it in for a few seconds, but then the laughter welled up from him.

"Greg, you're such a bastard," Lydia groaned, "I really struggled with that."

"I know, and I did too, the slave aspect, but you know what?"