The Thrill Of It All Ch. 04

Copyright © July 2022 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. All sexually active characters in this story are over 18. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Author's Notes

This is a fourth part to the series. Although it is self-contained from a story perspective, I would recommend you read the earlier chapters as there will be references which make more sense if you have read from the start.

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John didn't disappoint.

Roberta hadn't even had time to slip off her heels before John had sidled up behind. He placed one hand half way up her side, and the other up around her shoulders, easing back her long locks. She could feel his breath on her bare neck, sending shivers through her exposed skin.

"My little slut... my beautiful little slut..." John addressed his wife, his voice stern and forceful. "Have you forgotten what I said?"

John released his grip, spinning his wife around. For a few seconds, Roberta simply stared back at her husband. Then, dutifully, she dropped to her knees, hands behind her back, head dropped slightly. It was her position... her starting point when he played all dominant... her waiting position to be taken however he wanted to use her.

As John approached, blindfold in hand, Roberta knelt there; she was the submissive lover wanting to please, or be pleased... but, most of all, wanting to satisfy her master. She didn't flinch as John wrapped the soft black velvet around her head, plunging Roberta into total darkness. She was alone, kneeling on the hard kitchen floor, seeing nothing, yet hearing everything. There were bangs and shuffles a plenty.

What was her husband up to?

How long was he going to leave her here?

What was he going to do to her next?

Roberta didn't have too long to wait to find out. Trying to be as silent as possible, John crept up towards Roberta. When he ran his fingers gently across her cheek, Roberta jumped, her heart skipping a beat such was the unexpected nature of his touch. It was a mistake, and she knew the same.

"Did I say you could move?" John asked.

"No," came the response.

"No, what?"

"No, Master."

"That's better. Now, I wasn't planning to punish you... quite the opposite actually... but maybe you are looking for something more," John addressed his submissive wife. "Am I right? Are you wanting to be punished?"

"No, Master... I wasn't, Master... you... just..." Roberta started to explain, then thought better of it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Now, let's have you on your feet," John commanded, placing a finger under Roberta's chin, and lifting her head upwards.

Roberta rose carefully to her feet. In the darkness, and still wearing her heels, it wasn't as easy as it should have been, but she managed to stand without mishap. She took up another submissive pose, standing there, still with her hands clasped behind her back and her head slightly down, but this time with her feet slightly apart. It was a familiar position, one she'd been in many times before, as was the previous kneeling pose. The only difference was that today she was still clothed as against her usual state of undress.

"Good girl," John praised his submissive wife, once more running his hand softly across her cheek as she stood there.

This time Roberta didn't jump.

"Now, what about this top?" John asked, his question suggesting what he was looking for, but without giving clear direction.

He needn't have worried though. Roberta had a good idea what he meant, or at least what she hoped he meant, and John's suggestion was met without hesitation. Roberta pulled her top up and over her head. There was nothing teasing, nothing seductive about her movement. It was quick. It was functional. It was direct. It was purely to satisfy his wish and nothing more. With her top removed, Roberta took up her submissive stance again.

John stood there, watching. If there wasn't enough of a hint of deep cleavage in her dressed state, then without the top there was no disguising the plumpness of Roberta's full mounds, nor the effective way in which that red plunge bra held them front and forward.

"Bra!" John added, his suggestive questioning becoming single word commands.

Once more, Roberta didn't hesitate. She reached higher up her back, took hold of the rear band, and eased the hooks apart. Releasing her grip, the large cups hung loose, leaving Roberta's breasts swinging free of their confines, her soft full melons now sagging slightly against her naked chest. First one side then the other, Roberta eased the straps over her shoulders, sending the lacy undergarment tumbling to the floor.

There was no hesitation, nor any attempt to cover her modesty, as Roberta returned to her waiting position, ready for her next order. The effect of having her hands behind her back, simply presented those pillowy mounds towards her husband. As she stood there, Roberta hoped to feel his touch against her soft flesh, to feel his fingers graze her rapidly hardening nipples, to feel his soft lips suckle down against her swollen nubs. She kept any disappointment hidden when all that followed was another request.

"Skirt!" John commanded.

Once more the reaction was immediate. Roberta reached down, fumbling for the zipper. In one movement, she eased it down. The skirt fell loose around the waist, gathering around her hips. Pulling her legs together momentarily, Roberta allowed the discarded garment to slide down across her plentiful thighs, and over her knees, before falling free to the ground. Carefully, Roberta stepped out of the discarded skirt, and, as with every other order, quickly she returned to her waiting position.

For a moment, John was waiting too. Waiting and staring. His wife stood there... obedient... submissive... totally his. Dressed in red lace French knickers, opaque black stay-ups, and heels, Roberta was a sight to behold. John had often wondered about buying her a collar, to wear in just these moments, but that signalled ownership, and, in their relationship, it was more about enjoyment than possession. He wouldn't do what he thought she wouldn't enjoy, and Roberta wouldn't allow him to do it either. They trusted each other, and that was all they needed. Still though, as he stared at his sexy wife, he did think that a thin black leather collar would have set the outfit off perfectly.

If there had been any doubt about Roberta enjoying being the slut, there was no hiding it now. She was already anticipating what was to come. There was a tingle in her loins as she listened for the next snapped order, the one which was to have her take off her knickers, to remove her last modicum of dignity.

It never came.

Instead of orders, it was direction which followed, John leading his wife slowly and carefully across the kitchen. She was nervous rather than scared, nervous of what was in front of her, what she couldn't see, and what she may well have been about to bump into. It was only a few steps--Roberta counted six or seven at most--but it seemed the longest journey as she shuffled across the tiled floor.

It was on the eighth step that she did bump into something. She leaned forward, placing her hands against the unseen obstacle. There was no mistaking what it was. Roberta could feel the hard yet curved edge of the kitchen table pressing firmly against her thigh. She could feel the smooth chill of the varnished top beneath her hands. Her heart skipped a beat. John hadn't been joking when he sent her a picture of a table. Was he about to bend her over and fuck her right here in the kitchen? She could feel the ache of desire between her legs, then remembered the rest of the message.

"Blindfolded... bound... all holes filled... and cumming so hard..."

Roberta shivered. It was a nervous shiver as she considered each word in turn, considered what had already happened, anticipated what was to come next. It was the anticipation which was starting to cloud Roberta's judgement. There were footsteps moving away. There was the rustle of a bag. Then footsteps again, this time coming towards her. Without the benefit of sight, her other senses had gone into overdrive, her mind playing games with her, imagining things which didn't quite match reality.

Was it one set or two?

Was it just her husband, or was there somebody else?

Roberta wanted to call out, to ask the obvious, but she knew not to... at least not without being given permission. If she had been rational, she would have known there was nobody else in the house, no way to enter other than through the front door directly into the kitchen. Why then was she imagining the presence of another? Was she overreacting to the lack of sight, or was she starting to fantasise about her true desires, imagining what she wanted to be there?

The footsteps stopped. Somebody was standing right behind her. Roberta held her breath. It had to be John. Surely, it had to be him. Even so, she could not bring herself to trust it was just her husband. She could feel his breath against her bare back. He ran his fingers down over her naked skin. He slid his hand across her knicker-clad ass and gave a strong, painful squeeze at her left cheek. Roberta stifled the need to moan out into the dark, but her reaction was obvious.

"You like that, don't you slut?" John whispered, repeating the same to her other cheek.

This time Roberta did moan, a soft gasped outpouring half in reaction to the pain in her backside and half in relief that it was John teasing her, and not the figment of her fantasy, which told of a second stranger. John ignored her indiscretion. He continued further, moving downwards, following the curve of her full ass, letting his fingers trace a line between her legs.

Without hesitation, Roberta spread her legs slightly, wanting to feel his gentle touch against her sensitive inner thigh. It was exactly what John was looking for, but he didn't take advantage. Advantage was something her would have plenty of time to take later, but first he had something else in mind. John crouched down, bending at the knees, sinking lower and lower. He planted a soft kiss on Roberta's ass, making his wife jump.

Still though, that wasn't his intention. With a little firm persuasion, John encouraged his wife to open her legs further. Roberta stood there, legs now spread wide, hoping to feel his return, to feel his face move up between her ass cheeks, to feel his mouth press firmly against her hidden sex. The touch never came... well, not against her ass.

John moved down to her ankles. Roberta felt something wrap around her leg but thought little of it. It was soft and warm, wrapping snugly around her stocking clad ankle. Whatever it was, John repeated the same on the other side, then took his wife by surprise.

"Spread them!" he commanded.

Roberta was confused. She already had her legs spread wide. Why then was he asking for more? She was about to question the same but, before Roberta had the chance to do anything, John had already taken matters into his own hands. The cuffs may have been soft and comfortable, but the length of rope attached to each cuff was hard and strong. He looped each around a table leg and pulled hard. Roberta had no option but to follow as the lengths of rope shortened.

"Ughh," Roberta gasped, as she found her ankles being forced firmly forward and out.

Roberta tried to pull her ankles back together, but to no avail. John had prepared well. As Roberta tried--the effort was more for show than for effect--to pull her legs away from their bindings, John quickly secured the ropes, tying them off against the table legs. Taking a moment to admire his work, John then returned to standing behind his wife.

She was... blindfolded.

She was... bound... well... at least, she was partially bound.

She still had two more holes to be filled... but all in good time.

"What are you doing to--" Roberta started to ask.

Her protestations were cut short by a smarting pain and a high-pitched squeal, as John brought his hand down on her knicker-clad ass.

"Is that disobedience I hear?" John asked, wrapping one hand back around Roberta's shoulders and pulling himself close in to her ear, as if to make sure she listened to his every word. "Are you looking for me to make that ass of yours as red as those sexy little knickers you are wearing? Is that it? Would my little slut like that?"

"Aghh," Roberta squealed as John brought his hand down once more. Should she admit that the thought was turning her on?

"Aghh," she squealed again as he gave another firm slap.

"So... do you still want to know what I am doing?" John asked.

"Well... I'm gonna tell you anyway... but I guess you already have an idea," John continued, his previous question being rhetorical in nature. "You only have yourself to blame, you know. It was your fantasy which gave me the idea. I never told you, but the image you painted was so damn hot... so damn sexy... so damn... well, could you blame me for wanting more?"

As she stood in her husband's arms, feeling his breath against her ear, Roberta once again tried to bring her legs together. It was no good. The ties were just too strong.

"You can try all you want," John teased, "but this little slut ain't going anywhere, however much she fights."

John released his grip on Roberta. She could hear footsteps heading away from her, and in that instant, she knew she was standing there, alone again. It was true. Just like in her fantasy, she was now tied to the table, her stocking-clad legs secured to the table's namesakes. In her fantasy though, it wasn't just her legs which were bound, a detail which hadn't passed her husband by. Not that she could see it, but John was already holding onto the next part of her fantasy; two more cuffs, two more lengths of rope, and an enormous suction dildo. Once more, they had been purchased with just this day in mind.

"Hands!" John commanded, his voice coming from the other end of the table.

As Roberta obediently reached forward in the direction of where the sound had come from, John was waiting. He took her hands in his, and just like with her ankles, John slipped similar soft leather cuffs around Roberta's wrists. Roberta had no way to see, but these cuffs were also attached to lengths of strong rope.

John took purchase on the ropes in one hand. With his other, he positioned the dildo loosely on the table, hoping it would be in the correct location for what he had in mind. There was only one way to find out. Slowly, yet powerfully, John started to pull Roberta towards him. At first, other than holding her arms fully out, Roberta stood still. Before long, though, she had no choice but to lean forward.

"That's it... bend over!" John ordered, using his grip on the ropes to encourage her downward movement.

Nervously, with a touch of hesitation at the unknown, Roberta bent at the waist.

"Good girl," John encouraged, carefully adjusting the position of the dildo as his wife moved lower. "Keep going... just a little more."

Further and further, John pulled, and Roberta reached out in front of her. In her heels, Roberta's waist was several inches above table height, so leaning forward was no issue other than the discomfort that came with having her arms pulled. The only way to relieve the discomfort was to keep moving, lowering her chest, slowly getting closer and closer to the table top.

It was her breasts which touched the cold wooden surface first. Full, and with just that touch of middle-aged sag, they had begun to dangle freely beneath her chest as soon as she started to lean forward. Now, with her face still more than a foot above the table top, Roberta could feel her nipples, already firm large nubs, graze against the smooth surface. A shiver of excitement passed through her body.

Still though, John kept pulling, and Roberta kept leaning forward. She was getting closer and closer. John smiled as he finally secured the dildo, by way of its large suction cup, to the table. Roberta was going to get one hell of a surprise... well... actually, one hell of another surprise.

Twelve inches.

Eleven inches.

Ten inches.

Nine--

"Ughh," Roberta gasped as she bumped into something unexpected.

For a moment she pulled back, ignoring the strain in her shoulders. She had felt it. She was sure of that. It was firm. It was large. It was sticking upwards right in front of her mouth. Her shoulders were aching, but still she had to ask.

"What?" Roberta asked. "What is it?"

"Oh, my dear little slut," John responded sarcastically, "I think you are forgetting again. Did I give you permission to speak, or did I ask you to lean forward? I think the latter, but once more you are being disobedient, aren't you?"

"No... no..." Roberta responded, quickly leaning forward until she felt the unseen object at her mouth once more.

"Now you have asked though, I feel obliged to tell you," John continued, pulling a little firmer at his wife's hands and forcing her lips to press firmly against the protrusion in front.

"You see..." John started, before breaking into laughter. "No... actually, you don't see, do you? Well, shall we say it's nine and a half inches of long, thick cock... and later I'll have the pleasure of watching you ride it. For now, though... well, I guess you know where it's going... so, be a good girl, and open wide."

For the first time, Roberta was scared. Nine and a half inches was one hell of a size. She was in no position to refuse though. Slowly, obediently, she opened her mouth and flicked out her tongue. It was one hell of a width as well. Roberta couldn't be totally sure, but it felt the best part of an inch wider than her husband's, and even his seemed humungous at times. Was he being serious that she was going down face first on this monster cock?

"I... I... don't... think..." Roberta started to plead.

The protest fell on deaf ears.

"My dear little slut... was I asking you to think, or to show me what a talented mouth you have? Maybe you need a little more encouragement."

John placed his free hand on the back of Roberta's head, not so much to apply pressure, but more to ensure she didn't pull back from every downward motion. With the strain building in her arms, Roberta had no option but to lower herself. She started to move forward once more, all the time leaning closer towards the kitchen table. The dildo pressed harder against her soft lips, and as it did, Roberta eased her lips apart. Any remaining protestations soon became muffled noise. The dildo widened, and Roberta opened her mouth even further. It felt so big, so wide, as it slid between her lips and started to fill the void of her mouth.

One inch, then two, how many more would she have to take?

Roberta was starting to panic that he would force the full nine and a bit inches deep inside. She had learnt to take cock in her mouth, but she wasn't a natural, and deep was the least natural for her. Was this a lesson on how to take him deep, on how to throat fuck his cock? Was that the idea? If that was what John wanted, then he could have asked, and Roberta would have happily tried. It may not have been successful, but she would have tried.

Roberta was so consumed by the thought of being impaled on this monster cock, that she didn't pay much attention to what was actually happening around her. She didn't notice that John was no longer holding her head, nor that she was no longer being pulled downwards. She didn't react when John tied the ropes off at the front of the table, stretching her arms out wide in a sort of half spreadeagle. She never even heard his footsteps as he walked back to the other end of the table.