The Throne Pt. 03: His Birthday

Jim had always treated my friends politely but, from that day on, his manner toward them warmed considerably, even to Kate, who could be difficult at times. Conversely, their knowledge of my throne yielded newfound respect for my husband, even from Kate.

"Did you think I had shaved my pussy?" I was curious how well my subterfuge had worked. "When did you know there was another woman?"

"Oh... well...," he teased, then retorted, "that is a Secret of the Brotherhood!"

Sunday morning, I woke before him and slipped out of bed to prepare from scratch two of his favorite things for breakfast: smoked salmon quiche and cinnamon rolls. When they were baking, I warmed some towels and went into the bedroom. The aromas or the noise had roused him, so he smiled when he saw me with the towels.

"Good morning, my love," I said. "Would you like to take a shower?"

He was happy to let me pamper him the way he had me two weeks earlier. As he got dressed, I returned to the kitchen to complete breakfast.

"I laid out some clothes for you," he said as he took his seat. "I hope you're in the mood for a little bondage."

"Yes, master," I said, guessing the roles for the day as I poured his coffee.

"Oh, I'm not fond of fancy titles," he replied. "'Dear husband' will do."

"Thank you, dear husband," I said. "Would you like anything else before I get dressed?"

He looked skeptically at what I had served him, and I knew he was recalling how I had required him to remake my breakfast. But these items were special and took hours to prepare, so whatever else I would make would not be as good.

His grin told me I had outmaneuvered him as he growled, "This will do."

I hurried to the bedroom and laughed to see what he had selected. It wasn't a chastity cage, but it might have been as tight. He found a sexy lingerie set we hadn't used in a while. The corset had a quarter-cup top, which essentially put my breasts on a shelf, leaving my areolas fully exposed. As much as my boobs would jiggle, nothing else would, as the gaudy red garment was tight from there to my hips. I wouldn't be taking a lot of deep breaths.

There were stockings, garters, and high heel shoes as is traditional. He had omitted the matching panties, which I assumed was intentional. Reinforcing the bondage theme, there was a collar connected by a jewelry chain to two nipple clamps. Attaching them last, the lengths left little slack. If I turned my head or my boobs sloshed around as I walked, there would be continual tugs on my nipples.

Returning to the dining room, I realized that my jiggling as I walked was at least as comical as Jim's had been with the chastity device. Presenting myself for inspection, he tested that everything was fastened tight enough.

"I'm going to play some video games," he announced when he had finished eating. "Clean up and prepare some snacks for later."

I liked that he watched me as I clacked and jiggled into the kitchen. Finishing up an hour later, I went to see if he wanted more coffee. He was in the middle of a feverish battle, so I stood silently until he had a break.

"Would my dear husband like anything?" I asked.

He reached around my ass to pull me close, giving each cheek a hearty squeeze.

"I won't be much longer," he said. "I want to finish teaching these noobs a lesson. I told them I could beat them playing one-handed!" He laughed and slipped his fingers between my cheeks to tickle my pussy, making me jump from the sudden move.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them what I'm doing with my other hand!" he giggled. He cupped my vulva gently, his fingers toying with my pubic curls while his other hand worked the controller. I couldn't tell if he was seriously planning to play that way.

Withdrawing his hand, he gave one cheek a playful slap and sent me to get his coffee as he focused on the screen, taunting the other players through his headset.

After another hour, he decided to give his hand a rest and we adjourned to watch TV. He had queued up several episodes of his cult-favorite science fiction series, not my cup of tea. He welcomed me to sit next to him, taking advantage of my exposed parts. A few minutes into the episode, he revealed his intent.

The same way I had teased him about the chick-flick we watched, he began to test my knowledge of his show. Do you know what planet those aliens are from? Why can't they use the hyperdrive to get away? Whenever I got anything wrong, I'd get a pinch or poke and a lecture. By the third episode, I had learned to recognize aliens by their makeup and prostheses.

After some snacks, we watched a new blockbuster movie and I paid close attention to enjoy it with him. Fortunately, it wasn't a sequel, so there was no backstory I was missing. It had a damsel-in-distress physicist--all female scientists wear high heels, short skirts, and tight, half-open blouses, don't they? Of course, the bad guy tied her up sexily before brainwashing her to betray the good guy. Fortunately, her love for the hero allowed her to break her programming just in the nick of time. How many clichés can one movie have?

We had been sipping wine and cuddling for the second half of the film, despite my odd apparel. He kissed me deeply as the credits ran, then got to his feet and helped me to mine.

"Well, Professor Pam," he addressed me sternly, "since you have discovered my plan, I have no choice but to take control of your mind."

"Never!" I said defiantly, playing along.

"We'll see how long you can keep your sanity," he said evilly. He pinned my arms behind my back and forced me to the game room. In those heels, I was just trying not to fall over. He deposited me on the throne and quickly bound me to it. Using our easy-fasten restraint straps, he wrapped my wrists to the arms of the throne. Loops around my shoulder and armpit pinned me against the back. More straps tied my feet--still in high heels--and knees--spread wide--to the legs of the chair.

Busy watching my husband bind me and mock-struggling against the process, I had not considered that the virtue of the throne was now a danger. The opening below the seat left my intimate area vulnerable.

"The drug that I slipped into your wine is working its way to your brain, making you more excited," he taunted. Of course, the alcohol was having that effect, too. "Soon, I will apply my Orgasmizer to your helpless body. You will not be able to resist, and when your climax floods your brain with dopamine, it will turn you into a love automaton."

"You will become a slave to the next person you see," he did his best wicked laugh, placing the blindfold over my eyes. Playing my part, I tested my fetters. As much as I might writhe, I wasn't getting loose.

"Yow!" I yelled, feeling a sharp pain in my right nipple. It was an overreaction because of the surprise, but he had yanked the clamp off. Moments later, his moist tongue and soft lips soothed it. I was enjoying the warm feelings that his gentle sucking spread when he ripped off the other one. Again, there was a spark of pain that was eased when his mouth moved to the other side.

Finished with my breasts, he moved away. Blind and immobile, I got my own taste of sensory deprivation as I tried to hear what he was doing. I flinched when his finger touched my thigh above my stocking but relaxed as it tickled the exposed skin. It wandered into my crotch, exploring my patch of fur. He gently stroked my vulva, tracing the split, lightly probing until I gasped when he zeroed in on my clit.

"Ah, there it is. Your pleasure center. The shortcut to your brain," he mused as he fingered my folds. Whether wife or professor, I was getting turned on and couldn't hide it.

"Do you know what this is?" he menaced. I could feel something firm against my genitals but didn't recognize it from the contact. He added some lubricant so it would slide against my tender flesh. It had an odd shape.

Suddenly, I realized what it was--the high-tech vibrator I had purchased with him at the mall on our anniversary weekend. I hadn't even opened the box. Designed for hands-free female gratification, the "C"-shaped device was longer and thinner on one end and wider and shorter on the other. When the long part was inserted into the vagina, the wide part nestled against the clitoris. The long end was even curved to seek the g-spot.

Teasing my opening with the well-lubed tip, he eased it into me. It began a gentle pulsing as he worked it deeper. The penetration reached its limit when the other part pressed against my inner lips. That part came to life with a familiar buzzing that woke up my clit.

I squirmed as he adjusted the position. When properly placed, it would tend to stay there. Satisfied, he let it go. The vibrations from the two ends began to change independently. As the salesman had explained, he could control it manually, use one of the autopilot patterns, or create a custom pattern. Whichever technique he had chosen, it began to work its magic on my pussy.

He moved away, apparently happy with it. I was getting happier with every change as the two ends danced with different rhythms, sometimes synchronized, sometimes syncopated.

"You won't resist the Orgasmizer for long," he whispered hotly in my ear. "Then you'll be mine forever."

My voice caught as I protested, "Never!" That clever throbbing buzzing gizmo was going to turn me to the dark side. I tried to put on a show of pulling on my restraints, but my cooch was demanding all my attention and my wriggling just made it tingle more.

"Yes, lovely," he said, and I swear I heard his lips smack as he returned to my breasts, apparently attracted by their motion as I struggled. My swollen nipples were conspiring with my genitals to get me close to orgasm and defeat. His fingers mashed the soft orbs while his lips chewed the firm tips.

Whether planned or based on my rapid excitement, the intensity was reduced and he abandoned my chest. In response to my sad whimper, he teased, "No, professor, not yet. We have to build up to full strength to make the control permanent."

The character wanted the stimulation to stop, but the actress had a different opinion. Rotating through different patterns from almost too sharp to barely detectable, it kept us both frustrated.

The villain was silent. Was he watching me from across the room or leering from inches away? Sightless, the only sense of time was the cycle of vibration, floating me on gentle gusts of pleasure.

"Hey!" I yelped. Something had poked my backdoor. Distracted by a crescendo of buzzing and throbbing between my legs, I hadn't noticed his silent approach from behind under the chair.

"Since you resist, I'll have to use stronger measures," he cackled from below. He pressed the tip between my cheeks, teasing my pucker.

It was completely unexpected and for a moment I considered using our default safeword--calling his full first, middle, and last name, as your parents might have when you misbehaved. Without any warning or preparation, I worried he could encounter something embarrassing back there.

The initial shock faded as the probe spread its lubrication and slid across and around my rear entrance, expanding the burgeoning heat from my front. My love of and trust in my husband reasserted itself. He knew the risks; I would go along with him.

"No, you monster, not that!" my in-character response conveyed my willingness. Intentional or not, the provocation had enhanced my method acting. I thrashed about, building my tension and no doubt entertaining him.

When he pushed it against my opening, I realized Jim had warmed the dildo as well as greased it. The pulsing in my cunt helped me relax and before long the bulbous head popped past my sphincter. Slowly insinuating its way upward, it dissolved all reluctance, voluntary and involuntary.

I wished I could have seen Jim's face under the chair as he played out his fantasy. My performance would not win any awards, but his approval was all I cared about.

Finally achieving the penetration he wanted, he slowly fucked my ass with the veiny, ridged, phallus, the texture tickling my orifice as it slid in and out. Without seeing it, I could not be certain, but I thought it must be the dildo from the strapon we bought with the vibrator. He was getting his retribution. The motion became synchronized with the vibrations and I had no more ability or desire to prevent it. This crescendo would be the last.

"You bastard!" I groaned, as my body convulsed. "You win!"

The sweet spasm jerked my muscles, futilely pulling against the bonds. The constraints bottlenecked my orgasm, keeping me quivering as the high-pressure pleasure sought its escape. Instead of a bang, it was a long dissonant train whistle, vibrating every bone. My breathy moans were hardly in protest, and I was not a good enough actress to hide the elation I was feeling

Jim let me enjoy it then had his Orgasmizer wind down before he gently wiggled it off my sensitive clit and out of my soggy cunt. When he withdrew the dildo, somehow my rectum went from feeling too full to feeling too empty.

Floating in the afterglow, I hardly noticed Jim quickly unfastening my restraints. My body limp, he lifted me and carried me to our bedroom.

"Look upon your master," he proclaimed as he laid me down and removed my blindfold. "Now you are mine forever!"

Blinking my eyes open, I saw that he had removed his clothes at some point. His eyes, mouth, and cock looked at me hungrily.

"Yes master, I am yours forever," I said, trying to sound like a love automaton, but I'm afraid it came out too sincerely.

"Roll over," he ordered, and I got on my hands and knees, guessing how he wanted me. In the mirror, I saw him slather lube on his rod as he knelt between my feet. With my butthole already slick and recently plumbed, he slid in easily.

Lowering my head to the mattress, I welcomed his deep penetration. I didn't want to just give him my body, I wanted him to take it. After a few long, smooth strokes came the first real thrust; my ass cheeks absorbed it with the sound of a slap.

Grabbing my hips for leverage, he pulled me to him as much as drove into me. His thrusts became faster, shorter, harder. I felt his strength in his grip and the impact of his body against mine. As he found his pace, I rocked in counterpoint, each jolt rippling through my body.

Our eyes met in the closet door mirror, not husband and wife but villain and automaton, lion and lioness. Thought faded as we regressed to primeval behavior and sensation. We shared no words of love only grunts and moans.

His rhythm broke as he cried out, his final jabs controlled by his spurting into my ass. When he had no more to pump, he ground his warm body against my soft spheres. Leaning forward, he flattened me to the mattress, cocooning me between his lumpy weight and the bed. His penis twitched with aftershocks in the clench of my asshole.

In a while, we would get up. I'd strip off my silly costume. We'd clean up and cuddle between fresh sheets and drift off to sleep.

Until that time, though, I would feel inappropriately joyful--imprisoned, owned, grateful. Immobile, his cock piercing my butt like a pin through a butterfly in a collection, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

So we concluded our special month. We would give my throne a rest for a while but would use it again when I was feeling lazy or he needed to be put in his place or we wanted to find some new way to use it.