Brown Eye Blues

Tonight, Hubby made me do either the sexiest, or the grossest thing ever.

He had a long hot soak in a bath and then came into the bedroom all fragrant and clean. He got onto his hands and knees, his arse stuck into the air, and told me to rim him.

He wanted me to kiss and lick his arsehole.

I would have been totally grossed out by that, but he had just bathed. Plus, Hubby had fed me half a bottle of wine earlier.

Anyway. While he was on his hands and knees, I cupped his balls and stroked his hard on with my hands while my tongue slurped, licked and teased his crinkled pink arsehole.

It tasted fine. Like soap, to be honest.

And he must have liked it, because within a couple of minutes his dick was spurting onto the sheets. The combination of my tongue on his butt and my fingers on his dick brought Hubby to orgasm in double quick time.

Afterwards, I felt thoroughly disgusted with myself. I’d just spent five minutes French kissing my husband’s wrinkly arsehole. But I felt so deliciously submissive and slutty, it made me want to do it all over again,

Gang Bang I think not...

Well, my first week as a slave comes to a close.

It’s had highlights… and it’s had the opposite of highlights. I’m not sure what they’re supposed to be. Lowlights? Doesn’t exactly sound right.

Anyway. The highlights have to be when everything worked out right. I was a slave, Hubby was my master and the relationship was clearly established.

The other night was the best. I’d said something bitchy to him and before I knew it, Hubby had tied my up with belts and dressing-gown cords and laid me out on the bed. For the next fifteen minutes he pounded hell out of my arse with a leather strap, sodomized me roughly with a vibrator and then coaxed me to orgasm with his thumb on my g-spot and his fingers tickling my clit.

As I lay there, kicking and struggling, I was in heaven. Seriously, I thought I’d melt like honey into the sheets.

Then there were the lowlights. Like when Hubby fed me one too many glasses of wine and I spent the evening berating him. Targeting the fact that Hubby doesn’t earn as much as me is the quickest route to deflating his erection you’ve ever seen.

But on the whole, it went well.

It’s been a learning curve. And I’ve learned.

I’ve learned that the most important thing is to give in. You see, I’m a fucking stubborn bitch. I love to fight and argue. But that’s entirely incompatible with being a slave. It was only when Master took it into his own hands and slapped the crap out of my arse that I shut up for once.

I need to do that more often. I need to just BE submissive. Instead, if I’m not quite in the right train of mind, I treat this like a game. I’m a total fucking bitch even though he’s got his thumb up my bum and is slapping my arse like it’s a bongo drum.

I’ve got to learn to be a slave and rule number one is SURRENDER.

Anyway. As the week comes to a close, I have to admit one thing turns me on. Hubby got me SO hot when he was talking about sharing me. I’ve decided now the hottest thing in the world would be if he got six of his well hung friends around to fuck the shit out of me. THEN I’d be submissive.

Submissive and probably fucked half to death… Oh, but a gang-bang. A great big gooey gangbang, with a bunch of men screwing me and cumming in me and covering me in sperm. Wow. I’ve flicked my bean thinking of that a couple of times since Hubby came up with the fantasy.

The problem is, Hubby doesn’t exactly have six well hung friends. He’s a bit of a geek and if you think he’s bad, you should see his friends. I don’t think being fucked silly by six skinny nerds high-fiving over Star Trek reruns has the same appeal.

But Hubby’s different. I wouldn’t have married him if he was a geek.

He’s pleasantly surprised me so far. The bondage and the whip was pretty hot stuff. Maybe, if getting me fucked by another guy is SO important to him, he’ll actually arrange it and do it RIGHT.

I can dream, can’t I?

Anyway. It’s Friday night and I have to get back to my slave duties.

Bondage

Now I like a little bondage.

Bondage is probably the most important part of my slave/master relationship.

Master ties me up. Not just because he's a kinky fucker who likes to do that sort of thing, but because if he ties me up I can't do anything about the stuff he does to me.

I am supposed to be a submissive little sex slut, but I have had problems adjusting to that rule. And tying me up seems to be an effective way of making me do the things I choose not to.

Hubby wants me to suck his cock, and I don't want to.

If he ties me up, I can't help it.

Hubby wants me to lick his balls...

If he ties me up, he forces me to.

Hubby wants to shove his cock up my ass.

And I buck, and kick, and scream, and curse... But if I've got my wrists ties behind my back, there's nothing I can do about it.

So bondage is not just a kinky little extra. It's kind of the important 'thing' that makes the rest of my slave training come together. If Hubby... I mean Master... can tie me up, he can do whatever the hell he wants to me. And, at the end of the day, that's what I promised I'd let him do.

So I have been sold on bondage. I am a stroppy, difficult, struggling cow, but I am sold that tying me up is the only way I'll learn and it's the only way I'll do what he wants.

But how he ties me up is a big issue.

Handcuffs hurt.

Handcuffs are nasty things and cause bruises on wrists and ankles. For a short period, it's fine. But on the long term, bondage with handcuffs is not compatible with being the beautiful, bruise free sex goddess I know I am.

Rope?

Now rope is sexy.

Silk rope is sexy and malleable. Next to soft, white, virginal skin, there's nothing sexier than rope. And rope, when you tie somebody up, is a teasing, taunting bond that gives just enough to promise escape... But is tough enough to keep you bound.

So when you're planning bondage, I'd recommend rope. It's certainly kept me where Hubby wants me... :-)

Giving Me Away

Master’s been pretty explicit in his fantasies the last few days.

Slavery wise, things are going great. Obedient as always, I pause outside the front door when I come home and slip on my collar (which I always keep in my handbag – caused a few raised eyebrows when it fell out while I was fumbling for some gum.)

At home, I leave my clothes neatly folded by the front door and spend the entire time naked.

Hubby… I mean Master… gets his dinner micro-waved for him every night and I obediently supply him with a blowjob or fuck before bed.

But this happy honeymoon period can’t last.

Because I’ve discovered what really turns Hubby on, and it’s got me all jittery. But in a good way. Like when you’re anticipating that first slap on your backside. There are butterflies in my stomach and my mouth goes all dry, but my pussy starts throbbing like it’s got a pulse.

It all started Sunday night, when I was on my knees obediently giving Hubby his early evening blowjob.

Now, before I got into slave mode, blowjobs were purely a Christmas and birthday thing. I guess that’s why Master’s been demanding them at least once a day since we started out little Master/Slave relationship.

And I’m getting pretty good at them. The secret is loads of spit. Seriously, so much saliva it dribbles down his balls.

Anyway. There I was, seven inches of throbbing man-meat obediently lodged in my mouth, one hand between my legs, rubbing my moist cunt to a second orgasm, the second hand cupping his balls and sliding my little finger up to the knuckle in Hubby’s arsehole.

That’s when he starts to get verbal.

“God, you look so sexy doing that…”

Cue an extra little slurp and another gush of moisture between my legs.

“God,” Hubby moaned, “I would love to see you sucking some other guy’s cock.”

And that was what caused problems.

There was a gush of moisture in my pussy – in fact I came, totally without warning… But did I just hear him right? He wants me to blow somebody else.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Hubby’s eyes were closed. “I’d love to watch you give a hot, sloppy blowjob to some other guy. I’d like to pimp out your slutty mouth,” He thought I had a slutty mouth? Damn, my blowjob technique must have improved. “I’d like to watch you slurping on another massive dick.”

The submissive streak in me started to get really turned on. I did promise to be his sexual slave – a total slave. Did this mean I had to do whatever he asked? Even if it involved doing it to other people?

“You know what would really turn me on, though?” Hubby’s voice was ragged. “I’d like to watch you sucking me dick just as you are now, with your naked arse stuck out like that.”

Obediantly, I stuck my big rump up in the air like he’d demanded.

“I’d like to watch some other guy,” Hubby continued, “grab those cheeks of yours and spread your pussy wide.”

I strummed my clit even as I deep throated his cock. I think orgasm number three was on the cards.

“He’d have a massive dick,” my master rasped, “and he’d slid it inch by inch into your sopping pussy.”

Right now, with my arse stuck up in the air, I think I could have loved to have been fucked. Rubbing my clit was good… But I wanted to feeling of something big and hard and hot inside of me.

“I’d like to see you getting fucked from both ends,” Hubby continued. “I’d like to see him pound you so hard your butt jiggled.”

I wiggled my butt, just for his pleasure.

“Oh, yeah!” Hubby’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that! You’d grind that arse of yours on his big dick and make him cum.”

Hubby’s got throbbed.

“I’d like to see him spurt a huge load right inside of you,” he gasped. “I’d like to see you dripping with cum from both… both…”

Suddenly, he was grabbing my head in his hands.

“Oh fuck! You little slut!”

My mouth was flooded with cum.

I struggled to swallow it all as my own orgasm washed over me. I didn’t do a very good job. As it happened, most of his sperm poured out of my mouth and down my chin. It was a creamy flood!
*******

Some time later, I lay beside Master listening to his soft breathing.

I stared up at the ceiling and considered his little fantasy.

It’s not the first time he’d mentioned watching somebody else fuck me… But I suddenly realised that this little Master/Slave game could make those fantasies come true.

How did I feel about that? About the thought of getting fucked by a strange man. Maybe more than one… At the same time.

Yep, even as Hubby snored beside me, I rubbed out a forth orgasm.

The thing that did it for me was Hubby telling me about the guy cumming inside of me. That turned me on like you wouldn’t believe.

I’m not on the pill and Hubby gets to blow his load inside me maybe once a month, when I’m convinced I’m safe.

But being a slave wasn’t anything to do with being safe.

I was entrusting every decision to Hubby. Including who I fuck… And how they fuck me…

The thought of some stranger spurting cum inside me was almost enough to make me cum. The thought of getting more than one load inside my thirsty cunt.

Oh, God.

Still gasping, I fell right to sleep.

*******

And now I’m left with the post-coital reality of it.

Am I willing to actually go through with something like that, if Hubby ever gets his act together to arrange it?

Would I really let him give me to another man?

Did my submissiveness really mean I’d let some stranger blow his wad inside me?

On the face of it, there wasn’t a chance. At best, I’d wind up pregnant with a stranger’s baby. At worst, I could catch some disease.

But I figured I didn’t need to worry about it until it happened – and with my Hubby’s record – he couldn’t arrange a piss up in a brewery – I doubted it would ever happen.

But damn, could I get off imagining it!

Pictures speak louder than words...

So Hubby... I mean Master... was pissed off with me tonight.

Apparently I wasn't submissive enough for him. Which might have something to do with the fact that he's a total fucking pussy.

Yes, I blew my submissive slave routine long enough to tell him what I thought. And, God bless him, he did what any dominant master should do.

He tied me up and beat seven shades of shit out of my ass.

I have pictures.

An awful lot of pictures.

Disciplinary Proceedings

The Master slave relationship has been going on less that 48 hours, but we already hit a small obstacle.

For the second night, I slept wearing the collar and woke up this morning warm, snug and happy. And immediately Hubby… sorry, Master… shook me awake.

“Today,” he told me, “you will spend the entire day naked.”

“Well, switch the fucking central heating on,” I told him. I was wearing a camisole and thong and I was freezing as it was.

But apparently, dear readers, a snappy comeback is conduct unbecoming of a slave.

“What did you just say?”

I think this was the first test of our Master/Slave relationship and Hubby… sorry, Master… would have blown the whole thing if he’d let me get away with it.

Maybe that’s why I was doing it. I’m a manipulative little bitch sometimes.

Anyway. He didn’t.

I’m proud of him. Master yanked back the covers and I felt the cold chill hit me. We really ought to stop being cheapskates and put the central heating on.

“Okay,” Master said, very firmly. “We better set some ground rules, Slave. From now on, you can keep your smart little asides to yourself, understood?”

I nodded.

“Get your arse out of bed and go and stand by the wall.”

Pouting I did as I was told.

“No,” he snapped. “Over there, by the window.”

I shuffled over to the window.

Master climbed out of bed himself and yanked back the curtains.

Now this I didn’t exactly like, because suddenly I was standing against the window with the entire town able to look in at me.

“Stick your bum out,” Hubby breathed in my ear.

I wiggled my arse, which looked pretty damn sexy in a thong. I jauntily stuck it out at him. And Slap!

His palm made contact against my right arse cheek and the fat jiggled painfully.

I must have leapt forward three inches, my big breasts pressing themselves against the icy glass.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Three times his hand stung my butt cheeks, landing two firm slaps on each buttock. I gripped the window sill, by boobs and cheek pressed against the glass.

“Right then,” Hubby… I mean Master… warned me. “Are you done with the witty jokes?”

I nodded.

“Get out of your clothes.”

“But the window…” I was painfully aware that Mrs Monroe, down in 23, was pottering about in her garden. Nosy old bitch.

Slap!

“Out of them! Now!”

My butt must have been glowing red by this point. Obedinatly I wiggled out of my thong and kicked it aside. I lifted my camisole and by big boobs swung free.

I stood naked by the window, shivering.

“Good,” the was a curiously detached hunger to Master’s voice. “Excellent.”

He kicked aside my ankles, spreading my legs. I moment later, I gasped as I felt his cold fingers reach between my thighs and touch my cunt.

So the rest of the me was fucking freezing, but the spanks and his authoritative voice had made me moist.

His fingers sunk inside me and I moaned, leaning forward until my tits were pressed against the glass again.

I heard the rustling of material as Master yanked down his boxer shorts. Then I felt something hard nose around the entrance to my pussy.

The horny little bastard must have got a hard on spanking me.

Without any foreplay, Hubby guided his knobhead to my moist pussy and pushed. There was a moment’s resistance, but then I opened up and he sunk deep inside of me.

It was rougher and quicker than I liked it, but the urgency was very sexy. I groaned, closing my eyes.

Pressed against the glass, my bum stuck out obscenely, Hubby then proceeded to fuck me, hard and fast.

Although my face was pressed against the glass, I could see Mrs Monroe peeking up at me from her back garden, watching the girl with the big boobs pressed against the glass, he Hubby grunting and thrusting from behind her.

Shocked, she scurried on inside.

Hubby was groaning deeply. His breath was ragged. I knew he was close to cumming, which disappointed me since I think I’d have only been a few minutes behind him.

“Don’t cum in me,” I warned. I’m not on the pill anymore and it’s about the right time of the month to get a neatly knocked up slave instead of just an obedient one.

Slap!

His hand impacted with my thigh. Hot tears spurted out of my eyes and rolled down my cheek.

His breath was hot in my ear: “What have I told you about giving me orders, Slave?”

His cock swelled up inside of me. If he could just hold out a moment or two longer, I was sure I’d be able to ride the coattails and get to cum too.

But, oh shit! I think he was going to cum in me!

I felt my orgasm flowing the wrong way, as the implication of getting knocked up by my Hubby hit me. Oh, sure, it was all fucking sexy while he was pounding the shit out of me with our neighbours watching. But I had a job. I was the breadwinner. I seriously wasn’t ready to get pregnant.

“Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t cum in me!”

Slap! Slap! Two more stinging handprints on my bum.

He grabbed a big fistful of my hair and yanked my hair back. Then Hubby’s voice was loud in my ear, his rasping breath making my neck wet.

“If I want to cum in you, Slave,” he groaned, just seconds away from cumming, “I will do. And you’ll like it, okay?”

Oh God. My orgasm was back. Just one yank on my hair and my pussy gushed and my clit throbbed. And like that, his swollen dick was rubbing deliciously against my g-spot.

“Okay,” I groaned, just sinking into the moment. “Okay, just cum in me. Cum on me.” I closed my eyes. “Do whatever you want, Master.”

He groaned. He was cumming, I swear.

Just as my orgasm was about it hit, I felt Hubby slide his dick out of my dripping cunt and then scalding hot spurts of cum burnt my ass.

“Oh fuck,” he was groaning, wanking himself off over my bum. “Oh, Christ.”

I stood there, pressed against the glass. My cheek and boobs were icy cold. Hot globs of cum were like lava on my arse. My clit throbbed.

I lowered one hand and touched my clit and mercifully, I came.

My orgasm hit me and I shuddered and groaned just as Hubby was squeezing the last of his impressive load off over my buttocks.

We stood there gasping for a second.

God. I felt great. I hadn’t had an orgasm for weeks and that felt blissful. I was tingling. But already the hot cum was cooling, feeling sticky and uncomfortable on my bum.

“I’m going to get a towel,” I told Master.

“No,” he pressed me against the glass. “I told you I’d keep you naked all day,” he hissed, “and you’ll wear my cum all day too, understood?”

The whole thought grossed me out. But it made my tingling pussy throb.

“Now go downstairs,” Hubby hissed hotly into my ear, “and make me some breakfast.”

A Pimp by any other Name...

Well, this weekend started what Hubby has been calling ‘training.’
I slept in my collar for the first time last night and from the moment I woke up today, I was under strict orders to be in slave mode.

That in itself was fun – but Hubby and I did come across our first problem. What on earth did I call him?

‘Hubby’ is hardly a very authoritative term. His real name is even worse. For anonymity’s sake, I can’t tell you what Hubby’s Christian name is, but it’s firmly in the ‘Tim,’ ‘Toby’ and ‘Ronald’ mode.

Can you imagine? “Do me harder, Toby! I want to swallow your cum, Toby!”

We needed a name.

Hubby, nerd that he is (I’m taking a short break from wearing the collar, so I can be honest about hubby’s nerdity,) wanted to be called “The Man.”

Like, you know. “Who’s the man?”

And we’d just seen that film with Samuel L. Jackson and as much as I love my Hubby and am willing to submit myself sexually to him – he’s nowhere near cool enough to pull off “The Man.”

This whole collar thing wouldn’t last five minutes. I’d be sniggering so much I’d accidentally snort his cum out of my nose.

The second suggestion was “Pimp.”

And I know my Hubby loved that one. He just loved the idea of the pimp coat and hat and I’ve got a feeling the idea of “pimping me out” rates pretty highly on his list of fantasies. But it was all a bit too much like an episode of Scrubs for me.

Finally, along the lines of "Who's the Man," he came up with "Daddy."

Like, "Who's your Daddy?"

And this one went down like a lead balloon. I mean, if he's not "The Man," he's hardly qualified to be "The Daddy."

So when he demanded: "Who's your Daddy?" I yelled: "A little guy from Napoli."

Because my Dad's from Napoli. Just to clarify.

Anyway. Having ruled those three out, we eventually decided to just go with 'Master.'

He’s my master. I’m his little Kitty slave.

That seemed fair enough. It’s not exactly original, but until Hubby and I have tried this lifestyle for a bit, it’ll have to do.

Hubby has told me that he will be* changing his name down the line (most probably to Pimp, the geek,) but for the moment, I convinced him to stick with the more mundane.

* You can see he's got his 'Master' assertiveness going already!

Collared!

My husband bought me a collar for Valentine’s day.

I know, it’s not exactly a gold ring or a diamond necklace. But it’s something we’d been discussing for a long time now and actually it was the sweetest present. Not the collar itself – although that’s damn cute, to be honest. It’s a little pink doggy one with little silver bones on it.

No, it’s what the collar meant.

A few weeks ago, our marriage almost hit the rocks. It had been rocky for a long time. This is because Hubby is a complete pussy and I’m a total bitch. He’s a lovely guy. He’s kind and loving and considerate. But people walk all over him. On the other hand, I’m a bossy bitch. People demand results from me. I have to get my team at work to hustle their arses and I do that by being tough on them.

The problem is, this behaviour follows me back from the office and it’s how I act at home. And it’s miserable for both Hubby and me.

I was yelling at him for everything. Not having dinner ready for me. Paying too much for the weekly shop. Getting bills wrong. It was that especially which pissed me off. If he left me to sort out bills or paperwork, I would fly off the handle at him. I was responsible for all this shit all day! Why did I have to be responsible for it at home as well?

I wanted to come home from work and just not have to be responsible for anything. I wanted him to be in charge. I just wanted to be told what to do. I just wanted to surrender all those responsibilities.

Our marriage was in trouble, but one aspect that had always been good was our sex life. Hubby was always eager and horny and while he was a complete pushover at home, in bed he tended to be aggressive and dominant and that was the Hubby I loved.

I just loved him to heft me about with his muscular body and bend me into any way he wanted. About the only time I felt truly safe and comfortable in our marriage was when he had my face buried in the pillow and was fucking me hard and fast.

I wanted that feeling all the time.

A few weeks back, we had the most enormous argument. He’d spent the last year and a half being the loving, obedient husband and when I raised my voice one time too often, he blew up at me.

He yelled at me. He told me to stop being such a spoilt, stuck up little bitch. And when I tried to slap him, he grabbed my wrist and spun me around.

Now I swear, I ought to nail the bastard for wife beating, but Hubby put me over his knee, ripped my trousers down and gave me the kind of spanking I haven’t got since I was a little girl.

I swear. Slap! Slap! Slap! My arse was bright red by the time I finished.

And the weirdest thing? I totally melted.

From the moment he had me over his knee, I stopped struggling. I normally treated Hubby like shit. He was always so eager to please and did everything I asked (or demanded.)

To suddenly have him dominate me like that – to just throw me over his knee and spank seven shades of shit of out me – made me moist like you wouldn’t believe.

Now I’m not condoning what he did. I think guys who hit women are scum. But the fact is, hubby didn’t hit me. He just spanked me, like a naughty little girl.

I got so turned on by the fact that he was strong enough to subjugate me to his will. For the first time in the last five years, I actually felt powerless. And it felt wonderful.

I literally melted in his lap.

When Hubby was done spanking me, I slid off his lap onto the carpet and I swear, my arse was so hot you could have fried eggs on it. I had tears rolling down my face and the bastard had ruined my makeup. But I shut up.

For the first time in the last three years, I shut up.

I just sat there and sniffled. And Hubby was like a changed man. Instead of being so eager to please, like a little puppy, he looked tough and powerful.

I realised then and there that I wanted him to be in charge. I wanted him to dominate me, just like I dominated the girls in the office all day long.

I wanted to come home and switch off. Basically be his slave. God, that was such a turn on for me, the thought of being him submissive little slave.

And of course, Hubby wasn’t arguing with this suggestion. When I told him what I wanted (it was a couple of days later, when I’d worked up the courage) he was so turned on by it he yanked my skirt up and practically raped me on the carpet (and although I struggled, I loved it.)

But the problem was, I couldn’t do it. I found a real problem switching into submissive mode when I came home from the office each day.

When I went to work that morning, I’d be full of good intentions. But by the time I’d come home, I’d be tired and pissed off and just wanted dinner and a glass of wine. Or I’d find out he’d forgotten to do the car tax and get pissed off that there was more responsibility I was left in charge of.

It was better. I was submissive some of the time. But as soon as something went wrong, or I broke the mood, I was back in bitch mode.

It didn’t look like it was ever going to work, until Hubby, being the academic sort he is, told me about Pavlov’s dog.

Pavlov’s dog was trained to water at the mouth when a bell rang. It’s a conditioned response or something. And Hubby suggested we could do the same thing with me.

It was based around the collar.

He was going to buy me a collar. I’d take it to work with me in my handbag.

I could be my normal self at work – the super bitch. But before I opened the front door to step back home, I had to open my handbag, take out the collar and put it one.

And as long as I wore the collar, I was his slave.

It seemed like a really great idea, because before I couldn’t establish the different roles and kept turning into super-bitch when I was meant to be a slave. So with a collar, it was like a constant reminder that I was in slave mode.

It was a sexy idea and I was excited when I opened my Valentine’s Day present to find that cute little collar in there.

The question is, will it work?