How I've Spent the Last Six Months Part Nine

So for the next few days, I lived the strangest double life you could possibly imagine.

One moment my husband would be moody and quiet and avoid talking or looking at me – the typical behavior of a jealous husband who’s just found out his wife was fooling around with another man. But then he’d get all lovey-dovey and sexual and fuck me – I mean REALLY fuck me – while talking about the dirty shit he’s going to make me do.

Getting another guy to fuck me. Making me pick up strange men. Gangbangs. Gloryholes. Orgies.

To be honest, it started to lose it’s appeal after a day and a half. I mean, I loved the passion and energy he showed while he ground his throbbing dick into me, biting my shoulder, squeezing my tits, slapping my arse and cumming in buckets deep inside my pussy… But I started to feel like a piece of meat.

It’s like he couldn’t bear to be intimate with me unless he was talking about another guy fucking me. I’d stopped being his wife – or his LittleKittySlave – and just became a whore he wanted to use and abuse. It stopped being sexy and started just getting weird.

The worst part was when he got his rocks off and came. Then he’d suddenly flip back to being moody, distant and jealous. I could tell my confession had both inflamed and disgusted him. He’d never found me more sexually attractive but he was disgusted by me as a person.

Eventually, I had enough. Recapturing a little bit of the bossy career bitch attitude I showed earlier that day at work, I sat down and said: “What are we going to do?”

“About what?”

I explained how I felt and he nodded in mute agreement.

“I can’t stand it,” he eventually admitted. “It’s like I’m going mad. Careful what you wish for and all that.” He shook his head. “I’m just so hurt and angry about what you did.”

“How are we going to get over that,” I demanded. “Can we get over it? Are we going to have to get a divorce?” I honestly thought that was what it would come to.

Eventually, Hubby said something that surprised me.

“I just want to see it. To be in control of it.” He explained. “I think I’ll be okay with it if I can see you with another guy and get it out of my system.”

“You mean you want me to…?”

“I want you to fuck another guy,” Hubby nodded, and I could already see a lump swelling in the front of his trousers. “I want to see you suck his cock and lick his balls and be the totally submissive slut… But I want to be there and be in charge. I want it to be on my terms so I can deal with it.”

I guess I could understand that. Sometimes I’m a bit masculine in my thinking (helps in the office, I can tell you) so I guess I couldn’t get the subtle difference between me sucking another man’s cock at my husband’s insistence (his ultimate fantasy) and me wrapping my lips around a dick in my own spare time (like I’d done with Darren.)

But men are fragile, insecure little creatures. They like to think they’re in charge.

In any event, just talking it through did help things. Hubby put his arm around me while we watched House that evening. He laughed and joked as we did the washing up. Things almost seemed to be returning to normal.

Were we any closer to Hubby actually making good on all his fantasies? Well, I hated to undermine my new, dominant Hubby – but I’d believe it when I saw it.

How I've spent the Last Six Months Part Eight

So imagine this.

The marriage you’d just condemned has suddenly been resurrected. The wimpy, pathetic, hateful husband you’ve detested and derided for the last three months suddenly ends up landing a job that earns even more than you do. You go from having no sex for almost three months to Hubby dragging you upstairs, throwing you face down in the pillows and fucking you hard and fast and fucking BEAUTIFULLY until you scream into the cushions and Hubby deposits a pint of sticky stuff deep inside your creamy little cunt.

Now I’ve never had a second honeymoon (we hardly had a first – I got food poisoning the second day in) but that week really felt like it. I have never found my husband sexier or more dynamic. He wasn’t the useless fucking prick I’d accused him of being. He was the beautiful, muscular man with the good job and that long, thick, hard cock that seemed to be permanently hard every time I touched it.

I actually took two days off work – and I’ve NEVER taken a day off work – the stay in bed with Hubby.

We took the collar out and I he was deliciously dominant for an entire day. He kept me naked from morning until night. He tied my hands behind my back and pounded my pussy until I screamed. He took a cheap plastic fly swatter and went right to town on my big, round ass – and I loved it.

In fact as much as that fly swatter stung – and MAN did it sting – that was the best part of it all.

Hubby must have been taking three months anger and frustration out on my arse. I was accepting it for all the things I’d done my Hubby had no idea about.

Lying face down on the bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, I gritted my teeth and took the blows.

WHAP! Whap! WHAP! Oh, Christ, I thought I’d die.

“You’re a dirty little slut,” he’d bark.

“I’m a dirty little slut, Master,” I sobbed – and I really was.

As the next three stinging blows set my arse aflame, I remembered the taste of salty cum and cocoa butter all mixed up on Darren’s pale, torpedo penis.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Oh, it was glorious. Being punished for my sins!

“You’re a bossy little bitch!” Hubby roared. “You need to be taught obedience.”

Oh, God, I did. I just wanted to melt into a little puddle. I just wanted to disconnect my angry, confused, busy brain and drift in dreamless, delicious obedience.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

And then it stopped.

This was my favourite bit. When Hubby lovingly rubbed and caressesed my stinging bottom. When he breathed hotly into my ear.

“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you,” he murmured. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you too.”

“Yes, Master,” the endorphins were racing around my body. I was drunk with them. “I’ll do anything you say.”

“You’ll suck my cock. You’ll offer up your pussy and your arse.”

“Mmmmmm,” I purred in affirmation, biting my lip.

“You’ll do whatever I tell you. To whoever I tell you.”

My pussy was tingling.

“Please, touch me,” I begged.

“Tell me what I want to hear…”

I had no idea what he wanted to hear, but I made a pretty good guess.

“I want to suck your cock,” I groaned. “I want to lick your arse. I want you to fuck me and frig me and use me.”

His thick fingers reached between my thighs. The wet, fleshy folds of my pussy parted for him.

“Oh GOD,” I groaned, nearing the delicious surrender of orgasm.

“I’m going to have you fucked from here to Friday,” Hubby breathed hotly in my ear. “I’m going to screw you until you can’t stand. And then I’m going to let them have you.”

Who’s them, I wondered. As if reading my mind, Hubby purred:

“I’m going to find out just how submissive you can be, my little kitten,” oh, he was going to make me EXPLODE. “I’m going to put you to work on as many cunts and cocks as I can find.”

“You’ll… get… jealous….” I groaned, flashing back to Darren’s dick throbbing and spitting and spurting in my mouth.

“No,” Hubby hissed. “Whoever. Whatever. Whereever.”

His fingers worked their magic. I exploded in a glorious, technicolour orgasm.

I lay there, shuddering and shivering. Hands still tied behind my back, I couldn’t stop Hubby prising open my thighs and sliding his enormous erection straight into the gooey, moist heart of me. His hips banging against my enflamed bum was intense, but I was too exahausted to do anything. I just lay there and took it.

“I can’t wait to watch another man do this,” Hubby grinned, grinding away at me. “I can’t wait to watch you get fucked and suck a big, fat cock at the same time.” As if to demonstrate, he offered his fingers and I obediently, unthinkingly sucked them into my mouth.

Sweet, sweaty surrender. Just to fuck and suck and cum instead of thinking. Just the thought of lying there and satisfying somebody. Anybody.

“I sucked somebody…” I groaned.

Hubby’s pounding slowed.

“W-what..?”

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

“While we were fighting,” I explained. “When I went up to Birmingham.”

I swear to God his cock swelled.

“Who was it?” He started pounding me again now, really roughly. “Who the fuck was it?”

“You don’t know him,” I groaned, feeling his penis slid deeply inside of me, massaging my g-spot from an exquisite angle. “He’s just some kid.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“Y…yes…” I groaned. “In the ass….”

Ow! Hubby had just grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched by head back.

“He fucked you in the arse?”

“No!” I cried. He was hurting me. “I fucked HIM. In HIS arse. With the rabbit. And I sucked him at the same time and…” oh, that had crept up on me, “and…” I let out a low moan… “And I’m cumming!”

Hubby let go of my hair. I flopped down into the covers.

Slap! Slap! Slap! His hips hammered against my arse.

“Did he come in your mouth?” Hubby demanded.

“Yes,” I groaned woozily. “A lot.”

“You fucking slut,” His hand was on the back of my neck, crushing me to the bed. “You fucking little slut. I can’t believe you sucked another guy’s cock…”

And then the delicious moment came.

“…without me being there to see it.”

He dug himself so deeply into me it hurt. The thick, meat missile buried inside of me throbbed. I felt him unloading himself inside my greedy pussy, deeper and harder and more intensely than I’d ever felt him cum before. Even as I confessed my betrayal, I felt more connected and closer to him than ever before in my life.

How I've Spent the Last Six Months Part Seven

So life as it was returned to normal.

And pretty depressing that normal was.

Work was going well. I was kicking arse in the regional sales charts and my aggressive focus on work meant I’d hit some sales targets (and got the resultant commissions) which pretty much made up for the income Hubby had flushed down the toilet when he’d lost his job.

But although work was going okay, life at home was pretty shitty.

Hubby was still disappearing off three evenings a week and every Saturday. I had been planning to confront him about it, but after the business with Darren I just wanted to lay low and let things cool down. I even tried to sleep with Hubby one time, but it didn’t work out when I insisted he wear a condom.

“A condom? I’m your husband!”

I tried to explain that I was worried about getting pregnant (I’m still not on any form of birth control) but the truth was, I was terrified of catching some disease he’d picked up from fucking that prostitute of his. In any event, sex didn’t happen and the gap between Hubby and I got even bigger.

It had been about three months since Hubby lost his job and I was just getting my confidence back, ready to confront him, when Hubby called me at work.

“We need to talk.”

My stomach plummeted.

This was it, I figured. Hubby was going to admit his failure and tell me he was leaving me to go and live with his hooker girlfriend. Not only had been cheating on me – now he wasn’t even going to give me the satisfaction of dumping him.

But that evening, when I got home, I found him bent over a bubbling stove and a bottle of my favourite chardonnay open on the dining room table.

“Listen, I know things have been fucking awful,” he told me, holding my hand and pouring me a glass of wine. “But I’m ready for them to change. But first there’s something I need to tell you.”

Oh for fuck’s sake! My eyes were welling up with tears. Here was this arsehole husband of mine, cheating on me with a fucking junkie prostitute and I was CRYING?

“I k-know…” I sniffled, trying to look angry and defiant instead of sniffly and pathetic. “I’ve known for a while.”

He let go of my hand.

“You do?”

I nodded. Big, fat tears rolled down my cheek.

“Oh…” He looked downcast. “What do you think?”

“Think?” Thank God, the anger was coming back. “What the fuck do you think I think?”

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Hubby raised his arms.

“That that bad?” I sobbed. “You’re off every Saturday fucking that… that… diseased SLUT.”

“What.”

Hubby looked at me like I’d just turned into a lemon.

“I know all about your WHORE!” I sobbed. “I know all about the hundred quid you take out every Friday. I know how you…”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hubby balked. “WHAT?”

“The whore…”

“What whore?”

“Every Wednesday and Saturday. You go and spend it with HER.”

Hubby’s eyes bulged.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve been taking French lessons.”

What?

“I signed up three months ago,” Hubby explained. “I heard there were really good jobs going with some of the Paris firms, so I started learning the language.”

“B-bullshit,” I sniffled.

“No, it’s true,” He reached over the table and handed me an envelope. Inside was a smart looking diploma from the college in Basingstoke.

“W-what?”

“Every Wednesday and Saturday,” Hubby explained. “It’s intensive. I got an A.”

“But the hundred quid?”

“That’s how I paid for it,” Hubby explained.

“B-but why didn’t you,” sniff, sniff, “tell me?”

“Because you were furious with me,” Hubby explained. “I wasn’t earning any money and I knew you’d get pissed off if I went back to college instead of finding a job. So I started teaching those classes to pay for it.”

My mind was reeling. I mean, not only had Hubby NOT been cheating on me… But he’d got up off his arse and done something I’d never imagined him capable off.

Oh! And what a cold hearted slut I felt! I’d CHEATED on him!

“But Darling,” Hubby continued. “There’s more. I got a job.” He handed me another envelope, this time with the logo of a famous French computer company.

“It’s all in French,” I sobbed.

“I know, I know. But look at that.”

There was an amount in the letter written in Euros. Now I know euros are worth less than pounds, but this still seemed like an awfully large amount.

“That’s what you’ll be earning?” I sniffed. “Really?”

Hubby nodded.

“But there’s just one thing,” he said solemnly. “The job’s based in France.”