("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: husband2.txt (Mdom/FM, swingers) Authors name: Alcibade (Address Defunct) Story title : Husband - Part 2 ------------------------------------------------------ -= This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1995. =- Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non- commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------ HUSBAND (Part 2) By Alcibade ** I'm not sure what I expected from Peter during the week leading up to our "vacation," and to Charles' arrival. He didn't exactly mope, but he was strangely withdrawn and reticent. He seemed to want to avoid discussing what had happened and what was about to happen, so I didn't push the issue. On Sunday night, and then again on Monday, he had attempted to initiate a lovemaking session. I couldn't decide if he had simply forgotten about the prohibition, or if it was a test of some kind, but I gently and firmly put a stop to it. After a deep sigh, he rolled over and fell asleep. I had decided that, if we were going to do this, we were going to do it right. Peter lacks a certain amount of self-discipline; I've been told that I have too much. I got home from work on Wednesday evening to find the promised letter, addressed to me, in the mail. As expected, there was no return address. The only enclosure was a list of serial #'s and the name and address of a store located in the seedier part of town. I'd never heard of it, but I put the list and address in my purse and called work to tell them I would be in late on Thursday. I told Peter about the letter at dinner and that I would be stopping there Thursday morning. He only nodded and continued to pick at his food. Thursday morning I stopped at the store. It would be an understatement to say that I was extremely uncomfortable and nervous. I wondered how often a single young woman, dressed in a conservative business suit, shopped here. There were a lot of pornographic videos, adult toys, etc. The few customers in the store were men who seemed to be a touch resentful that I was hovering about (actually, I wasn't "hovering," I was trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. It didn't work. I felt conspicuous as HELL). I handed the clerk, a balding, fat slob of a man, the list. He seemed to be expecting me and, after practically licking my body with his eyes, returned with a large bag. I paid what he asked without checking the contents and got the hell out of there as fast as I could. Thursday night I put the bag, unopened, in the back of our bedroom closet and forgot about it. On Friday night, Peter and I went out to dinner and did some dancing to celebrate the beginning of our vacation. I was starting to get a bit horny over the past few days, and the dancing didn't exactly quench any fires. Peter had a hard-on the whole night, but bravely "kept it to himself" on the dance-floor. My panties were soaked by the time we got home. I hadn't had sex in nearly a week (okay, it may not be that long for SOME people...), and had avoided masturbating. As I lay in bed Friday night, listening to Peter's rhythmic breathing, I suddenly realized that the weekend was here. I was beginning to get a little scared about what the next week would bring. The excitement, though, was almost palpable. So much so, in fact, that I didn't drift off to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. ** On Saturday, Peter and I moved his things out of the closet and dresser and into the guest room just down the hall from our master bedroom. We stayed up and watched a movie, then slept in separate beds in our own home for the first time in our marriage. It was a strange, strange feeling. I kept telling myself that this was what he wanted... ** DAY ONE: Sunday We spent the day doing some laundry and housecleaning, then tinkered in the yard with a new patio that Peter had been "installing" for what was now going on 3 months. Covered with dirt and sweat, we worked until about 3:00. "I guess we better get cleaned up. We've got company coming in a couple hours," Peter said, tossing the various rakes and shovels in the wheelbarrow. I wiped my hands on my dirty sweatpants and stood up. "Peter?" He stopped and turned to look at me. "Yeah?" "Still sure you want to do this? It's not too late to change your mind. I'll understand." He put the wheelbarrow down and crossed his arms. "I'm sure. How about you?" "I'm sure, too. I'm just worried that things might not work out like you expect. And I'm worried that it might somehow affect us. Our marriage, I mean..." I said. I'd made my decision to give my heart and soul (and body) up to Peter and his fantasy. Had he? This had the potential to be terribly exciting and fun, but it also had the potential to be a great disaster. He came over and kissed me, sweetly, in the middle of my forehead. "Everything will be just fine, darling." ** After showering, I put on a bright and colorful sundress over a skimpy pair of hip-cut cotton panties. Peter wore a pair of brown slacks and a white dress- shirt open at the collar. We settled in the living room with some books, sipping a soft Bordeaux and listening to Mozart's Die Zauberflute, and waited. At precisely 5:00 p.m., the doorbell rang. I hesitated for a moment and, when Peter didn't get up, assumed that I was to answer it. I moved quickly to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. The man standing before me, between two expensive suitcases, was, if you'll forgive the trite and hackneyed expression, tall dark and handsome. Black hair, graying at the temples (45, maybe 50 years old?) with wide shoulders and slim hips. Handsome, but austere face, with piercing, steel-gray eyes; the kind of face women fall in love with even knowing full-well the potential for heart-ache and pain (even violence?) that such a face and eyes portend. While his bearing screamed refinement and elegance, he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The muscles on his arms were well defined and sculptured, but not massive like a weight lifter's. More like the graceful sinews of a swimmer. Peeking out just below the left sleeve of his shirt was the bottom part of a tattoo. I couldn't make out its details. Our eyes locked momentarily. Quickly, I had to break the gaze and look down at the steps between us. There was something there I wanted very much to explore, but just as strongly needed to avoid. "Hello, Linda. My name is Charles. I believe you and Peter are expecting me." I recognized the voice immediately from our previous telephone conversation. A very masculine, professionally trained voice. Smooth and undulating (a "melt in your panties" kind of voice). There was that edge, though, that edge of danger and power that remained unmasked in its timbre. I suddenly realized that he had been standing there for an uncomfortably long time. I opened the door and motioned for him to enter. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm in another world," I said, laughing nervously. " Please come in, Charles." He entered and set his suitcases near the stairway. "Thank-you, Linda." "Peter's in the living room. Would you like something to drink? We're having a nice dry red wine..." "I don't drink. Thanks anyway. Let's move into the living room." As we entered, Peter rose from the couch, smiled and shook his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Peter," he said. Then, to me, "Peter and I met once before." There was a nervous silence. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?" I asked. "No, I'm just fine." I smiled and nodded. As I moved to the couch to have a seat, he spoke again. "I see no point in wasting a lot of time with pleasantries. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other as the week progresses. I prefer that we begin talking about some necessary things. Go ahead, Linda, have a seat on the sofa. Peter, you may sit in the center of the floor, please." As we settled, Charles leaned back against the mantle of our fireplace and folded his arms. He glanced around briefly at the room, then looked intently at Peter and I in turn. "Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home and into your life," he began. "The relationship we are about to form is purely consensual on your part and on mine. The primary ingredient of this relationship is the fact that I now have total control over your lives, a control that you have voluntarily relinquished. If that control is ever questioned or tested in any way, I will walk out the door and the 'game' is over. That's not going to happen, though. I rarely need extraneous methods to 'control' people." As he talked, he smiled sweetly like a little child who doesn't know what the words mean, telling you to fuck-off. He looked at me with unblinking eyes and continued. "Linda, your husband may own your soul and heart, but I own your body for the next week. When I tell you to do something, do it immediately. Never question me, never hesitate, never fail to do everything within your power to comply and to please me. Are we of a like mind?" I looked into Peter's eyes as I answered. "Yes, Charles. We're of a like mind." His gaze fell on Peter. "Peter, you just heard your wife pledge her body to me. It no longer belongs to you, or her, in any way. Do you understand the implications?" "Yes, I believe I do." "No, I don't think you do. I think she has a better grasp of what this is going to mean, as well as the full potential inherent in this situation. True submission is only understood through experience. But no matter. As your wife learns to prostitute herself to me, so will you, to both her and me, in many ways. Do you realize that, just as your wife would comply immediately if I told her to turn around and bend over so that I could fuck her in the ass, so that same power and its ramifications now looms over your head, Peter? Submissive fantasies are one thing, but the reality of submission is so much different, so much purer and clearer. It goes to the bone like a spinal tap. Have you ever sucked another man's cock, Peter?" Peter's face was turning very red. He didn't look up when he answered. "No." "No, I didn't think so. I haven't either, but then I've never been in the position you've put yourself and your very cute wife in. Your wife knows the joys of cocksucking, though. She has learned, I'm sure, the little secret that there is a tremendous amount of power in submission. A little bit of advice that will help you through the coming days and nights: don't submit a little bit. Submit totally. Put everything you've got into it, Peter, or you'll have a very hard time of it." He shrugged. "I couldn't really care less, but it is your fantasy, after all. Accept the many humiliations that I give out to your wife, and that your wife and I give out to you, and the time will be so much more pleasant for you, so much more erotic. In other words, learn to submit like a girl, Peter. Learn the pleasures of giving up the pink." Charles was pacing now, his hands in his front pockets, thumbs out. Dear god, I was starting to get so turned on.... He suddenly leaned down, cupped Peter's chin with his hand, and looked into his eyes. "Make no mistake about it, Peter. Your wife is going to be debased, humiliated and used. We're going to act out games that would bring a blush to the cheeks of a jaded whore. Her mouth, cunt and ass are going to be reamed out like they never have been. Her and I, and maybe even others of my choosing, are going to do things you never dreamed of. Some of them I may even let you watch. Nope. There will be no "loving" around here for a while, Peter. Just a whole lot of fucking going on. And when I'm tired of fucking her, her and I are going to fuck YOU!" He let go of Peter's chin with a curt shove and looked up at me. "Linda, your little husband has an erection. Come here, kneel down, and take it out. You and I want to see his cock, don't we?" I moved to Peter, knelt down, and unzipped his pants. I removed his hard cock, already wet at the tip, and began to stroke it. He leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. "Look at me, Linda," Charles said. His long legs rose behind Peter's head. I looked up into the pools of steel at the center of his eyes. "Tell your loving husband how pretty he will look sitting on the tip of my hard prick. Tell him how excited you will be, how proud you will be, how you can hardly wait, to see his lips around my cock. Tell him the truth." My cunt throbbing and wet, I told him. Continued in Part 3... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 13