Wonderful Life With My Gorgeous Hotwife (revisited)

[Tracey52]

It was all leading to this wasn’t it. I have no doubt denial will come and perhaps the part time may become more like more time with Geoff than you.

[john jasson]

It was all leading to this wasn’t it. I have no doubt denial will come and perhaps the part time may become more like more time with Geoff than you.

Yes. I was ready for someone to reply in this vein. I did say it was very difficult to write and pitch the mood for this post just exactly as it was. The problem I have is that I know what happened during the months afterwards. I can’t unlive those exciting and harrowing times, so the experience of them inevitably colours my view of what went on immediately preceding in the lead up.

The dynamic at this current stage is that both Sherrie and I know that it’s becoming very heavy but we think that it’s manageable. It’s off the scale exciting to us both, but also remember that we are still very loving, demonstratively affectionate all the time and enjoying an active sex life (further fuelled by her affair), as well as having our work and social lives tied up in each other. In everything else, we’re still “the budgies” and totally together. Without writing a chronicle of our entire everyday lives it’s not easy to put all of this across, so please try to bear it in mind when considering the excesses. Of course, this insurance of our rock solid closeness makes things all the more shocking when the derailment happens. Geoff does not know or care of our tight connection. He is the wild card, but for now, she assures me and is convinced that she has everything under control. She is always so assured in everything she does that I believe her completely.

As for denial, she’s teased me about it (as you know if you’ve read it all) right from the start of Geoff because she knows it sends me crazy and I’ve even (in not so subtle hints and suggestions) asked her to tease me this way to extremes, and she's fully capable of going to extremes. I never actually believe she will deny me totally because we both enjoy sex together too much as an expression of our love. But there's always that piquant possibility that she just might do it. All of these things are a mental balancing act which is almost unbearably stimulating, and devilishly addicting to a similar extent.

[afagehi7]

I would have never expected this to have a positive outcome but I'm glad it did.

[Johng1953]

You do get the mood across very well. Despite the fact we know you eventually weathered what's happening here I feel trepidation for the future, especially with your hints at the future 'derailment'.
You really get across too how 'almost unbearably stimulating, and devilishly addicting' it all is too, to the extent that that is how I feel about your compelling tale!

[BDJ]

John,
This one was an eye opener on several fronts...but opens a clear window into the loving relationship you two enjoy (or seem to endure at times). There is just so much to digest, too many components to make a cogent reply.

While trying to get my head around the various aspects of her confession and your response I was struck by this passage: "But the big thing is the mind game. I try not to think about it, but next thing I want to think about it. Savouring my humiliation as he would have it as he gloats over me. I imagine the feeling of him up there, but much more than that, I try to anticipate the level of submission it’s going to involve, and what exactly will go through my brain as he does the deed and makes it clear to me he’s doing it to get the better of me and tame me. And then how I reconcile it all to my normal character. I try to anticipate it, but he says it’s going to go to a level I can’t begin to imagine. He hasn’t been wrong before. I’m all at sea."

That Sherrie is willing to surrender herself fully--to give up the persona of independence she presents to the world and subsume it and have her complete submissiveness to Geoff become the core of her personality--that is almost mind boggling to contemplate. And she's giving that power of control willingly to him, and your role is merely to observe, and to offer unstinting support so she can do it; that too is significant in my mind. Perhaps I'm not reading it right. Geoff taking her ass repeatedly and exclusively is supposed to enable her to fully embrace her submissive self. But to accomplish it, in his mind, you and your relationship to Sherrie must be subsumed to accomplish that goal. Indeed, if I read this right, he's going to completely supplant you as the significant partner.

Then another passage, one where your own need to be denied as a component of seeking an ever more intense level of sexual stimuli (with her!) comes out in full force. To experience it Sherrie is to become Geoff: "S: When he takes my anus, he says I can’t give it to you anymore." This is later followed by: "S: You needn’t worry. It won’t matter when I stop having sex with you, will it? I’ll be exclusive with Geoff front and back." And while there is loving banter on how she will torment you as she gives you blue balls, the two statements reveal that her new, total submission to Geoff involves a countering dynamic with you (sexually.) It's the yin and yang of it: it completes the circle of your shared journey.

Only supremely confident and committed individuals could pull this off and remain in a loving relationship. Thank you for sharing this powerful and private experience with us.

BDJ

[livinginsin]

John,
thanks for finishing your trilogy for the New Year. It is a mesmerizing story, hard to believe that you & Sherrie experienced this escalation over a period of years. As a reader, it's unfathomable how Sherrie's submission could be any more extreme, or your own masochistic surrender to her desires.

[Maddie_Hippychick]

I’ve followed this wonderful thread from the beginning. It’s one of the most intense, well-written narratives on the site. Please, please, please! I need to know how act 2 ends and act 3 plays out. We NEED an update.

[Lensman2000]

Thanks for cluing us in many moons ago that you're now recounting the story from a place where you and Sherri are content and the relationship is still (or once again), good. Otherwise I'd be avidly watching these ominous developments with a sense of foreboding. I know that another shoe might drop but disaster won't necessarily ensue. The story and your writing are compelling.

[john jasson]

Thanks to all for your comments. Time has been short. I've been working on the next bit at intervals, but it's another of those which is difficult to pitch the mood exactly right. Back to the drawing board a couple of times! It will continue....

I've realised it's been over a year now. Much longer than I expected, so it's a bit of a climb for all of us, I guess.

[john jasson]

I’ve followed this wonderful thread from the beginning. It’s one of the most intense, well-written narratives on the site. Please, please, please! I need to know how act 2 ends and act 3 plays out. We NEED an update.

Bit puzzled by this Maddie. If you are referring to the trilogy covering our "Saturday morning in bed" session then part 3 was posted on 13th Jan. (last thing on page 28) Maybe you skipped a page?

[Maddie_Hippychick]

I’m sorry, John. I definitely could have been more clear. I was just referring to standard 3-act story form. The second act is marked by rising tension, ultimately leading to our hero facing down the antagonist, or overcoming some fault or weakness. Then the third act is where the final outcome is revealed and the loose ends are tied up. This is very common story form and is used in both fiction and non-fiction regularly. I certainly didn’t mean to imply that your narrative was fiction.

At this point in your story it’s starting to feel like we’re headed for the edge of the cliff. Does the teasing and denial get ratcheted up even more? Was there some single incident that brings this game to a head? Who is the one that ultimately breaks the “deal” and it becomes too real? How close does the marriage come to falling apart? The tension is delicious, but I’m dying to know how this all resolves.

[Tracey52]

Aren’t we all Maddie.

[Johng1953]

Aren’t we all Maddie.

I certainly am!

[4herpleasure444]

Aren’t we all Maddie.

I certainly am!

Here Hear!

[john jasson]

Hi Folks.

A happy Sunday to you all. For those who have been checking for an update the wait is almost over. There will be a very long and very intense post leading up to and into Sherrie's irresistible further submission under Geoff's domination very soon - (like in the next day or three). It's complete now, but it still needs the usual read through and check for grammar gibberish. I'm conscious that this has gone on for over a year now, and I don't want to be doing it for ever, so I need to make progress.

I also wanted to mention Chris who I know many of us have been missing since before Christmas. Chris, if you're out there I wish you well and hope things are OK.

I've already put a note of appreciation on Chris's own thread, but I wanted to mention him here too in acknowledgement of the encouragement he offered me in the early days of this thread. Always eloquent in word and generous in his praise, Chris came across as a thorough gentleman. Below is typical:

I'm absolutely blown away by this writing John, you have that rare ability to transport the reader back in time. I'm alongside you in that pub lounge opposite 'that twat' Damien, im looking at how turned on Sherrie is with red faced embarrassment, I'm feeling the humiliation as my friends look away, I'm out of my mind furious with her in the car park afterwards and I'm alongside observing at your first row too. Describing so eloquently the early stages of the realisation that you were actually heavily aroused, your realisation that the long held kink had resurfaced and Sherrie's resultant initial confusion was perfection. Writing with dialogue about remembered events as if in real time isn't easy, but somehow you've managed to capture the intensity, tension and spontaneity of those moments, and that's some achievement. It's not so much the style of writing for me as the feeling that I was there too that makes it so compelling.

Congratulations on a truly amazing start - I'm a huge fan already.

We hope to see you back soon, Chris. JJ.

Finally, a word to mark the apparent passing of xleglover from OHW. Surely one of the greatest practitioners of this genre, and quite possibly the Grand Master. We are infinitely poorer for the loss of his stories. I hope, as someone has suggested, that he is successful in monetizing his work.

[BDJ]

John,
I echo those so eloquently expressed by Chris. Your writing is truly remarkable.

Chris, and by proxy Cath, were my friends and most consistent supporters. I wish we could find a way to tell him how much we miss his presence here. Your writing is the tonic, thou, for the sadness his absence brings.

BDJ

[afagehi7]

Hi Folks.

Finally, a word to mark the apparent passing of xleglover from OHW. Surely one of the greatest practitioners of this genre, and quite possibly the Grand Master. We are infinitely poorer for the loss of his stories. I hope, as someone has suggested, that he is successful in monetizing his work.

Wait a minute, did X delete all of his stories or something? Is it somehow confirmed he's done on OHW.

[Nfhw]

John, having a whole year of enjoying your masterful story telling has been a fantastic treat. Your ability to communicate the heart pounding emotions of your adventure as been worth every minute of the periodic waits.

[john jasson]

Again. Thank you for your kind comments. The more the merrier. As I mentioned, I am really trying to push the pace along now. So if you don't like your reading long and intense, apologies in advance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It’s Saturday lunchtime now, and still we’re naked in bed. Well, apart from Geoff’s butt plug up her arse hole that is. Is there time for another fuck before we get up and eat? Knowing us, I daresay we’ll fit one in. Condoms are in heavy demand around these parts. Maybe they won’t be for much longer, but not for the reason I’d hoped when I brought up the subject.

===


All teasing aside, of course we do abandon ourselves to another fuck before we get out of bed, and by the time we rise and eat breakfast it’s early afternoon. We know it’s a disgraceful level of decadence in all senses of the word, but hey, what the hell. We only live once, and we work like Trojans every day of the working week, often well into the evenings.


We go on to spend a very together, albeit emotional, weekend. There’s lots of our special loving connection to enjoy with big hugs, tender kisses and talk about us and the future. There are interludes of agonising over what we’re doing and where the hell we’re heading, interspersed with regular reassurances of our solemn unwavering pledges that we will each remain strong for the other till the end of time – and, of course, yet more hot, febrile sex driven by the outlandish situation we’ve got ourselves into. It’s good to be alive and wonderful to be us. We don’t revisit her raging Geoff fixation in graphic detail for the rest of Saturday, but we hardly need to. He’s there in spirit, sure as hell hovering over the proceedings, and as deafeningly as a Harrier jump jet. If you’ve ever been near to one of those things in a low altitude hover you’ll know what I mean, although this kind of deafening doesn’t manifest itself in audible sound. It assaults all of your raw senses within, roaring its potency through excitement, fear and maximum sexual arousal. I feel the vibe from her too. I know she’s burning up. It’s the same for both of us.


In bed that night we just fall asleep in each other’s arms. Work and play, the past few days have been exhausting. Despite this fatigue, I could easily have brought up our number one topic of conversation and no doubt got us at it again. Maybe I even want to, but I decide it probably isn’t a good idea to be pumping her for yet more gory details. I often worry that it comes across to her as too needy. Certainly more needy than I want to appear when she sees me as her rock and her anchor. I prefer her to bring him up so I can seem cool with it all, and when she mentions his name again in passing on the Sunday morning after a good night’s sleep, I’m immediately game.


J: After all his talk about your submission and him caning you, you never said how he fucked you on Thursday night.


She rolls her eyes in dismay.


S: That’s because he didn’t. Part of my discipline. He said I looked like I wanted it too much on the Wednesday and as part of my punishment I could go without on the Thursday. Insolent girls deserve a caning and no sex, apparently. I tried the usual begging that he likes me to do without prompting, but he told me to shut up, he wasn’t joking, and to go to sleep. A minute later he was snoring.


J: I do marvel at how he can resist you sometimes. I think if I was in his position, his age, his looks, his character, I’d grab every bit of you I could. He doesn’t know when you will decide he’s had his last chance.


S: What are you saying? He doesn’t know when I’ll come to my senses and drop him?


J: You said it, but if the cap fits….


S: It doesn’t fit. He’s far too self-assured to think such a thing, trust me. He really doesn’t give a damn, and for me that’s part of his mystique, I’m sure. I don’t mean to be vain, but I’m not used to a man who can take me or leave me, but now I’ve found one and he intrigues me with bells on. To him, I’m the privileged one as a mere woman. Anyway, by Friday morning I seemed to have been forgiven, and he was raring to go again. He had me ride him reverse cowgirl before my gym session. When I take him to the hilt that way and grind down on him, it feels as though that fat bulbous cock head is remodelling the top end of my vagina. A bit too intense, if I’m honest, but I forget about the hurt when the orgasm starts. Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be dropping him any time soon, babe, to be honest. It’s just too good. God, I’m so bad.


And she’s giving me her challenging “I do what I like” look that I’ve nurtured and encouraged in her over time by showing the extent of my excitement at her behaviour and loving her unconditionally throughout. The conversation provokes more morning sex that Sunday, and we’re in bed almost until lunchtime again. At this rate, we’re going to give each other genital friction burns, so in the afternoon I suggest one of our regular weekend walks.


Sherrie is always up for a hike. She hates wasting her time shopping, but put her in a pair of walking boots out in the country, and she’s happily yours for the day. Get some fresh air in our lungs, and try to cool the fevered atmosphere a bit is my plan as we set out for the hills. We can’t seem to overcome this mindfuck that’s all around us, and prolonged erotic anticipation exercising the mind to this degree starts to ache physically when it’s not released. Even our frequent energetic sexual couplings aren’t quite scratching this incomparable itch, and I start to wonder how we will deal with feeling like this through the working week to come. We’re well accustomed to coping with her capers with Geoff by now, obviously, but this seems like a different level, just as he told her it would be. I can’t get the lurid pornographic visions I have of her extreme submission to him out of my head. What else can he possibly do to her that he hasn’t done already? I know that she’s spaced out in her wild imaginings of their next meeting. Restraint? Canings? Enemas? Anal surrender? Who knows? And as she suffers this escalating erotic fever, will she also implement her longstanding playful threat to deny me her body in order to share the “joy” of her ordeal with her soul mate? Outrageously, a part of me even half hopes that she will! It would be agonisingly delicious – at least in theory, though probably not so joyous for me in practice. This is how reckless the upward spiral is becoming as the surreal drama we are living in grows ever more potent. Maybe our walk helps a little. It’s something we always enjoy, but it’s all still there in the background. It simply won’t go away, and as we stroll through a deserted leafy glade, totally on our own in an idyllic spot, finally I have to unburden to her:


J: I’m walking along trying to hide the mother and father of all erections from the world most of the time because of you.


She giggles playfully and makes a grab for my dick, so I help her out, turn to her and embrace her, pulling her in tight to me with both my hands on her pert bottom. I really need the contact with her on an emotional level as much as anything, as we smile at each other and kiss softly, but it also gives cover for her to assess the scale of my arousal with her hand between our bodies, and she gasps as she breaks our lips apart.


S: You are a big boy! And all of this because of little me, you say? I’m so, so glad I can still get you this way, babe. Honestly, I am.


J: Me too. Most of the time! But the condition’s getting more acute. My cock aches from being this hard all day!


She isn’t one to use the C word much, so when she does, it really strikes home. She keeps her voice low as she whispers in my ear:


S: You think you’ve got problems? I’m on my third pair of knickers already today. My whole cunt is swollen. It feels laden like a hole in an overripe peach and just as wet. It’s absurd. I’m aware of the blood flow tingling down there too, and there’s like a dull aching feeling of need for action right inside the passage. An emptiness that wants filling like a hunger, and it just doesn’t go away.


J: You should know that you’re accurately describing the counterpart to the ache in my balls and cock!


S: What a disgusting pair we are! I’m so sorry babe.


Still in our clinch, and being an avid connoisseur of the moods of my darling’s hot pussy, I can’t resist the urge to thrust my hand into the waistband of her trackies and down to her crotch. She catches my intention and moves her feet a little way apart to help me. Just like she said, her whole genital area feels like it’s been inflated, and now it’s my turn to gasp my astonishment. The outer lips are engorged, pliable and covered in her secretions. Other times when she’s been very excited, I’ve touched and applied a little pressure here and those swollen lips have peeped open just enough to cover my fingers in her lubes from within. This time is quite different. The usually narrow closed slit between her outer labia is now parted by as much as an inch, I estimate, due to the swelling of her whole genitalia. Within this hungry new gash that has spontaneously appeared between her legs, her inner lips are dilated too, so her vaginal channel, normally hidden and so deliciously tight, is also open and the feel of it immediately puts me in mind of home baked cream horn pastries with the hot cream oozing out of her! Maybe it isn’t tight like it should be, but it’s sooo fucking hot to have the privilege of feeling her up in this state of palpable need for sex. She said her cunt is hungry for him and fuck, she’s such a mess down there. It’s reminiscent of times just after we met, when we would be snogging and heavy petting in the open air late at night, only much more so. Here we are, doing pretty much the same thing, a married couple out and about 13 years later, even more excited, and definitely a lot more kinky. I happen to probe my fingers a little further back, and I realise she’s has the butt plug in. Fuck! She’s still following his orders, and no doubt this is contributing to her fever of lust and this peak arousal of her body. If I had ever harboured any illusion (I hadn’t!) that she was doing all of this just to satisfy my hotwife kink, then feeling her cunt in such pressing need of her lover at this moment would have cured me permanently. I may have encouraged her to indulge in this mad affair but it’s indisputably to meet her own desires, and my revelling in it is just a happy and very fortunate bonus.


J: Fuck, Sher. That is fucking obscene. I’ve never felt you wide open like this. Not ever. It doesn’t even feel like you.


S: I know. I’m so sorry. I totally have no control over it. The urge just has me in its grip. It’s stronger than me. My only function is to fulfil it. I’m sorry, but I always warned you what could happen, didn’t I? I told you way, way back my fears over what I could become if I gave it free rein.


J: Christ, don’t be sorry, and don’t be afraid. It’s phenomenal. Just such a shock. We blokes tend to idolise our women as sweet, tender, delicate creatures, but the raw power flowing through your sex right there is incredible. It’s such a beautiful thing but there’s nothing delicate about it. It’s strong; truly awesome, and it’s clear that you are just a conduit to facilitate the power of it. It’s the eternal force of nature right there in you. The force that will be here after we are long gone. Fucking hell.


S: Oh, babe. That’s so true. It feels like exactly that. I’m so small in the face of it. I told you years ago you should have gone into science with your insightful mind!


J: I don’t know about that. I think I’ll stick to practical human biology! Are you thinking about what’s going to happen with him all the time?


S: Yeah, mostly. I can’t help it. It’s dark and it’s foreboding but if I’m honest, I can’t wait - I think. It’s mad though, isn’t it? I’ve been carrying on with him for so long you’d think I’d have it under control by now, yet I’m so hyper that I’m on the verge of asking him can I go round there all the time, but I won’t do that. I have to let it build and be patient. I’m sorry babe. It’s just how it messes with my head.


J: Don’t fret on it, sweets. It isn’t like you’re suffering on your own! Please don’t ever change will you?


S: I don’t think I could! Certainly not now. Not in the immediate future. If that’s all right? Well, even if it isn’t all right. You know how it is. You just felt it! It is what it is. Just thank you for still loving me!


She gives me one more sweet tender kiss covering many emotions, and we continue our lovely Sunday afternoon walk. All of those doubts and hesitancies, always in her head, are being swept aside by basic instinct now. Her regrets being voiced more subtly; her assertiveness about her separate sex life brought more to the fore, her apologies to me less frequent. My own feelings, meanwhile, are a mix of similar high excitement along with almighty angst. I know she values our loving couple sex beyond measure. It’s a great comfort, but I also know that on a purely physical and sexual level, I’ve never encountered her genitals in such a condition, and it’s all because of another man in her head sexually and the effect he’s having on her mind and body as he dominates her. He has her firing on all cylinders including some she never even knew she had. She is very well aware of this, and she knows I am too as we venture deeper in. We don’t speak of it out loud, but we tacitly accept that her Master holds some form of supremacy over her for now. A supremacy that I recognise could be complicated to get her out from under. A complication I hadn’t foreseen.


In a sense, it’s going to be an eternity until she sets off for swimming on Thursday, but in our other “normal” life we have to cram a lot into those intervening days. The office is hell on wheels. We’re fire-fighting on several fronts, and also trying to bring in new business as we develop the technology. Research is great for the future, but it costs a lot of money and it doesn’t pay the bills. We are professional people with responsibilities in the real world and for most of the time, tricky though it is, the sexual undercurrent, by necessity, has to take a back seat to commercial realities.


On the Wednesday there’s a setback. After our evening meal, Sherrie comes into the lounge, watery eyed on the verge of tears:


S: My period’s started.


J: Poor love. Is it very painful again?


S: Well, yes. It’s agony, but it means I’ll have to miss swimming and postpone with himself afterwards. Fuck, what a bummer!


I hold my arms open to her:


J: Come here, sweetheart.


She sits in my lap, and as I cuddle and try to soothe her, I can feel her hot tears on my cheek. She gets her phone out.


S: I may as well text him and get it over with. He treats me like a leper when I’m on. Doesn’t want me anywhere near him because he says I’m shit at everything and I stink. Fucking bastard period!


I always bristle at this stuff, and I can’t help it. The nerve of the man to treat my beautiful special angel that way despite all that she’s giving him. Meanwhile, she’s just blaming her period. How can two people as close as we are, and of one mind on most things, see this so differently?


S(to G): I’m sorry Sir. My period has started so I won’t be at swimming or gym this week.


Fully aware of the degree to which she craves his approval, I think she’s hoping for an answer, some acknowledgement at least; even a nasty barb, but nothing comes back. No surprise to me. Typical arsehole Geoff to my way of thinking. She looks at her phone every few minutes with melancholy eyes.


S(to me): Do you think I should send another one?


J: Fuck’s sake, Sherrie. No! Your subservience to this dickbrain is all theatre as part of the sexual game you’re playing. An act, you always say, by a slut actress. It’s for kicks. It isn’t real world slavery for fuck’s sake! Get a grip!


I will always remember the mournful look she gives me. It says I don’t really understand. She doesn’t want to get a grip unless it’s on her Master, and I’m being mean to her. Her face conveys her stock dismay whenever I badmouth him, mixed in with her current disappointment that whatever was going to happen on Thursday night now isn’t. Her look of consternation hits me as more troubling than any amount of swollen wet pussy she’s saving up for him. I need to divert her mood.


J: Don’t worry, love. I’ll make it better for you.


I kiss her passionately and, as she responds eagerly, as ever, I make it clear to her by my actions where this is going. She has to take a comfort break to take off her pad and change her underwear, but in not too many more minutes I have most of her clothes off, and she’s straddling me as I take her up the leg of her fresh knickers. She’s always loved the “up the knicker leg” trick from our earliest times, because she used to say it was so naughty. Seems pretty tame against what’s going down now with her, but her enthusiasm for it is undimmed. I think we both welcome the temporary relief of the orgasm. Yeah, the condom comes out of her covered in her blood, but that never bothered either of us from right back when we started, and in those days we never, ever used condoms. My cock was always honoured to be covered in Sherrie’s juices, blood or whatever. Nothing ever stopped my lovely girl and me having wild multi-orgasmic sex, messy or not, and I want to show her that she’s heavenly nectar to me wherever she may be in her cycle.


J: Your so-called “Master” is a fucking idiot to decline your favours under ANY circumstances. I just thought I’d tell you that truth.


She’s over the disappointment, at least until the climax wears off, and she gives me her premium top grade look of love. The one I live for.

J: About time too! I was beginning to think you were going off me.


She throws her arms around my neck again and buries my face in her tits. It’s a very nice place to be, and I’m sure I appreciate it even more since having to share her with the brooding male competition toying with her desires.


S: Don’t you ever think that because it’s never going to happen. It’s against all the laws of nature. Trust me. I’m a scientist. Thank you for always making me feel desirable, babe.


I can’t answer because I can’t breathe, still buried between her heavenly mounds as she crushes my nose to her heart. This is what living is all about.


So the mad carnival rolls on for yet another week of screw turning anticipation. Off the pill her periods are all over the place. Anything from two days to two weeks in duration, and she’s just praying that this is a short one. It appears that her worst nightmare would be to miss a second Thursday with him on the spin.


The next week, additional to the everyday throughput and mayhem on site, Sherrie is travelling to an international symposium being held about a hundred miles away on the Wednesday. She deems it an honour to be regarded by her peers as sufficiently in the vanguard of research and development in our field to be automatically called to these top table meetings, but in seeing it as such she is being typically modest. She is a brilliantly innovative scientist working at the outer reaches of current understanding and literally extending contemporary human knowledge day by day. The very idea of her coming home after rubbing shoulders and exchanging ideas as an equal in such august company, and then preparing for her ultimate submission to her Master 24 hours later is tough to compute for me. Knowing that she finds both ends of this enormous spectrum equally compelling and stimulating is absurdly exciting to her and to me, and it’s given additional frisson by my own perception that as a human being she is by far her Master’s superior by every measure except possibly his brute male strength and arrogance. She’s home by 7.30pm after the long drive and, I notice, looking a little glum as I hand her a glass of her favourite red when she walks through the door into the lounge.


She flops onto the sofa.


S: I was awful at that meeting.


J: How do you mean, love?


S: I just wasn’t on my game at all. Actually, I was shit!


I’m being a bit stupid.


J: That’s not like you.


S: It is like me when Geoff has promised to take me to heaven or hell and God knows where else in 24 hours time!


J: Ah. You were a bit distracted then.


I have to laugh at her perturbation, but she’s not amused.


S: You can laugh! That Helmut guy from Dresden was talking about his alpha project. It’s fascinating stuff, right out on the periphery, but I’m just staring through him because I can feel the butt plug I’ve got up my arse stretching me open ready for my Master’s fat dick, and my knickers are soaked already at the prospect. My mind was with Geoff, well, not just my mind, and Helmut is a distant voice. Then they asked me for my views about Helmut’s latest proposals, and I’m like they’ve awoken me from a deep sleep, just spluttering and waffling. Then when I came to make my own contribution, I’m still far away, and I lost my thread half way through and had to start again.


J: Jesus, Sher. You really are in a state.


S: I didn’t know what to do or say. This is my reputation in the scientific community and with our industry movers and shakers at stake! In the end I told them I’d not felt too good for the past few days. I think I even hinted in desperation that it was heavy menstruation getting to me. It’s something I would never use as a cop out in my right feminist mind. I know I sat there blushing. I shocked myself. God knows what they’ll be saying about me behind my back. I’ll be lucky if they ask me to go again. It was bad, John. Really bad. Fucking terrible.


J: Don’t be silly. I know, they know and you know that you’re one of the brightest, sharpest minds in the field.


S: Adultery is a very unhealthy obsession! I did tell you!! I know we’re both as fucking hooked as each other, so I don’t expect to get any sense out of you on it! Neither of us is going to try to stop it, are we? But it’s dangerous, I’m warning you.


I realise the undeniable veracity of what she says and I silently nod in acknowledgement. There is a twinkle in her eye, however, and her words then veer from one extreme to the other.


S: There is good news though. The period’s definitely finished.


J: Ah. Thoroughly mastered tomorrow night then?


She opens her phone and hands it to me. She texted him as she went into conference this morning, apparently. It wasn’t a long exchange:


S: Morning Sir. All clear now. The monthly curse is gone. I’ll be at swimming.


G: Wear plain clothes not shaped to your body and modest traditional female underwear. Prepare to have your view of what is your real place in the world permanently altered, girl. Drink a litre of water an hour before you leave and another just before you leave.


J: Fucking hell! What’s that all about?


S: The “girl” still makes me tremble. I wonder if it’s going to be that rather than Holland permanently now. I saw his reply before I went into the conference room. That’s why I was all aflutter in there.


For my own part I’m happier with him calling her “girl” than “Sherrie”. The night he used her given name as they had their cosy chat about her deeper submission to him really spooked me. It seemed far too affectionate. I catch the apprehension emanating from her, and it’s affecting me.


J: Are you totally sure you’re still ok with this?


S: After all this time wet and waiting? Fuck yeah! I only wish I could go tonight!


No eleventh hour change of mind then despite all of her prophecies of doom. We look at each other and can’t help laughing. Little exchanges like that can release a bundle of tension. I love how she gets an attack of crazy courage like that amidst all of her trepidation. She falls into my arms for kisses and cuddles and we eat each other up. I so love everything that she is and the way she approaches life, even this side of life. Or right now, maybe, particularly this side of life. We never did drugs but the ride couldn’t possibly be any higher than this.


S: The fact that I can’t wait doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Probably makes it more so. But it’ll be ok, I’m sure.


I think I share her confidence. I hope I do. I hope that the fickle finger of fate does too.


After the eternity of the build up, it’s Thursday evening and Sherrie leaves me, bound for swimming as usual. Tonight, at last, is the night of her grand capitulation to male chauvinism as she’s taken to calling it in a brave last minute show of levity. During the busy days leading up to it she’s been overexcited but full of doubts and fears about what’s coming. Geoff gave her the barest outline of what she will be facing, and thanks to her unco-operative menstrual cycle she’s had a fortnight to stew on it, but there are still a lot of blanks to fill in. What she knows for certain is that he intends to breach new boundaries with her. She’s done well to keep herself together and the hurly burly of two such full-on weeks has definitely helped. It’s affecting her a lot this evening though, that much is crystal clear. She’s walking a tightrope, and she can’t hide it from me. I know her too well.


As usual when she heads off for her overnights with him, she leaves me with a tender kiss and our inevitable mutual vows of undying love. She’s dressed exactly as he ordered; demure, modest. White blouse buttoned up to her neck and green skirt to well below her knee. With her bright ginger hair it’s a scaled back version of her knockout Irish flag look but this version is very understated, as befits her nervousness. The Irish look would more regularly be a white low-cut blouse with lots of cleavage, or even a boob tube struggling to hold on to her assets, and a little emerald green miniskirt enhanced by her ancestral Irish bubbly personality, but now she’s very pensive, on edge. The difference in her appearance and her demeanour on this occasion is the effect of the Geoff factor. We both know that her Master awaits.


For some reason I don’t inspect her for her bodily state of arousal before she goes, as has become our ritual. I’m probably taking it as read from the look of excited terror I can see in her eyes and the constant fervour I’ve detected in her since they last met. Or maybe I’m subconsciously giving her some respite in view of the ordeal of indignities she may face later on. Perhaps I’m even catching a reluctance on her part for me to examine her body just now. I don’t know if she’s aware, or even if I’m imagining it, but her eyes seem to tell me she’s saving it all for her Master. What will those eyes be saying to me by tomorrow?


S: Don’t worry, babe. I have to do this. I know you will worry, but I’m fine. Really. I want it. You know how much I want to explore it, and I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I chickened out now.


J: Enjoy, sweetness. Take whatever it is you take from it and enjoy.


S: Never forget I love you so much. Forever. With a dot on the top!


I watch her sylphlike rear view receding. My own sweet bundle of poetry in motion walks slowly through the garden, opens her car door and throws her swimming kit and overnight bags across onto the passenger seat. She’s just my own loving girl and she looks so defenceless standing there as she pauses to check her phone. She isn’t of course. That’s merely my own soppy romanticised view of her. In reality, she’s a strong woman with her own agenda for life which she’s getting on with. She bends to get into the car, but then she falters, hesitates; looks around at me, and suddenly she’s running back up the path like she’s forgotten something. She smiles her stiff upper lip smile, embraces me.


S: Please don’t look so worried, John. I am a big girl, you know.


J: Not with him, you’re not. You’re tiny; completely disarmed. You’ve said so yourself. But I’m ok. Don’t worry about me. Just be careful, Sher. I want you to come back good as new in one gorgeous piece.


S: I will. And I’ll tell you all about it. Whatever happens. Everything, I promise.


She kisses me again. Just lightly this time.


S: Wish me luck, John. I want to lose myself in it, and I can’t unless I know you’re onboard and excited too. Please try not to worry. I need to know you’re all fine, happy and rooting for me.


I’m trying to show her all of my support and excitement but none of my angst. It’s a tough ask because I know she can see through me just like I can see through her.


J: Good luck, angel.


She walks back to the car again, and this time she really is gone.


It’s going to be a long, difficult evening of trying to divert myself followed by insomnia until morning, then yet more agitation until I see her again. By now it’s a very well trodden path for me, but tonight is bigger.


Next time we meet is at work the following day. I’ve been visiting a couple of local general suppliers at their invitation, so I’ve been out all morning killing two birds with one stone, and Sher, of course, has her regular Friday morning gym session. I reach the office about 2pm. I know as I park up and switch off the engine that she’s in the lab. The windows are open, and I hear her before I see her. In fact, I’m flabbergasted by the sounds that assail me. In completely uncharacteristic fashion, she’s apparently tearing a strip off Rob, our lead lab technician who has been with us since a couple of months after we established. It sounds like a real stand up row between them too. It isn’t like her to shout in anger to the staff, or anyone at all, and I dash in to confront the scene in the research lab.


J: What the hell is going on?!


My uncompromising tone of voice tells them in no uncertain terms that I’m not happy, and they both shut up abruptly and look sheepishly at me.


J: Well?? This is a place of business, not a kindergarten. We don’t resolve our issues by screaming at each other.


I appreciate that I am stepping into the fray and usurping Sherrie’s authority as a member of senior management and a director of the company in this situation, but seniority brings responsibility and she should never have let whatever the disagreement is about degenerate into a shouting match. It’s highly unprofessional, not to mention most unlike her calm and lovely self. She throws a dismissive arm indicating Rob.


S: He’s not following standard elementary laboratory procedure. You sort it. I’m going home.


And she stalks out of the lab and down the corridor to her office. A moment later after collecting her coat and briefcase she’s out the door, slamming it behind her and getting into her car, leaving me standing in the lab with the highly disgruntled Rob. Rob’s a nerdy scientist cum professor type who lives alone in a remote stone cottage out in the country. He’s a brilliant researcher though, and he and Sherrie normally get along well and share a “mad scientist” bond of mutual respect for each other’s knowledge and madcap humour. It makes this bust up all the more puzzling. Bottom line: Rob may be eccentric, but he’s ok. As we stand together watching through the lab window, her car is disappearing down the road, and Rob finally breaks the stunned silence:


R: I know this is your firm, John, and she’s your wife, but I’m not taking that shit from anyone.


J: What shit, Rob? What the hell was it all about anyway?


R: Storm in a teacup, I tell you. I cut a corner in the procedure that will make absolutely no difference to the end result on this experiment. I know what I’m doing. I’m 38, not 13! Sherrie just came in at that moment, saw what I did and she went for me like a cobra.


J: Eh? A cobra?


Like I said, Rob’s ok, but he does have a tendency to speak in riddles to an abstract audience at times.


R: Yes. A cobra. And you know what cobras do, don’t you, John?


J: What do they do, Rob?


R: They spit venom, John. They spit venom. I work here because I believe in the project. I think Sherrie is a brilliant scientist and the pair of you run a happy ship and are great to work for. Usually, that is; I emphasise usually. I could get a lot more money at big pharma, and you know that. Like I said, I don’t know what is eating her today, but I’m not taking that attitude from anyone. Screaming and shouting at me like some prehistoric shrew. Boss or not, John, I don’t do venom spitting cobras. I don’t do them! I like harmony in my life.


Well seeing as he spends most of his leisure time contentedly alone miles from anywhere, he probably has plenty of harmony in his life, but his meaning is clear enough. I’ve no idea what put cobras in his mind, but I do have an idea what just might be eating her, as he put it. It could be to do with some profound humiliation she’s suffered at the hands of Geoff. Who knows what went on last night behind closed doors and how it’s affecting her?


J: OK, Rob. You’ll appreciate I have to talk to Sher and get her side, but I’m sure it’s an isolated thing. You know how much we both value you and your work here. At any rate, whatever is behind it, for now I apologise for the management involvement in a shouting match. That should never happen amongst anyone here, let alone management. We have procedures for dispute resolution, not that we should need them here among our little crew!


R: Alright, John. Yes, we agree on that, and I apologise for responding in kind.


I’ve smoothed it over, but I can well do without episodes like that. Life’s too short, and the business is challenging enough without turning it into a battleground. Luckily none of the junior lab staff were around at the time. I have maybe a couple of hours work to get through, after which I head for home a little after 4pm, wondering what awaits me. She may be pissed at me for the way I walked into her domain, laid the law down, and torpedoed her argument with her lieutenant, but deep down she’ll know she shouldn’t be doing stuff like that. Well. If she doesn’t know it, she soon will! As I drive along, my mind wonders from being antagonised by her silly behaviour with Rob to being concerned at her speeding off in a temper that way, and anxiety over her welfare and state of mind after last night. Love is for ever a tangle of constantly changing emotions of differing shades concerning your other half. And worries. If you love, really, really love, you always worry too.


When I walk in, the house is too quiet. I’m momentarily frantic, but I’m soon relieved to find her sitting quietly in the lounge in her pink dressing gown with teddy bears on the front. She looks small, somehow childlike; a little teary eyed, and I feel a huge tidal wave of protective love for her surge over me as she looks up at me. I want to wrap her up in cotton wool and never let the world, or particularly that appalling bastard, see or hurt her again, but that would never be right for my beautiful, wonderful Sherrie with all of her intelligence, vivacity and life potential. Not to mention her crazy libido:


S: I’m sorry, John, before you say a word. You know my head’s all over the place.


Then she looks guilty:


S: Was Rob all right?


J: Well, he was eventually. After he’d likened you to a venom spitting cobra and a prehistoric shrew.


She’s wide eyed at that:


S: Really?


I laugh to lighten it a bit, and manage to force the hint of a smile onto her lips.


J: Yeah, really! Not quite sure how I kept my face straight at the finish, but I couldn’t believe the scene between you two when I arrived. I shouldn’t need to tell you that you don’t ever have stand up rows with the staff. You’re meant to be above that, and getting drawn in actually diminishes your authority.


S: Of course.


She holds a hand up indicating I need say no more:


S: Like I said, my head’s all over the place. You know how I’ve been and the past 24 hours haven’t improved it. I will apologise to him on Monday. It was something and nothing really. I saw something I didn’t approve of and got a bee in my bonnet. Spur of the moment blow up. Thanks for breaking it up, though. Good thing you came along when you did before I fired him.


I sit beside her and embrace her upper body through the soft warm fabric of the dressing gown. From the feel of her, she has either nothing or perhaps just a soft skimpy bra beneath it. She leans into me needily, puts her head on my shoulder, and I feel her vulnerability. It’s a facet to her complex nature she doesn’t always like to show me, but one that I adore with all of my being when she grants me the privilege as she is now. It might be a ridiculous statement to make in the circumstances, but I love to protect her. I reply softly, hopefully soothingly.


J: Perhaps you just needed to get assertive with a male, eh? I can imagine you had plenty of the opposite with Geoff. I’d rather you take it out on me than the staff if you wouldn’t mind!


She hadn’t been anything resembling vulnerable with Rob in the lab earlier on. She’d looked like she was about to take him by the throat.


S: Yes. Geoff did things to me last night, talked to me too. Some things that are hard to live with now recalled in the past tense. It needs a lot of thinking about, babe. I’ll get used to it. I do want to get used to it, too. You need to know upfront that I regret nothing, but I do need you to help me process…. Not by judging or interfering; just by loving me and accepting… my faults.


J: When did I ever do anything else but love you unconditionally right from the moment we met? Do you want to unload it onto me now, or shall we eat first?


S: I won’t be eating. I can’t.


J: Eh? Why not?


S: Himself thought that making me fast that previous session was good for me after I’d put weight on. He said it concentrated my mind as to who’s in charge, so he told me I don’t eat after lunch each Friday until teatime Saturday unless I have a Saturday race scheduled. He’s decided it’s a 24 hour plus fasting period for me from now on, and he said it will make me more thankful to be on his diet the rest of the time.


I should be shocked, but I’m impervious to him making her bend to weird stuff by now. It’s happened so often.


S: You could get me a drink though, babe, if you would. A glass of red would definitely oil the wheels and give me courage. And you must grab some food for yourself.


Any excuse for a glass of red. That’s my girl! And suddenly I’m not hungry for some reason.


J: I obviously don’t need to ask you if you’ve been put off his regime by the excesses of last night then if you’re still on board with his instructions. Was it very tough on you, Sher? You must share this with me. All of it with nothing left out like you promised.


It’s difficult to approach this with her. To find the right way in that won’t make her clam up or make her too emotional. It can be a fine line; a lot to ask. Even though she doesn’t mean to be, she can still be very reticent at times about what her Master calls “getting her shame out”.


S: Like I said, it’s hard in the cold light afterwards. It’s going to be tough to share this with you, John. Are you absolutely sure you want me to? I mean, I think of that night you were with Diane. No way would I want a blow by blow account. I just couldn’t take it, and that was just straight sex – I think! I don’t know how you can bear hearing about some of the twisted stuff I’m doing.


J: Well you know that’s the one thing I insist on. You of all people know about inner need. It affects us all in different ways, and it’s an inner need of mine that I have to know. Whatever it is, however hard to take, I can’t bear to fly blind on it. But we’re as one aren’t we? It’s only like sharing with yourself. It can’t be so difficult when it’s me. Or I hope it can’t. Anything that shames you shames me just as much if not more, so I won’t ever judge. We’re as twisted as each other.


S: I’m still trying to make sense of it myself, but I know it doesn’t make any sense. He did things to me that I can’t ever remember being done to me before by anyone. The most intimate, private things that only….. my mother, maybe, would have done when I was tiny because I wasn’t able to do them for myself. He made me as helpless as that baby last night, John. He suspended my instinctive actions that I normally take for granted and don’t even think about. He told me to let everything go and not to fight it because he would control everything and give me my ultimate escape from all responsibility. That’s the level of his will he imposed on me. He took it all away from me, babe, and took me over. Every freedom, every independent thought……. Everything. Down to the base level. I was a tiny thing that he held in the palm of his strong hand as he toyed with me any way he chose, and I’m still overcome with my reactions to it all.


She’s already taking my breath away, but around three years in now, I’m good at displaying a calm exterior and not showing her I’m fazed by anything.


J: Do you regret letting your guard down with him to that extent?


S: I said I don’t regret anything, but…. Now, in the aftermath when I have to look you and the world in the eye. I do worry that you will think badly of me. I’d hate you to think badly of me, obviously. I worry that I can’t hold my head up and be all the things I normally am. You know? I can’t bring myself to regret it now that I’ve tasted it. I’ve tried to regret it, and I just can’t. Maybe I regret that I don’t regret it when I’m squirming inside over what happened, but that’s about the height of my remorse.


She’s speaking quickly, almost gabbling in her anxiety. Her big eyes are wide and a little watery as she turns and looks at me. They’re pleading for my understanding rather than judgment. She knows deep down she can rely on me for that and I’m always on her side no matter what. Always was, always will be. It’s non-negotiable.


J: Stay calm, love. You certainly didn’t regret it as it was happening from the sound of it.


S: Noooo. Not at the time. I didn’t regret it then. And again, I don’t regret it at all if you mean am I sorry I did it. No, I’m not, but it’s the enormity of thinking that everything he says about me is true. I am actually considering that as a person I really am more submissive than assertive, and it’s a lot to take in. It’s not how I see myself.


J: It seems like you are both to me. And I think it’s beautiful. Just like everything about you.


S: You’re being too kind to me.


Often when we discuss her capers with Geoff, we soon have each other naked and in playful mood as you might imagine, particularly as time has gone on and it’s become “normal”, whatever normal is between lovers behind closed doors. It’s fun time for us both, but today it’s playing out very differently. There’s this weighty, laden atmosphere between us, so I don’t make any moves. I just let her relax against me, wrapped in her dressing gown with the cords tied tightly around her, hoping she feels safe there, and that she will confide in me as the spirit moves her to.


J: Are you really ok, Sher? You know I always worry about you. Was it a normal swim session beforehand?


S: Yes. In fact it was more normal than usual, if that makes sense. Laid back almost. He wasn’t barking orders at me. Picking on some of the others for a change. Maybe he was lulling me into a sense of false security because when we got back to his there was a very different mood right from the start.


J: You must try to relate it to me. Give me a taste.


To my surprise, she plows straight in without further hesitation. I was expecting to have to lever every tiny detail out of her, but I guess she must be thinking that if I’m crazy enough to really want to hear this, getting it over with quickly might be the least challenging way to get herself off a tricky hook.


To reiterate to the reader, this is two decades ago and I’m relying on my memory to reconstruct it accurately while preserving some sense of the simmering vibe around us in the room that evening. Anyone who indulges heavily in this lifestyle, or something like it, will readily understand that we are both worked up and running on neat adrenaline. I am well aware that we are living through the most dangerously compelling time of our lives up to that moment, and all brought upon ourselves by our pushing the envelope of some very powerful sexual urges in both of us. The knowledge that we deliberately volunteered for this makes it wilder still somehow. Some of the things she says are reproduced here verbatim because they have so prodigious an effect on me that I can still hear her small quavering voice in my head as she falteringly and fearfully whispers the words in my ear. Other moments, necessarily, are more blurred by the mists of time and are retold as best I am able from my memory, and from the numerous cosy nights over the intervening twenty years when we have got ourselves high just by reliving the craziness of this tumultuous time together. It’s the best I can manage at this distance:


S:(to me): By the time I got to his place he’d changed into loose black shorts and black tee shirt. A different look for him. I usually either see him in training tracksuits or naked. Never all in black either. It played into my sense of foreboding. As soon as I walked through the door he gave me another litre of water to drink. I had no idea why he was plying me with all of this water.


The blithe manner in which she says she usually sees him naked hits a chord with me for some reason. It’s hardly news, but now, at her words, it drives me nuts to think of it, so I get up to bring the wine she’s asked for while I stew over her opening gambit. Sometimes it can be just a sentence she utters that hits me hard between the eyes, and it’s not always the most extreme words that bring it all home. This strong aggressive guy. My lovely wife usually sees him naked. Holy shit! Then my mind can run off at a tangent working with the information. It follows that the strong aggressive guy usually sees my lovely wife naked too, and maybe he has her tied up naked and helpless, or gagged, or he has her kneeling at his feet naked as she sucks his fat cock. I return to sit with her, hand her the glass, put my arm around her shoulders once more. It’s already mighty hot in here. My head’s in the mincer, and we haven’t really started. She takes a sip of the wine and seems game to go on.


G(to S): Are you ready to learn some difficult truth about yourself, girl?

S(to G): Yes, Sir. I am.

G(to S): Go through the gym to the small room and kneel on the mats in there in the submit position. Meditate on the strength of your need to surrender to me. Make it grow.


S(to G): Should I undress, Sir?


G(to S): No, girl. I will be undressing you tonight.


S(to me): This was new. Ever since we started he’s never been interested in undressing me. I’ve always had to do it myself and present my body to him for his approval, or often his apathy or disapproval. So I’m there kneeling, knees slightly apart, hands behind my back, head bowed precisely as he prescribes. It felt strange to do it with clothes on. As ever, he left me like that for ages to contemplate my fate. Must have been 15-20 minutes before he appeared. I tried to focus to his command but the anticipation was killing me. Whatever I was thinking, you can bet I was soaking wet down below as he entered the room. Excited and scared out of my wits, you know?


G(to S): Stand up, girl.


S(to me): I stood before him, head still bowed, and he weighed me up and down as he approached. Didn’t speak again. He unbuttoned my blouse and slowly removed it, then unzipped my skirt, undid it at my waist. I wasn’t sure how much assistance I was allowed to give, but I had to wiggle a bit to help him get the waistband down over my hips. It was nothing like when you undress me in foreplay. It was very….. mechanical, I suppose, on his part, but it was outrageously intense for me. Probably because I was entering the unknown. He’s never so much as taken a single garment off me before, so with his distracted attitude to what he was doing it was like I was being undressed by someone who wasn’t fully there with me. Stupid thing to say, I know, but…….. I’m standing there in my plain, matronly white bra and knickers just as he ordered in the text. He walked behind me to undo my bra strap, and simply removed it from there. He didn’t reach round to maul the girls with his hands or anything, like you might expect from a man that wants your body, and then he came around the front and pulled my knickers down, just in one movement, one hand on each side and told me to step out of them. The whole process couldn’t have taken more than two minutes. Completely businesslike, as though he was performing some mundane task, but I found the stone cold way he got me naked red hot. Like a ritual sacrifice, you know? And all the time there’s this sixth sense telling me with certainty that he knows just what he’s doing to me. Don’t ask me why or how. He stood a couple of metres in front of me. Looked me up and down, and naturally I’m blushing that deep red like I do. It never stops being excruciating as he looks at my body in that disinterested way he has, and the long chipolata nipples are out in force for him, like the less keen he seems the bigger they get for him. I’m right at the edge of my sanity, but the tension keeps on building.


J: You’re finding it as exciting as ever then despite your heightened fear?


S(to me): Christ, yes. Then some. What do you think? Macho man just having his way with me, a hundred percent in charge of me as my insides curl up in humiliation. You know this is exactly what floats my flaky boat. It’s not rational, but it’s par for the course!


It’s doing exactly the same for me too. I’m routinely helpless as I listen to her. Excited, ashamed. All ability to reason totally gone from me. I’m just a hard prick and a mind jumping around on hot coals and filled full of her debauchery.


G(to S): Right. I see your arousal, girl, and I can smell it, sharp and pungent. Channel all of that excitement you are feeling into your submission to me. Push yourself to the limit. Hang that everyday person you think you are outside of here out on the line for me. I want you to kneel again now on those mats, but on all fours, head down, your butt high in the air, and your back arched. I’m going to cane you, girl. I’m going to cane the very last of that haughty high and mighty bitch out of you.


S(to me): When he told me he could smell my arousal I wanted to die of embarrassment all over again, and I’m sure I blushed even deeper. I knew he wasn’t kidding. I could smell myself too, but he just had to rub my nose in the awful truth. He spares me nothing when he has me like this.


G(to S): This isn’t regarded as a punishment caning, girl. It’s purely for discipline, for moulding your attitude. You can expect me to discipline you regularly now, and it wont be the same as when I punish you. During a punishment beating you will be restrained over the apparatus like before. But when you are taking the cane or the belt for routine discipline you will always be unrestrained here on the floor and you must keep absolutely still as part of the regime. If you don’t that will bring a punishment beating in addition when you will be restrained. Accomplishing full self-control in the face of pain and discomfort is crucial to the training of a submissive. It’s so that you mentally link your increasing self-control with your deeper descent into your sub space and you will come to need discipline at my hand as a confirmation of your status beneath me. I know that this is already a basic need in you, but you are only just tapping in to the extent of it, so we need to nurture it carefully and make it grow.


S(to me): While he was explaining or pontificating, I knelt down on the exercise mats into the position he’d said. I couldn’t hide from the cane, so I did the opposite. I stuck my bum outwards and upwards as much as I could to own it because I thought that was what he’d like me to do. As soon as he said he was caning me, I wanted it, you see. There’s this all embracing need to please him and get his approval. That’s a big part of this, but it always has been. By then he had the cane in his hand.


G(to S): You had a taste of this 2 weeks ago. I think you can endure a healthy 6 strokes now. Brace yourself for it.


S(to me): I didn’t reply. I remembered the agony last time he caned me but I tried to focus on the exhilaration I recalled feeling after it. I held tight, supported myself on clenched fists, closed my eyes, tucked my head under, chin on my chest to hide my face, I think, and let him get on with it. I reckon he gave it me with similar force to last time, but there were more strokes. I was determined not to cower away. My arse was burning raw again and then, totally out of control of my body, I orgasmed around the 4th blow. When it was over he came and rubbed the soothing cream on again too.


J: Fuck. Is it hard to endure? It sounds excruciating. And on top of that you come while he’s laying the cane into you?


S(to me): It is emotional. It builds with each stroke but like I’ve said before it’s challenging and it’s elating after I’ve taken it. I’ve met the challenge. I can’t explain. It probably sounds mad, but it certainly doesn’t put me off wanting to submit, or wanting more orgasms that way, because I’m pleasing him. I get off on pleasing my Master. It’s so different from anything else. I’m learning that it’s the whole package that does it for me; that arouses me so much. It would be wrong to say I love it, but……. It does something to me that goes very, very deep into my soul.


G(to S): Well done, girl. You are good at taking a sound beating stoically. No wailing from you, just a bit misty eyed to show me you’ve felt it and it’s had the desired effect in making you climax from the pain. Not everyone can attain that level. I want you always to associate that kind of sexual pleasure with your surrender from now on.


S(to G): Thank you, Sir. I will try to.


G(to S): That beating was to ready you for your ultimate submission to me, girl. I told you what it would involve. You’ve had the largest plug inserted in your anus today as you were instructed, I hope.


S(to G): Yes Sir. And just prior to swimming too. I think I’m ready, but I am a little afraid.


G(to S): Being in fear and awe of her Master is good for a properly submissive girl, so enjoy it, but I will protect you from lasting harm. You know that.


S(to G): Yes Sir. Thank you. I’m ready.


S(to me): I’m still in position from the caning. He hasn’t told me to move, so I daren’t. Next thing, he’s behind me again and he’s rubbing some kind of thick oily lubricant from a jar up and down my nick and all around my anus, then pushing it into and up the hole with his finger. Again it felt mechanical, like he’s got this mundane task of greasing a piece of machinery. No big deal to him, but I’m getting a bit crazed as he does it, I mean just having to acknowledge in my head that this guy is doing that to me so methodically and matter of fact, without even getting started on the physical sensation of him messing around behind me with his finger up my bum hole.


Fuck. As she describes what he’s done to her with the lube, I’m recalling the anal rape “butter” scene from Last Tango In Paris that I watched with some mates as a teenager. That it should evoke my adolescent memory is bringing home to me the extent of the consensual abuse she’s invited from him. I don’t interrupt her flow. Actually, I can’t speak.


S(to me): He has my bare genitals right there, overexcited and vulnerable at his disposal too if he has a mind to take advantage, and there’s not a thing I could or would do to stop him, but he never even laid a finger on me there, like he had no interest in me or attraction to me at all as a sexually aroused woman. A man who can resist me like that has earned my grudging respect straightaway. It’s like he’s already done all that to me. It’s in the bag, and now he’s on a mission to conquer me in other ways too. The biggest brainstorm is that he’s doing it all like it’s his divine right, like he owns me, you know? And that’s the mind he wants me in. He’s so bloody clever at it, and it’s exactly the mind I love to be in during these sessions. You know it is; you know how odd I am. Like a kid in a sweetshop, concentrating on what’s happening to me to the exclusion of everything. Anyway, next he hands me a squeezy bottle between my legs. It’s a contraption attached to a pipe with a nozzle at the other end. He fiddles around with it behind me, finally manages to insert the nozzle into my rear end and it feels soooo weird as he pushes it right up there.


G(to S): That’s all set for you, girl. Up on your knees in submit pose and squeeze the bulb flat between your hands. That’s it. Get all of the contents out of the bulb so it all goes into your rectum to soften and wash out everything that’s in there.


S(to me): So at his word, I squeezed the bottle steadily until it was squashed flat in my hands, and I could feel the liquid flowing into me as I did it. Sort of tingly sensation. When it was all in, he pulled the nozzle out, and told me to lie on my left side quietly and rest. Funny thing was, he said ‘It’s out now.’ and I’m thinking ‘Er, yeah, I’d gathered that. I can tell the difference when something is shoved up my arse from when it’s not, you silly bugger.’, but I didn’t dare say anything out loud.


J: His reaction would have been sweet if you had said it.


S(to me): Er, no it wouldn’t! That wasn’t my submissive mindset he was aiming for. Obviously, my rebellious streak had gone off message. But only for that instant.


J: How did that feel as you squirted it up yourself? Fuck. I can’t imagine it.


S(to me): So, so weird. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and once it was in it was like a queasy feeling, hard to describe and with an odd, mild pins and needles all around my stomach, even at the front like it was outside on the skin too. It felt all cool and floppy inside as well, but all under pressure.


J: Were you still afraid?


S(to me): I guess. A bit. I think I was more intrigued than anything by now, but as time went on I did start to feel more and more nauseous. I’m not accustomed to it goes without saying. My rectum isn’t used to having a pint of liquid forced into it and when it’s in there, it’s a weight pulling downward all the time, and my stomach is swollen. Meanwhile, he was asking me if my bowel movements are usually soft and easy to pass. Christ almighty. I’m meekly answering all of these outrageously intimate questions and feeding in to this divine right he’s awarded himself over me. But, you know, I’m so happy I found someone so adept at bringing out something buried so deep within me that needed to come out. I feel euphorically safe as he deconstructs me, somehow. Does that make any kind of sense? I know it doesn’t because it’s a contradiction in terms. I’ve always been fascinated by paradoxes in science, but I never knew there could be one so close to home and so uncomfortable within me. I’m so sorry, John!


G(to S): Keep that sphincter tight so that it doesn’t seep out under the pressure.


S(to G): It feels very odd Sir.


G(to S): After the first few times it will become second nature and you’ll look forward to it. It’s an intensely erotic experience for a sub with the right dom in charge. You need to hold it for about 15 minutes for it to be fully effective.


S(to me): I’ve never been so avid at clockwatching. The pressure’s really building inside me. I can feel it all glooping and bubbling around. It’s definitely working, and I know that I can’t let anything escape or I’ll be mortified AND in big trouble. He just keeps telling me to ‘keep calm, girl’, and ‘hold tight’ and it’s becoming ever more difficult and worrying. I started off by lying in the foetal position, probably for mental comfort to help me cope, but I found I couldn’t hold the pressure so well like that, and he said stretching my legs out straighter with one over the other would make it more bearable, so I did that. Not sure it was any more bearable though! I’m twitching, jerking all over as I try to focus on holding it. The toilet in the room’s only about 12 feet away and I’d give anything to shut myself in there, but it may as well be in another country because he’s bidden me to stay still. I’m just staring at that clock on the wall, willing the seconds finger to complete another circle, and then another. Wishing minutes of my life away, praying that he lets me escape to the toilet. It got to just over 13 minutes and it’s all in spasm. I’m groaning; beyond desperate.


S(to G): Please can I go now, Sir? It’s starting to cramp up badly, and it’s becoming impossible to hold on, and I’m afraid of………


G(to S): Alright, girl. You’ve done well for a first timer. You may go.


S(to me): I stood up slowly, but I didn’t dare to run because my hold on it was on the verge of capitulating. The muscles in my legs were cramping badly as I staggered across the floor, and I don’t know why. I moved very cagily holding my sore tummy, and trying to discipline my sphincter to hold on that bit longer. I knew that attempting a mad dash would be a mistake. He just watched as I passed him. I got there - just - and by the time I sat and released into the bowl I was panting for breath. I’m going to gloss over the awful stink that was a mixture of the usual and something almost like a medicated industrial disinfectant. I flushed it all away as soon as I could, and I was hoping that either the fog would soon clear or he wouldn’t go in there for a while. I’m vividly aware my thinking that way is all part of him dominating me beyond my accustomed limits. Taking away my dignity, as he puts it. Well he sure did that already, and when I thought about it later I realised that this is exactly what he’s promised me. Anyhow, you would appreciate that the decompression of my lower reaches was one massive relief, a new euphoria fell over me. I cleaned myself up quickly and headed out to face the music again, tits free, swaying and bouncing as I walked. I felt so good that I’d survived an enema for the first time, and I’m at the stage where my nipples are so expanded I think they might explode. He can see that this treatment is exciting me as readily as if I had an arousal indicator light on the end of my nose. I’m blushing too. I just can’t hide it, but cohabiting with the excitement is an acute mortification because I’m showing him he’s arousing me by doing this. But then I’m ‘getting my shame out’, aren’t I? This is what he wants from me, so I want to do it. I can glory in this feeling and not give a fuck about anything.


G(to S): This is good for you, isn’t it, girl? You must be honest, now. You can’t hide that level of excitement.


S(to G): Yes, Sir. I am excited. I have to confess.


G(to S): Good. Confession is good for the soul. We all have to confess. I will be in church next week to confess to all of this.


S(to me): He has religion in a big way of course. It’s one thing about him that’s fucking hilarious in view of what he’s doing with me, but I bite my lip about it. He says the priest always wants to know what’s happened in vivid detail before he’ll give absolution. I think he makes notes to take with him.


J: I bet he fucking does. Dirty old bastard priest. It’s no doubt the highlight of his week. He’s probably wanking in the confessional as Geoff leaves.


She laughs a little. It’s a rare lighter moment.


S(to me): What? Like you after I’ve given you the details, you mean? Well, I certainly don’t need to make notes!


J: Nor me! He’s right that you can’t conceal your excitement though. I’ve told you often enough. You never could hide your arousal from a guy. A lot of the time you don’t even realise the signals you give off, but men do. I do, and I see it in other men.


S(to me): I know now that’s true, but there are so many emotions cascading into my senses when that happens to me that I can only let it all wash over me, and I think it’s that cyclone of feelings that does it for me somehow. Brings out the goosebumps, the ridiculous Damien nipples, the dilated pupils….. I think. Oh, I don’t know what I think, really. Worse still, often I don’t care what I think as long as I keep feeling that way.


G(to S): Go and bend over along the horse ready to be restrained.


S(to me): So on top of the caning and the enema, I’m thinking I’m going to be punished but I don’t know why. I just got into the position I was told to, and soon enough he’s standing behind me. Looking. I can feel his eyes boring into me, and he bends down to look closer. You’ve heard of the sense of being stared at? That’s what I was getting.


G(to S): You remember at the start when I told you your cunt looked like a teenage virgin’s?


S(to G): Yes, Sir. I remember.


S(to me): How could I forget?


J: And how could I?!!


G(to S): And I promised you I’d soon have it looking like an old whore’s?


S(to G): Yes, Sir.


G(to S): Well, I think it’s looking like we’re close to mission accomplished.


S(to me): That upset me a bit because it’s not true. I’ve taken care of my little narrow slit through these three years and pampered it to keep it looking good for you, and for him too. It does still look the same doesn’t it?


J: It looks perfect to me, sweets.


S(to me): It’s just that these two weeks since this new thing started I’m so hyper for so much of the time. You know how I’ve been swollen down there whenever my mind is on it. It’s just the level of crazy that’s in play. It’s a mental more than a physical change.


J: You mean you had an attack of the cream horn cunt and he got an eyeful of your womb?


S(to me): You could say. But I just had to go along with his proud boast however unjustified. Never any choice. I know how to please my Master. Well, some of the time I think I do.


S(to G): Yes Sir. And I have enjoyed the process like you said I would.


G(to S): Very good, girl. Very good. I’m pleased with you. You’re a very smart young submissive.


S(to me): And, of course, unfair or not, I glowed in the warmth of the praise anyway, and he hadn’t bound me to the horse after all. What came next was much more demeaning than being bound though.


G(to S): I’m going to administer another enema to you now. Call it a final rinse, but it’s more an act of domination over you. Another ritual of humiliation on the way to your unconditional surrender to me. Other than when you are following my precise commands, I want you to just remain completely still and docile as I do this to you and concentrate on the meaning behind what’s happening to you. I will guide the whole process this time. For your next challenge, I want you to reach behind you now with both hands, one on each buttock, and spread the cheeks of your bottom as far apart as you can for me. Do it as though you are trying to tear your body apart for me, and your bottom cleft is the perforation. Make your anus open up to me if you can. Really put all of your effort into it if you want to please me, and focus on what’s left of your dignity ebbing away.


S(to me): So I’m there doing it to the best of my ability and I’m really straining but he’s in no hurry. He’s enjoying the spectacle of me disgracing myself to new levels for him. He’s known for a long time that he can get me to do anything, and it’s like he wants to prove it to underline to me just how far I will go.


Her words trail off as she seems to be contemplating the stark reality that he really can make her do anything.


J: That’s for certain he can make you do anything. Submissive streak or not, I’d never have imagined any man could take you to these extremes.


S(to me): Are you disappointed in me or is this still hot for you?


She seems genuinely curious. My scientist forever. She can always surprise me even at the most momentous of times.


J: How can I sit here this excited and say I’m disappointed in you? You know me and my tendencies. I love you more than life itself, so help me. What you’re telling me is overwhelming for good and for bad. And of course it’s fucking hot. It’s demented and it’s hot. Demented hot!


G(to S): This will be another standard command for you just like the kneeling submit position. Whenever I tell you to spread them, this is what I want you to show me. It might be a command given while you’re here or it might be a text message when you’re not, but when you receive this instruction you must come here and obey at the earliest possible moment. There is also submit and spread which will be both positions at the same time head bowed, rump open wide, kneeling on the floor.


J: That’ll be interesting if you’re giving a lecture to a hall full of students. What does he expect you to do? Walk out of the venue and go round to his straightaway to display your stretched out arse hole to him?


S(to me): Well that won’t happen, but I imagine I’ll have to get there as soon as I can and take the punishment for being late!


J: Christ. He really has you where he wants you.


S(to me): Yeah. He does, I suppose….


Then she pauses and ponders further:


S(to me): But not without him also having me where I want me too. We’re both getting a bang out of this or I just wouldn’t, would I? And so are you by the way, or you wouldn’t be sitting here listening, and no doubt nursing an extreme hard on, would you?


J: I’m not going to deny. I’ve confessed to high excitement.


S(to me): I’m still in my spread stance, he has the lube again, and he’s soon repeating the performance of rubbing it up and down my crack, then his finger is pushing the stuff in and soon it’s right up my bottom. It felt like the finger went all the way in this time. I assumed he must be ok to do that now after the first enema cleared me out. Then he withdrew it and the nozzle was going in again but he kept hold of the bulb, and he squeezed the stuff into me himself this time, taking over. That pressure again as it filled my rectum, the tingles, the crampy swelling at the bottom of my tummy. I had to crane my neck from my position on the vaulting horse to see the clock, but he wasn’t happy about that.


G(to S): Eyes forward. You don’t need to know the time! Time doesn’t exist as far as you’re concerned when you submit. I’m driving everything.


S(to me): And he whacked my bum with his hand to discourage me. I averted my eyes forward pretty quick and just lay there with this stuff griping hard in my guts again. It was a slightly different feel this time. Different position with my weight on it face down on the horse. Not sure if it was better or worse, but I surprised myself by being able to calm myself right down, slow my racing heartbeat and simply let it happen to me. Let it flow over me and send my mind to a peaceful place that’s beyond my control. I suppose that’s the docility he demanded from me at the beginning, and I found it’s a good place to be. Surprisingly a very good mind mood like I could hear sweet music in my head.


G(to S): Ten minutes. Are you feeling the pressure?


S(to G): Yes Sir. It’s getting stronger all the time. It’s really tough now…..


G(to S): Alright then. That’s enough. Come on.


S(to me): He held a hand out to me and helped me down off the horse. Then he actually put his arm around my waist gently, and half walked and half carried me to the toilet as I leaned on him. I could just about put one foot in front of the other very slowly by then with the painful cramping really heavy in my guts and the thigh muscle spasms too, so I needed his strength to support me as I tottered along in case my legs gave way. I couldn’t believe how weak I felt, John. If you’d seen how I was, you’d never guess that I’m a fit long distance runner. I was more like a feeble old woman, but I knew he was holding me up with his strong arm, so I was ok. I wasn’t worried I was going to die or anything. I was just holding my poor abused tummy again as I moved. Don’t know if it was all a mental or physical effect. Could’ve been a combination, I suppose. He pushed me through the door ahead of him and then followed me in which threw me a bit.


G(to S): Sit on the seat but the opposite way to normal, facing the cistern. As far forward as you can so that I can see.


S(to me): He held my hand, lowered me onto the seat and then knelt behind me, crouching down. He gives me permission to release my bowels and he watches me do it, still holding my hand.


G(to S): Good girl. Force it all out. It’s mostly nice and clean now. Just a little discoloured. I’m here to watch you.


S(to me): It’s like I’m in a parallel universe where all the normal rules of etiquette and civilised behaviour don’t apply. A man is holding my hand while I’m sitting on the toilet performing. At the same time he’s softly manipulating my coccyx with the fingers of his other hand while he watches the whole process from behind me, and he’s giving me a running commentary on everything he sees. Completely mind blowing in a way you couldn’t possibly understand unless it happened to you. But then as one pressure releases I have this uncontrollable urge to pee as well.


S(to G): Oh God. I need to wee now, Sir.


G(to S): Don’t worry, girl. Just let it all go. Let me see you do it. Let all of your shame out for me. You want this badly. You want to show me all of your secrets and get my blessing. I know you do. It’s all fine now. It’s the most natural thing in the world for a submissive to want.


I half open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I think I’m finally lost for words. It’s probably long overdue, but at last she has me literally dumbstruck. She waits for an instant, then carries on:


S(to me): It was a good thing he told me to go ahead because the stream of urine was already flowing freely. All of those litres he made me drink were telling on me, so now he’s observing me as I pee too, and the perverse knowledge that he’s watching is exquisitely daunting. Where the feeling comes from I have no idea, but I have this visceral need inside me to show him everything, just like he’s said I have, and just because he’s told me to, even as I shrivel up with shame. The very idea is giving me those goosebumps all over my body, and he’s still meddling with my coccyx. I was almost orgasmic again from the procession of events crowding my brain. Even you’ve never done any of this stuff with me, and I thought that at the time. It only made the scene of him there with me in the toilet holding my hand seem edgier still. The fact that only he can make me do this stuff, and I shouldn’t let it happen but I am anyway and revelling in it, has me in this twisted state of ecstasy.


J: I don’t think you’d want me to do any of that, would you?


Her answer is quite pointed but puzzling too, and not a little profound.


S(to me): Certainly not! This stuff is restricted! Only for my Master. I’d never want to be humiliated like this by you, babe.


She shudders visibly at the thought.


S(to me): We’d never be the same again, would we? I could never look upon us as equals again, and it would break my heart. It’s hard enough to share it with you now after the event. Part of me doesn’t like you knowing these secret things about me at all, but I feel the duty to you to tell you. This was our deal that I will never break. I’m having this wild and wonderful experience, and I have to give you something from it, don’t I? It hurts me, shames me, but I have to do it for you, and then it gets me hot all over again reliving it with you.


Although she dresses it up with the kindest words, it is one of those seminal moments in life. Out of her own mouth my dear love tells me that needs and desires lurk deep within her that I can’t ever quell for her. Well. It shouldn’t come as a surprise after all we’ve been through. Then she makes the telling of her adventures to me sound akin to some sort of mercy fuck. That angle hasn’t occurred to me before, but she did at least say that only “part” of her felt that way. She seems to sense my discomfort with the notion, and she presses her body into me; reaches out and caresses my free hand in my lap. She can’t unsay the words, but she tries to make it better.


S(to me): I couldn’t ever do what I do for him with you, sweetheart. We are much too special for that. I try to tell myself that you think of this shameless woman as that slut actress just like I do. I like you to think she’s nothing to do with your shy little Sherrie. I know you don’t look at it that way though. I know you have your own perversions you project onto mine….. Your own demons to deal with. What a weird pair we are.


She’s right, of course. Her slut actress self-deception doesn’t apply to me. On the contrary, I’m obsessed with my love and soul mate going to these extremes wholeheartedly for herself because she wants to. My outwardly wholesome girl indulging her own personal depravity that’s an integral part of her. That’s what deliciously excites and cruelly tortures me. I couldn’t face her doing it without me in the loop even if “part” of her would prefer to keep it from me. No, no, no. If she tried to do so there would be an awful breach between us.


S(to me): You wouldn’t want to do the things he does to me anyway, would you?


I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t, but I duck the question. I don’t know why. Possibly I’m fearful of the notion that I’m incapable of it and I don’t want to appear weak to her.


J: Sher. I don’t believe it could ever work. You’ve found a Master in more ways than one from what you say.


She twists around in the seat a little, and her big eyes are pleading with me again. She doesn’t contradict me though, and I’m not sure how I can help either of us by saying something clever. So I shut up and leave the stage clear once more.


S(to me): I’m sorry, John. It’s tough to hear you say that, but it wouldn’t be us anyway, would it? What I feel isn’t love for my Master, I promise you again. This is something separate. Something…… beyond reason. We’re both just being honest about it aren’t we? About how it excites you and me.


She settles back again. Picks up her glass which will soon need a recharge. Takes a sip. Carries on:


G(to S): Have you done?


S(to G): I think so, Sir.


G(to S): Lean further forward. Rest your chest on the cistern box.


S(to me): Next thing I know, he’s ripping a length of toilet paper off the roll and he’s wiping my bottom, like I’m totally helpless and unable to do it myself. There’s only really been the enema fluid of course by now. He’s very good with his feminine hygiene though. He wiped my anus only backwards away from my vagina. I was moronically impressed! Then he got another piece of tissue and started dabbing at the urine remains between the lips from behind. So excruciating for me, and I’m thinking no way is he going to get it dry in there even if he uses a whole roll! I have some really wacky thoughts on impulse when he’s topping me.


J: Well he definitely won’t dry it while you’ve got cream horn cunt for him.


S(to me): He told me to get up and he moved me to the wash basin and washed my whole crack and my lips really roughly with soap and water then towelled me dry until it was all hot and tingly. I was well and truly shell-shocked at everything that had happened. Nobody has wiped, washed and dried my nether regions except me since I was a toddler, surely.


J: Fuck. How did having him do that make you feel?


S: Humiliated but nice. Warm. Cocooned. Even…. Protected. Work that out! Can’t begin to explain, but yeah, really invigorating moment during the storm. Being thoroughly controlled by my Master is quite the revelation. It’s really heaven. Who’d have guessed? Not me!


J: Oh Sher. My sweetheart. I never thought it could come to this with us. Or anything like it.


S(to me): I’m sorry, John. I never thought it could either. That first night he took me here in this room, the sex blew me away but no, I couldn’t imagine where I’ve got to now even in my wildest fantasies. How could I? I didn’t know half of this stuff existed, and I don’t know where it ends. Are you sorry you encouraged me, sweetheart? I’m not, but are you?


If eyes can be silently plaintive, that’s how she’s looking up at me now. They’re pleading for understanding from me, her head on my arm.


J: I don’t know. There’s a bit of me that hates me for it; for what you’re going through. I can see it’s an ordeal despite your craving it and even loving it in some ways. I think you know that much without me saying. If I hadn’t encouraged you…


S(to me): Well, I do like that you are as unsure about it as I sometimes am. Because there’s a little bit of me too that hates both of us for allowing my surrender to him to slide so far. I’m glad you’re not wholehearted about it because I need you to care enough to be concerned but not enough to want to stop me. I have to hold on to our oneness at all costs, and I think those regrets we both have speaks to our loving vibe in a very big way, don’t you? We have to protect us. It mustn’t ever damage us, and we won’t let it.


J: Goes without saying. Absolutely. And there’s no way I could be wholehearted about this. I’m sure the mixed feelings I have are similar to those you describe, but in the end it’s you that has yourself out there on the line with this man. It’s beyond my imagination how that must feel.


S(to me): So we’re back in the room. He goes to dim the lights, again unusual, and he’s ordering me to kneel on the mats again.


G(to S): Down there. Submit and spread for me. Now.



S(to me): This is the first time I have to combine these rituals into one position. My guts have stopped griping, thank goodness, and my strength seems to be returning, so I knelt down on the gym mats and then I have to decide how far forward I can lean to bow my submission and still get my hands behind me to spread my bum without falling forward. After a few false starts I found a compromise position - thank God for yoga - and he’s kneeling behind me again plastering me with a third helping of the lubes all around my crack and up my hole. It would be just my imagination but it felt like he’d loosened me up a fair bit by then.


G(to S): Stay absolutely still now. That’s a good posture for starting.


S(to me): It’s cold at first contact, but it soon warms up. I’m getting quite used to the feel of the stuff by now. Amazing what you can get used to! And his attention there isn’t unpleasant either, but I know it isn’t a slim nozzle going up after his finger comes out this time. He’s got something much thicker lined up for me.


I’m listening, quite spellbound. I suppose there are details I’d like to pursue with her at a tangent, but I’m too fascinated and brimming with ball-busting excitement to divert her flow again. I know I’m leaking precum just hearing her words.


S(to me): When he’s finally satisfied he comes to lie alongside me as I kneel in my submit and spread. It’s like I’m holding a position in yoga, but I don’t think I’ll demonstrate this one at the yoga group!


J: It could catch on!


S(to me): He’s fumbling with his loose shorts, pulling them up, and then he lobs his semi-erect snake out of the leg and just lets it lie on his thigh.


G(to S): Get up, and then take the submit kneeling position but straddling me.


S(to me): It seemed very strange because normally he is sitting or standing above me and I have to look up at him first and then bow my head slowly to him in submission, but I have to do as I’m told without question, and obviously I’ve got the gist of what’s going to happen. As I straddled his hips and brought my pelvis down to his, he was covering his cock in the same gloopy lube stuff from the jar. He was fully erect by then. A bit too fully, by the look of it, and he just holds it pointing upward towards my arse, and he’s giving me his superior look.


G(to S): This is the moment, you lucky girl. This is the moment you have been waiting for with all of your awful smelly fish wet hole anticipation. This is when you get to completely surrender yourself to my total dominion. For this first time, because you aren’t used to this, I will allow you to control the pace as you take me in to possess your most forbidden place. I want you to lower your back hole slowly onto me, Go slowly as I penetrate you and fill that space for you. Yes, that’s the way.


S(to me): It took a bit more adjustment to get the angle. Not as easy as vaginal insertion in this position. I felt the head touching the spot and then slowly breaking through the margin at first, but because we were both lubed up to the max, it was really not as bad as I’d feared, so I kept lowering myself as it stretched my sphincter wider and wider. I wanted this to be perfect so he had nothing to scold me about.


G(to S): That’s good, girl. You are doing well.


S(to me): Naturally, it was so tight and it started hurting. Tighter than anything I’ve ever known, but good and slippery too. I lowered myself to a point where it felt like the stretch was at maximum; like the head wasn’t forcing the orifice outwards any further and not getting more sore or being unbearable. Then for some reason, I can’t say why, it felt absolutely right. Oh, babe. It felt perfect, physically, mentally. My dark masochistic tendencies, I guess. Like it was meant to be somehow, so suddenly I’m more confident and I slid down on it a little faster, anxious to take it all. I was truly overcome by what was happening to me, and I wanted him to know how much I was affected.


S(to G): Thank you Master. I feel it now. I feel your power overcoming my weakness. I want it all inside me filling me up.


S(to me): Because he’d made such a big thing out of this act, relating it to his power over me, I’d planned the words I would say all along, and that I would try to be a bit theatrical, play up to it, and call him Master as he took me there. I’d thought it would please him, and when I’m with him that’s all I want to do. In the event it seemed the most natural thing in the world. I was genuinely feeling it, so there was no acting required. Right then he really was my Master, and speaking the word, addressing him that way as he humbled me gave me an electric charge, so I moved down some more until I knew I had him all in. Have you ever felt like your one purpose in life is to do as another person tells you and strive for their approval? I hadn’t, but I have now. I truly saw the light.


G(to S): Just be still, girl. Hold yourself in this most humiliating of all positions and meditate on your total surrender to me. You now have the great gift of your Master inside your body, filling your empty space, and his energy is flowing through your mind. I can tell that you really understand the scale of this. Don’t minimise the moment. Your Master will guide and control you from this point forward.


S(to G): Thank you, Master. I really do understand it. Please guide me. This feels wonderful.


S(to me): I wasn’t lying, I was high and completely into the mindset. I’d have said anything in that instant. Agreed to anything at all. Run naked down the high street for him if he told me to. I loved the thrill, John. So much I can’t describe. I felt abandoned to his energy and my helplessness. Whatever doubts I might have had before, I know now that this is masochism strong and undiluted. In some ways I’ve fought the truth that’s been staring me in the face for a long time, but I’ve learned that this really is me as much as anything else is.


G(toS): Just be silent and enjoy your surrender. I want you to sink yourself further than the level of submitted consciousness you have reached right now. Strive to go deeper. Hold tight to this feeling of falling into submission and never let up on it. Embrace it for all you are worth.


S(to G): Yes I am. I will.


S(to me): That brought a stinging slap to my right breast that shocked me from my complacency that the difficult parts were over. I’d thought I was pleasing him.


G(to S): Yes I am, what?!!


S(to G): Yes I am, Master!


S(to me): That brought a matching stinging slap to my left breast.


G(to S): The first one was for not addressing me properly. The second was for disobedience. I told you to be silent and enjoy your surrender. You must listen carefully, then obey instantly and absolutely at all times or else.


S(to me): I decided not to answer in case it brought me a third slap, and I was out of tits so it could have landed anywhere. We stayed in that position in silence, my head bowed and him tight up my backside for a long, long time. I couldn’t track the time, didn’t care, but I was only a fraction sub-orgasmic through the whole experience. Right on the edge. I closed my eyes and let the feeling consume me because it was much stronger then me. I think I was in an altered semi-hallucinatory state. Then his voice brought me back:


G(to S): Stay in the position, and masturbate for me.


S(to me): I gathered my wits and put my hand down between the lips. I was soaking wet as you’d expect, and I knew it was leaking from my passage onto his pubic hair. My vagina was feeling very neglected by him. I started touching my button. Soon I was writhing around with him still up my arse. I was getting there within a few seconds. I’d been that close through the whole ordeal.

G(to S): Keep on. Take yourself over the top, girl. Go on. Perform for me. Put on a show for your Master.


S(to me): As I came, my whole body went into an acute spasm and I thought I might lose him from my bottom with all my bucking around. I restrained my movement just in time.


G(to S): Good girl. I want you to associate extreme sexual pleasure directly to your utter submission to me from now on, so that you always need both together.


S(to G): I’m sure I do, Master. It’s been that way for a while now.


G(to S): Lift your weight off me just slightly. Give me room to move beneath you.


S(to me): As I rose up a little on my knees, he moved up with me and then he was arse fucking me with long strokes from below. When he decided I’d moved up far enough, he grabbed my hips and just held me still as he got on with it and turned up the power and speed. It felt hot, as if there was some dry friction even with all the lubrication as he pounded me. All his usual strength but obviously different this time. As soon as he started to piston me with that kind of momentum I was coming again. He never let up for what seemed like for ever, and I could see in his face and feel from his movements that he was very near. I tried to clench the sphincter for him. I’m not sure if he felt it because I was so stretched out around that shaft anyway, but I knew when he had started to come, and he emptied himself into me up there for the first time. Then we relaxed back into the same position with him lying beneath me. We got our breath back, and he sat up and embraced me as I still knelt over him with my bottom impaled on his cock. Then he astonished me. He kissed me. Told me I’d been a revelation as a submissive. I responded in shock as much as anything, and we traded tongues for a while with him biting mine and my lips. I felt so small and weak in his arms, but protected somehow in this very special BDSM way that I think only BDSM couples can know. Him, so big and powerful, possessing me cruelly but somehow benignly; me so small and weak, just accepting his will, is how it feels. It’s a delicious thing.


I feel very much excluded by her last sentences, but there isn’t much I can say. I’ve cheered her on to do it all and asked her for total honesty. Now she’s delivered. I’ve bought shares in this and here is the dividend, like it or not.


G(to S): You must keep up the development though, girl, if you want to reach your ultimate goals from this. You must yield to my control in all things. In your submission you will regularly give up all of your dignity to me as you have tonight. In your training you will strive for the highest standards of performance to please me. You will continue to improve your body, your diet, you will become physically stronger, you will run faster and farther. If you fall short on any of it you will be punished more severely than before. You are so much better, and will be better still, all because you put yourself in my hands. You will be the epitome of womanhood. Is that what you want, girl?


S(to G): Please, Master. That is what I want so much. I want to please you by being better and constantly improving in every way. I want you to take me to this place again and again.


G(to S): It isn’t just this place, girl. This is only the start. It isn’t a place but a journey. Your descent goes much deeper than this. The destination is limited only by the capacity of your own mind to focus and let everything else go.


I immediately realise he’s said something there that will push her buttons because the capacity of her mind is colossal, and she’s always wanting to expand it further.


J: That was a bit profound for Mr Neanderthal wasn’t it?


S(to me): Yeah…… Scary fascinating shit, eh? Sure did it for me! And revealed depths in him too that I didn’t know he had.


S(to G): I want to seek that destination in my mind for you, Master. More than anything right now.


G(to S): Good girl. I am very proud of you.


S(to me): We resumed the kiss. I just kind of melted into his hard muscles as I held him tight. Like the world stopped for us.


J: Fuck Sher. You genuinely feel that ambition to be better and go deeper specifically for him rather than for yourself?


S(to me): Yeah…. Well, both I suppose, but…. I mean. That’s what a submissive wants to do for a dom, and in that headspace it’s a real driving force when you’ve bought into another person doing this with you; to you. When you’re on such an intimate road with a partner driving you, that’s the destination, I think.


J: You say he kissed you? It sounds like it’s changing, like a love thing. You need to know I’m kind of losing the excitement when you go there.


Any mention of this sort of connection between them always raises my angst levels, and even more so after her relating the high level of control he’s taken over her and her desire for more.


S(to me): It was an intense thing, but he’s kissed me plenty of times before. It’s always more aggressive than tender. I think he was so pleased with how I’d coped with all of the enhanced level submission things. The enemas, the anal, and so he wanted to reward me, and he hadn’t finished. He took something from his pocket in a canvas bag and gave it to me. I pulled out this long gold chain.


G(to S): It’s a belly chain with a submissive’s loyalty pendant. Let me put it on you.


S(to me): So he reached it round me, fastened it so that it sat on the swell of my hips and then he pulled it around so that the clasp is at the back and the pendant at the front.


G(to S): I want you to wear it whenever we are together and at other times whenever you can. I realise you are a married woman so you can’t all of the time, but do so as much as possible to remind you of your place and your status beneath your Master. If you were single I would put a chastity device on you, but this is the next best thing mentally.


S(to G): Of course I will wear it whenever I can. Thank you Master.


S(to me): It seemed so provocative that he put the chain around me with his cock still right up inside me. Like he was laying claiming my loyalty right there as he possessed me. God, I nearly came again at the thought! He gave me another thrust up my rear in case I’d forgotten. I hadn’t forgotten.


J: Shit. Now he’s giving you jewellery as well as ruling you!


She gets off the sofa, stands and gives me a mild version of her shit eating grin. I think it’s the relief of telling me the story and finally having it all off her chest. An ordeal is over for her and she’s getting her audacious spirit back. She’s untying her dressing gown, lets it fall open and off her shoulders, and she’s a vision before my eyes in just a pair of white knickers and the belly chain she’s described. Well, she also has on the entwined hearts that I bought her years ago, but she always wears those. Geoff’s new addition has a thicker chain and, it strikes me, is located much nearer to her sex than my token. I guess that’s another one of those headfucks I inflict on myself over her adventures.


J: Let me have a closer look.


I stand up too and examine the clasp and the pendant. It’s a tiny gold padlock and key.


J: This is gold. It’s hallmarked. It’s dense too, quite thick. There’s a few quid’s worth here. What’s he playing at buying you stuff like this?


I’m suspicious. She looks bemused; thrown off balance.


S(to me): I don’t know, babe. I really hadn’t thought of it that way, like it’s a gift to me. I saw it more as a symbol of his domination of me. I don’t think of it like my property.


J: Well he gave it to you, didn’t he?


S(to me): Yeah, but….. I guess when this is all over he’ll want it back for his next conquest.


J: Hmmmm. Are you sure he’s planning anything beyond his current conquest?


S(to me): It’s not like that! I’ve told you so many times. It’s just an intense thing but it isn’t like that. It’s just not. All the things we’ve talked about before still apply. The age difference, no interests in common other than this and sport. We’re completely different and incompatible personalities. Believe me! Just get the idea of it being a love thing either for me or him right out of your head. Whatever it is, yeah, it’s massive, but it isn’t that! I don’t fancy him in a “live with him forever” kind of way.


She’s keen to get off the subject of him having designs on her. She thinks it’s too ridiculous to waste brain space on, and she’s sitting down again with the dressing gown wrapped around her.


G(to S): You can’t let anyone else up there now including your husband. Do you understand?


S(to G): I understand, Master. That space is reserved only for you now.


S(to me): Finally the ceremony was over. That’s how it felt to me. Like some kind of ancient rites had taken place. He gave me permission and I got off him. My bum felt hollow after being cleared out twice and him being up there for so long, and then we showered in the units adjoining the gym. Separate showers – no fraternisation with submissives, apparently! It was late and he made us coffee. Just drinking the coffee, sitting in his kitchen, him in one of his usual tracksuits and me in a plain dress with nothing underneath. I naturally assumed we’d be going to bed for sex. Real proper sex this time! Christ, I needed it. Like I said, my pussy had been neglected the whole night. I felt I’d earned it too. Some normality after everything……… he’d done to me….


J: Fucking him? Normality??!! Fuck, Sher! Some of the shit you come out with.


She laughs but it’s a crazy kind of guffaw I’m not familiar with. I had thought she was getting her spirit back, but maybe she’s lurched to the opposite extreme. She seems hyper. A bit manic. I’m reminded of the way she went for Rob in the lab this afternoon. Shit. Is this stuff sending her nuts?


S(to me): Well, normal after everything that had gone down. And fucking him should seem normal after I’ve been at it for 3 years, shouldn’t it? Plenty of marriages don’t last that long!


She’s right to that extent, of course. Where did all that time go while I’ve been enjoying her enjoying her fat cocked, aggressive dom lover? It’s now shockingly routine between them. Then she’s reverting to last night again.


G(to S): I really am proud of you tonight. You submitted so gently. It couldn’t have been better. You can be very humble when you try. What a transformation. You need to do it more. It suits you. Try harder.


S(to G): Thank you, sir. I want to go to bed with you now. I need you to fuck me in the traditional way with lots of power.


G(to S): Careful! You’re letting your guard down already. You don’t ever demand from me, girl. “I want” doesn’t get! You accept what you are offered graciously at the time I choose. I won’t punish you for this slip because you have been so good during your initiation, but remember well. I won’t usually be so lenient. No sex. Tonight you are sleeping on the floor at the foot of my bed. It isn’t a punishment. It’s an interlude of grace that you can use to reflect on how far you’ve come tonight in your development.


S(to G): Thank you, Sir.


S(to me): So I never got fucked last night after all that. At least not vaginally. He gave me this old sleeping bag from a top cupboard and it smelt musty, but I couldn’t say anything. If there’s one thing that’s always uppermost in my mind it’s that this hotel doesn’t have a complaints department. I lay on the floor in that bloody smelly sleeping bag all night, and all of these thoughts of what had happened to me were going through my mind. All kinds of things. Wanting more of this outrageous stimulation I’ve discovered, wanting him to fuck me too but getting hot and wet at the same time because he’s refused me. I was thinking I’d have to bring myself off again, and I remember wondering how to do it without making a sound, but I must have dozed off to sleep in the end, exhausted.


J: Did you get any action this morning?


S(to me): Nope. All I got this morning was his command about me not eating from Friday lunch to Saturday evening. He did give me breakfast but that was to make sure I had energy for the training session. He certainly wasn’t interested in playing at sex with me. He likes me to want him and not give me any sometimes. I’ve known that pretty much from the beginning, so no change there. He keeps me guessing whether he’ll demand me, consume me or completely ignore me. That’s his trademark.


Her indignant expression indicates her displeasure.


J: But we know whatever he does, or doesn’t do, turns you on.


S: Yep. And he knows it too. I don’t really have a prayer with him, do I?


J: So you being shitty with Rob this afternoon was sexual frustration then? The very last thing I imagined!!


She smiles. I’m still not confident what’s going on in her head, but she’s been taken to extremes and we’re in uncharted waters.


S(to me): Ah. I never thought of that! Wasn’t like I didn’t get stimulated though, was it? And I was orgasmic for most of the time when I wasn’t sitting on the toilet! And even some of the time when I was!


I can see she’s starting to blush again at the thought of Geoff holding her hand while she performed on the toilet.


J: And how was the gym this morning?


S(to me): It was simply bloody hard work. He’s given me a whole new SSE programme. Strength, speed, endurance. The fitness session was just that this week, and totally straight. No naked exercise or humiliating poses today. Other than me calling him Sir and him calling me girl it could have been any one of his clients working out. A real sweat and bust my guts session. He’s going to enter me for longer races regularly, so he’s directing my training towards doing as well as possible in those. Nothing for you to wank over there, I’m afraid, babe.


Well, I’m not so sure about that. Despite my misgivings about her training intensity and weight loss, I’ve probably expended a few wanks over the years at the thought of him driving her hard in sport quite apart from all of the heavy BDSM and sex stuff.


It’s later now but we haven’t been able to settle at all; both of us are really twitchy after her revelations, and speaking in monosyllables mainly, with our minds elsewhere. We still haven’t had sex either. Usually her erotic playbacks are the perfect aphrodisiac, but this has been so much to get our heads around, and that goes for both of us, because it’s obvious that Sherrie is still assimilating what’s happened to her just as much as I am. We’re both stunned; shell shocked, I guess. As she’d wound up her story I’d realised that she seemed greatly affected by all that she had undergone. Kind of quiet but emotional. Now I can feel that it’s not just her. I’m moved too. I worry that this is going to be immense in our relationship. Snippets keep coming back to me and making it bigger as I absorb them fully. Undoubtedly, more will be said about this avalanche of information she’s dropped on me. It needs to be, but for now we’re drained of the strength to pick at the carcass any more. It’s approaching ten in the evening. Neither of us have eaten and she’s adamant that she will obey the fasting order from Geoff.


J: Fuck it, Sher. Let’s walk down to the pub. Get some air and I’ll grab a snack there if you’re insistent on starving yourself. I’m not cooking for one, and I’m not having you cook for me if you aren’t eating.


I wouldn’t say she’s enthusiastic. We’ve already cleared a bottle of red between us, but alcohol is probably a good place to be tonight, and in the end we decide to get ourselves ready and go. While she’s dressing, I’m left with my thoughts. I’d been sceptical when she’d suggested that Geoff could take her even deeper into submission and I’d continued to blow hot and cold on the possibility ever since. Not now. After what she’s told me it’s clear that he’s very capable of pursuing this and she has set no limits. The fact that, despite everything, my cock is bulging my trousers tells me I can’t help her or myself either. Unless something absolutely terrible happens, I know that I will be compelled to let it all play out.


Sherrie’s taken a shower, dried her long ginger hair and thrown on a little black dress. It’s taken her no more than 20 minutes to put herself together but she’s still looking a million dollars. Sherrie always does. As we stroll down the road hand in hand like the lovers we are, I’m still distracted by it all. I keep replaying the various scenes she’s etched into my brain. Specifically though, if I’m honest, I’m wondering if she still has that chain of domination he gave her around her belly. I need to know. There’s always something. Some detail that gnaws at your brain. This stuff really is an obsession that never quits. Not ever.

[BDJ]

John,
This is like an old silent movie, the spinning reel illuminated by harsh light; age distorting but not dimming the flickering images before us. The plot is clear and the actors animated still after all this time. It's a reminder to us, with our knowledge of modern cinema, that the origins of the craft still possess a potent force; able to move emotions as effectively now as when it was first shown. It's an analogy apt for this description of the journey you and Sherrie took, remembered vividly from so long ago.

Your powerfully charged episode, for it transcends the description of mere narrative, shocks the mind while revealing the depth that Sherrie is willing to go to experience hedonism at its extreme.

Thank god you both survived.

BDJ

[Johng1953]

Wow, what an update.
I still can't get my head around how long this went on for.
Did Geoff ever realise you knew everything? Because he doesn't seem to care whether or not you did given his willingness to leave marks on her that must have lasted days if not weeks and going on from this point, seems to be requiring her to drop everything on demand to go and humiliate herself in front of him.

[RetiredSnowbird]

Having read your last post, but as much as I want to comment, I find that words cannot do justice to the effect this has had on me. Normally I have no interest whatsoever in the whole Domination/submission aspect of sexuality. Yet what you have written is something I could not get out of my mind last night…it took me a long time to get to sleep as I was thinking and fantasizing about the things she described.

I

[Tracey52]

Amazing and epic account. I can’t really get my head around how this effects Sherie as it does and you too l suppose. I find nothing sexually stimulating about the account at all. Seems like abuse to me and feel you should have put a stop to it at that point. But that’s not the nature of the relationship the three of you had at that point. Really interested to read how it all ended. Also thanks for the longer piece in an effect to speed up the recounting of events. It’s a total mind fuck. Really is. Talk about opening up Pandora’s box.

[PaNic]

Tracey, if you find “nothing sexually stimulating” about this story, what motivates you to read it?
I understand if it feels uncomfortable or distasteful for you, but that doesn’t make it abuse. The fact that John and Sherry are regularly checking in with each other and making intelligent assessments of each other’s choices demonstrates their capacity to consent and respect their own and each other’s boundaries.

I’m not sure if I’d want, choose or like some of the scenarios described, but that’s not the point. They are clearly making responsible adult choices to do this so good luck to them!

And thanks John for writing such a riveting story!
I know

[Nfhw]

I'm not shocked by the degree of uncommon ends which Sherrie have traveled. Obviously both she and John are excited beyond what most people ever experience. But, I'm dumfounded as to WHY such a brilliant, independent, successful gorgeous woman can be so enthralled being so totally dominated and humiliated.

The extreme contrast between her day and night personna must seem incomprehensible to the normal person. What is the psychological source for the desire for this treatment? Surely the mental receptivity to this treatment must be thoroughly understood. What is it?

And what would psychology predict to be the typical end result of this endless thirst and pursuit?