020
JULIA
I was still in bed at 9:00 the next morning, having blown off spin class, when Lisa called. Who the hell needed aerobics after a night like last night.
"I couldn't wait any longer. I'm dying of curiosity. Did your plan work?"
"It worked like a charm," I replied. "You are talking to a very happy and slightly sore woman right now. I'm not horny for the first time in weeks."
"Oooh. How many times?" Lisa asked.
"How many times did I get fucked, or how many times did I cum?"
"Both. Don't hold back."
"Let's see. I got fucked three times with his cock, twice with his fingers, and I orgasmed," mentally counting, "eight, no, nine times."
"Nine times. Fuck! I'm coming over. I want all the juicy details."
"Oh, it was plenty juicy," I said. "Give me fifteen minutes. You caught me in bed, still sleeping, I was so worn out. Let me brush my teeth, put a robe on and start coffee."
"Fifteen, no more. Bye."
"Bye." Click.
I slipped on my robe, brushed my teeth and had the coffee started before she got there. I opened the door before she could knock, having watched for her.
She hugged me as she rushed in. "Nine times, really?" Lisa asked.
"At least nine. One of them lasted so long it might have been two."
"Oh, don't tell me that. Ten?"
"You wanted to know."
"It's not fair. You still have a husband and he still wants you and he can make you cum ten times in one night. Why are you so fucking lucky and I'm not?"
"Married the right guy, I guess."
"So, did you have to swallow?" Lisa asked.
"A little bit, not much, just the tail end of one of his orgasms, though he did make me lick him clean each time he finished in me. Maybe it's not quite as bad when it's mixed with my cum, but I managed to survive without retching. Swallowing still bothers me, I suppose. I won't overcome it easily. Oh, and he spanked me last night."
"He spanked you?"
"Thirty swats, for cumming without permission. I should have gotten sixty, because I climaxed twice without his permission, but since my slavery didn't really start yet, he made it thirty for the both."
"How did that go over?"
"Surprisingly well," I replied. "Better than I expected. You know me; I get a hangnail and I'm practically in hysterics. But I climaxed once before he started and again after the first twenty, so I was feeling very little pain."
"You climaxed from your spanking?" Lisa asked, uncomprehending.
"No, his fingers. Once at the dinner table, after he fed me..."
"He fed you?"
"Yes, I sat on his lap and he fed me. Chef's salad. He rubbed pieces of my food in my pussy and fed it to me. Plus he rubbed some of his with 1000 Island dressing on my tits and licked them clean. I was quivering and squirming I was so turned on, so he finger fucked me at the dinner table when we were done eating..."
The doorbell rang.
"Who the hell is that?" I asked.
Lisa shrugged. I got up and answered the door. It was a delivery driver from Lowe's.
"Delivery for a Mr. Scott Thompson, ma'am."
"Are you sure he didn't want it delivered to one of his job sites?"
"This is the address I was given."
It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility he'd have stuff delivered here. It had happened seven or eight times before in our marriage. It was rare, but not impossible.
"Put it in the garage then. I'll open the door for you."
I opened the garage door and they brought in some lumber, plywood, some hardware, some rope and chains. I wondered if he was building some kind of swing for one of his clients. When they were done, I closed the garage door again. It wasn't nearly as much as he usually used on a job site.
I went back to the kitchen, added more hot coffee to my cup, offering more to Lisa. She waved it off, saying, "finish up your story."
"Where was I?" I asked.
"He'd been rubbing food on you and licking it off, then was finger fucking you."
"Yeah. And after I orgasmed, he bent me over his knee and spanked me. The first twenty swats weren't too bad, but the very second I flinched and groaned, he finger fucked me again to cumming. Then, he gave me the last ten, harder than the others. They hurt and I cried, but I got through it. Then he bent me over the kitchen table and fucked shit out of me, slamming into me hard, his body smacking against my red ass and I climaxed again, maybe thirty seconds in. By that time, I couldn't even feel the pain in my ass anymore, everything else felt so good. That's the orgasm that might have been two. I swear it lasted for four minutes at least."
"Four minutes?"
"At least."
"I take it you're planning on going ahead with it then?"
"Damn straight."
"And it starts this Friday?"
"Scott won't know until tomorrow, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Now I've decided to do it, I don't want to drag it out and maybe get cold feet."
"Please keep me in the know. I can't wait to hear what happens next."
The second he walked in the door, I asked, "Does my slavery start this Friday?"
He smiled at my eagerness and replied, "It does, dear wife. I see Lowe's delivered the stuff I ordered. You will have to help me since we don't have much time."
"Help you with what?"
"With a new piece of furniture I designed."
"Furniture?" I remembered the ropes and chains and couldn't recall any furniture using anything like that except deck furniture, like swings or gliders for a porch.
"Yes, bondage furniture. Something to keep an unruly slave in line. Which is why we need to hurry. I'd like it to be done in the raw state by Friday and tomorrow is poker night." My pussy tightened.
"Are you going to build it in the basement?" Thinking of such a thing in my living room where everyone could see it making me nervous.
"It will be built in such a way it can be easily taken apart so we can eventually placed in the basement, but for now, I'm thinking in front of the picture window where everyone can see you if we open the drapes."
My pussy flooded. In my books, the scenes where the slave is publicly stripped and punished brought up my deepest feelings of shame and humiliation, yet strangely were among the most arousing.
"Scott! We still have to live here after our little experiment is over. How would we ever do that if you displayed me naked in the window?"
"You'd better be an exceedingly good slave or perhaps that's what happens."
Surely he was teasing me, having read some of my books. There were children in the neighborhood. One couldn't publicly parade around nude in front of children. Still the damage was done. If Scott touched my pussy now, he'd know how wet he made me.
"Let's eat so we can get started," Scott said. "Do we have any more of that chef's salad left. I thought it was exceedingly good, didn't you?"
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