The morning after Amy and I first introduced BDSM into our bedroom was almost just as thrilling as the previous night’s acts had been. That palpable tension was still hanging in the air when we awoke. I got out of bed walking a little taller. Amy had a little wiggle to her walk that had been absent for so long, I had forgotten it was missing.
When I got out of the shower she was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the kids. She was stood at the same place at the counter she had made my cocktail the night before, wearing the same robe. I walked up behind her and pressed my body into hers, deja vu. I took firm hold of her hips and kissed her neck, easily accessible because that messy bun was still there to keep her hair out of my way. Normally she would try to waive me off, “Stop. Can you get the kids their juice?” Something to that effect. Not today though. She melted, just a little. “Good morning my good little slut.” I whispered in her ear. I could feel the tiniest little shiver work its way up her body.
She turned to face me and we exchanged a long deep kiss, not the usual morning peck we had grown so accustomed to. She broke free and placed her hands on my chest, I could she was blushing. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you your coffee.” Her eyes stayed locked with mine as she said it.
“What the hell is this?” I thought to myself, as I took my seat at the table. Amy and I were always so busy seeing to the kids in the morning that the thought of my wife bringing me a cup of coffee seemed foreign. There was a lot that didn’t add up. Why weren’t we running around like crazy people? Why had we not had our first argument of the day yet? Am I in the wrong house? For about a half a second I allowed my my mind to entertain the possibility that my dick held magic powers. That wasn’t it though. Right? No that wasn’t it.
The prior evening was hot and sexy, and more than that, a tremendous absolution of some pent up dark desires. What the hell did it have to do with order falling over our house though? How did tying Amy up and smacking her on the ass earn me table service? The truth is I didn’t really care all that much about the answers to those questions. Not at that exact moment anyhow.
What I was most concerned about at that very instant was doing it all again, and then some, and soon. I wanted to feel again what I had felt last night. The power and control, the scratching of a certain forbidden itch, I could already feel the addictive nature of this thing. Could I bring that out of her again when I got home from work? Two nights in a row, unheard of these days. More importantly, now I knew I needed a little planning, Winging it was only going to get me so far.
I had six hours before I had to leave for my shift and Amy and I spent the whole time going about our daily activities as we always did. There was something going on though, there was that magnetic push and pull, again. Knowing glances as we got the kids dressed. If our hands accidentally grazed one another while passing something back and forth there was an electrical charge passed between them. I couldn’t let her just walk by without touching her in some way.
I spent the whole eight hours of my work day playing out scenarios in my head, like a coach coming up with plays before a big game. “Ok, so if I start out with her over there and we engage in x,y,z, it makes the most sense to move her this way and go into a,b,c.” I wanted to control and manage every second of our time together. Sometimes I’d hit mental stumbling blocks. “No, that’s no good,” I’d think. “How can you get her on her hands and knees quickly if she’s still tied to the bed at that point?” Little pieces of exhilarating minutia like that, running through my mind on a loop.
Words. Words, were important, I needed to think about what I wanted to say. I couldn’t just slow walk around the room calling her a “good slut.” That would get old quickly. It wasn’t very sexy and it also didn’t appropriately convey the gravity of what we were stepping into.
Gravity, as it happens is going to become an integral word on this blog. We’re going to talk more about that down the line when I share my personal D/s philosophy that I went on to develop. I was nowhere near the point of philosophy at this moment though. I just really wanted to engage in some more down and dirty, kinky sex with my wife.
The texts had started coming in the moment I had pulled into the parking lot at work that day. Amy wasn’t always comfortable talking about sex out loud. She preferred to address it in text. “What the hell was that last night!?” Was the first I received from her. “You asked for it.” I shot back. The foreplay was already beginning. We text each other back and forth, egging the other one on, for the next eight hours. All while I worked on planning what I was going to do when I got home and finally got my hands on her again. I don’t recall the exact words I used in my last message to her before I left for home that night, but roughly it went like this…
“I’m leaving here in thirty minutes. You need to go get in the shower, I want you ready for me when I get home.” I went on to tell her exactly what underwear I wanted her to be wearing. I told her to put her hair up the way I liked. I told her to make herself a drink and to sit down and not worry about whatever it was she was doing at the moment. I wanted her relaxed when I got home. I wanted to be greeted by the same woman I met the night before. As it happens, I was.
We talked briefly when I got home, about the kids, about how our respective days went. It was formality, we both knew it. Before long we found ourselves in the bedroom. Lying on our sides, I began massaging her back and shoulders. All the while she pressed her ass back against me with all her might while I pressed right back with all of mine. To touch her again, to feel that electricity once more, felt just as good as any vanilla sex we had ever had before.
After a while I worked my hands down below her waist. The underwear that I had told her to wear were soaked. I placed my lips next to her ear and whispered. “What we’re doing right now, I don’t want it to ever stop, I never want to go back. I want us to feel like this every last second of the day. Do you want that too, you little slut?” “Yes Sir,” she moaned. “Good”, I growled as pounced on her and took her by the hair, “I thought I told you to put this fucking hair up.”