The Morning After Thrill…

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.”

Fucking TikTok…

You and I are going to have jump around a little, I’ve decided. If I lay out the whole preamble leading up to Amy and I adopting our dynamic it will take forever to get to the stuff you’re really here to read about. So that’s what I’ll do, tell this story out of order. Suffice it to say though that our marriage was already on rocky ground when she began sending me the TikTok videos. All about Dominance and submission and kink. For years I had wanted to experiment but had never had the nerve to ask for what I wanted. She, to her credit, could sense this. She would constantly comment after sex that she could feel I was holding something back, “You’re not doing what you want to do and I can tell.” She would say. She had always been uncomfortable talking about sex, the videos were her way of saying “Let’s go for it.”

I didn’t take the bait at first. Regardless of what I felt inside, I knew that the things I wanted were wrong. “A relationship is an equal partnership”, I thought to myself, it’s not right to want the things that you do. A good man does not Dominate a woman. Especially when she is your wife and the mother of your children. I felt a great deal of guilt and shame about my dark wants. She kept sending the videos though, Dom’s discussing technique, subs talking about the fulfillment they got from submission, it was tantalizing. Then one day I bit down on the hook. I was working an evening shift and I got a text, another video. “You want this?” I responded. “I want you to get what you want.” She replied. I felt so many conflicting feelings flood me all at once. I was horny, sure, but I also felt excitement, nervousness, anticipation, and some guilt. I typed the word “spanking” into the gif search feature of my text messenger. A coupon for “One Free Spanking” popped up. I sent it to her along with a wink emoji. Lame, I know. “Why would I need that?” She typed back, “You’re the boss aren’t you?” There were four hours left in my shift, they would prove to be the longest four hours of my life.

I got home at around 11:30 that night. Amy was still up, which was rare. She was sitting on the couch in our dimly lit living room. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was having a drink (also rare) in nothing but a bathrobe (unheard of). The kids were all asleep and the house was quiet. I set down my work bag and walked to her. I gently took her drink from her and slowly pushed her back onto the couch. I climbed on top of her and for several minutes we kissed with a level of passion and real desire for one another that had been absent for years. She asked if she could make me a drink and I helped her up and lead her into the kitchen.

I stood behind her pressing my body into hers as she mixed my cocktail. My hands found their way under her robe and caressed her naked body as I kissed her neck. She turned to hand me my drink and I spun her back around and carried on with what I was doing. “You don’t move without my permission.” I whispered in her ear. “Now, let’s talk about what is going to happen tonight.” I whispered. “You’re in charge.” She quietly moaned. “Do whatever you want.”

I want to point out now that I had no idea what I was doing or what it was I really even wanted. I knew next to nothing about how BDSM should be practiced, I still, like most people, have lots I could learn. I was chasing a faceless primal desire at this point. I knew about safe words at least and so I instructed her that she should say “yellow” if she was approaching her limit and “red” if she wanted to stop. If it were today I would never accept “whatever you want”, that’s far to grey a statement. I’m explaining my behavior right now, not excusing it. We carried on…

I faced her toward me and opened her robe I began massaging her tits and told her to repeat her safe words back to me. As she did I grabbed hold of her nipples and slowly began pulling them in my direction. “Yellow and Red”, she managed to stutter out. “Good girl.” I told her, as I lowered my head to her chest and bit her nipples. I then began slowly crouching, kissing her body all along the way. I craned my neck around her and bit her ass, “oh!”she said under her breath as she jumped slightly in surprise. I stood and once again walked behind her. I rubbed her ass and placed my lips next to her ear once more. “I’m going to go take a shower. When I get out I want you waiting for me in the bed. I want you naked and put your hair up.” With that I lifted the back of her robe and gave her a good smack on her bare cheeks and she went on her way to the bedroom.

When she was out of sight I placed my hands on the counter and leaned hard on it. I felt like I had to catch my breath. I took a sip of the drink that I had been neglecting. This exchange was very out of character for both of us. The raw sexual energy was palpable in the air, I know that sounds like a cheesy romance novel line but I swear it’s true. You could feel this wild animal like sexual power, it was hovering everywhere. It was thrilling. I poured the rest of the cocktail into the sink and headed toward the shower. I knew she’d be able to see me as I walked the hallway so I did my best to walk slowly and deliberately into the bathroom. Believe me, I wanted to run though.

The whole time I was cleaning myself up my mind was racing. I was like a dog who had caught a car. Now what? I knew I wanted this badly, but I had no idea what to do now that I had it right in front of me. I quickly blocked out in my head how it all should go, what I wanted to do and what I thought I was supposed to say. As I was drying myself off I looked at my facial expression in the mirror. It was, oddly, a perfect physical representation of every feeling I was experiencing. The excitement, nervousness, desire, and yes, even the guilt, were all clearly visible.

I walked down the hallway toward the open bedroom door as slowly and deliberately as before. I mentally gave myself a pep talk as I encountered the doorway. “Don’t you back out now! You wanted this. Now you have it. She is willing, Go take what you want!” And that’s exactly what I went in there and did.

I did not mean for this “origin story” to go on for as long as it already has. I’m gonna stop here before I get any further. You have my word I’ll wrap it all up in my next entry. I’m not going to come back to it three posts from now or something like that. I won’t make you beg for it. Though depending on who exactly you are, that could be fun…

Well that happened fast…

We were so goddamned normal. Maybe that was the problem. Amy and I had been together for ten years, married for eight of them. I worked long hours so she could stay home with the kids, three of them, our youngest just a baby. The loft in the city had long ago been traded in for the little house in the suburbs. It sounds so cliche that you might assume I’m making all of this up. I’m not. From the outside it all appeared to be a twenty first century nod to Norman Rockwell. Beneath the surface though there were problems, tension, and hurt.

I can pick apart the last year of my life and examine the pieces and see some things clearly. Tiny images, clues almost, they are like clips pulled from full length scenes that when compiled should comprise a finished film, but they don’t. When viewed as a whole everything is blurry. Like the scrambled Spice Channel of my youth I keep looking, waiting anxiously for that brief few seconds of picture clarity.

This is all going to heat up and get juicy shortly. I assure you. You need to stick with me for a little while though. If you don’t first have a grasp on our life as it was and how it came to be, you won’t appreciate the introduction of the 24/7 Dom and sub relationship that materialized almost over night. The rules, the contract, the collars, the spankings, the clamps, orgasm control and denial, all of it… we both thought they saved our marriage. Only one of us now thinks they are the reason it ended.

The pace at which I tell the story of my journey into BDSM will be slower than the pace at which the events themselves unfolded. This is not because I enjoy building suspense (I certainly do though), it’s because at the end of the day I’m still trying to figure out for myself just what the hell happened. Lust, romance, control and devotion crashed head on into a freight train loaded to the brim with mistrust, misunderstanding, manipulation, and possibly abuse. It all comes from both sides and in most cases not the one you’d assume. This is the place I am going to come to in order to pick through the wreckage. You are welcome to watch. Everyone loves a train wreck.