My Husband, My Slave--Part 3 - Sex Stories

My Husband, My Slave--Part 3

... either of us to be recognized. I don’t care for myself, but I don’t want anyone we know to see you in a potentially embarrassing situation. I’ve been planning this for two weeks and I’ve faxed the artist drawings of what I want. We have an eleven o’clock appointment. We can grab a bite once we’re done.” I continued down the highway for almost an hour before taking an exit that led to a run-down area of the town. There were closed factories with “For Sale” signs on both sides of the road. Just past them was a small strip mall that was mostly deserted. A neon sign that said, “Tattoos by Alexandra,” stood over the shop in the center. On one side was a sign in Spanish that identified the storefront as a church. On the other was a smoke shop that sold paraphernalia usually associated with smoking pot or hash. I parked in front of the tattoo parlor, waiting until John had walked around the car to open my door. Holding his hand I led the way inside. “Hello,” I said to the young and much tattooed woman who walked out from the rear of the store. “I’m looking for Alex.” “That’s me; you must be Sophie and I’ll bet this is John. Is he really your slave?” “Let’s just say that he’s a slave to love. When can we get started?” “Right now; shall we begin with John?” She led us through a curtain to what appeared to be an exam table like the one in my doctor’s office. It was covered with a clean sheet. I told John to strip and climb on. Alex drew the heart on his right cheek exactly where I ...

... wanted it. John was permanently marked as my slave an hour later. Then I took his place. We left at 1:00 exactly and exited the highway just fifteen minutes later at an exit that had several motels and restaurants. I selected one that had a bar. We each had a beer and a club sandwich. It was the closest we’d been to a normal couple in more than a month. I pulled into the garage and opened the front door by three. I led John into the living room where I sat at the edge of the couch and spread my legs. John dove between them, removed my scant panties and moved his lips to my cunt. I relieved myself a few seconds later. It seemed like a gallon of piss flowed into John’s throat. “Use the toilet, John and rinse your mouth then join me here so we can talk.” He jumped up, walked down the hall and returned about five minutes later to sit at my feet. “I want to know your feelings about the last month, John. Was there anything you liked? I’m sure there was plenty you didn’t.” “Would we go back to the way we were if I said I hated it.” “No, John—I couldn’t live with myself if I let you destroy us. I was more upset with your DUI arrests than I could ever tell you. I was afraid you’d either kill yourself or some innocent pedestrian. I knew those weren’t the only times you had driven under the influence. Your incident with Joseph shows how bad your judgment was and I could never justify all the money you threw away at that strip club. No, John—I could never stand to go through that again. ...