My Husband, My Slave--Part 4 - Sex Stories

My Husband, My Slave--Part 4

... continued, “You see John worked for one of our competitors, but he hated his job—really hated it. He did it only because we needed the money. His sacrifice became unnecessary when I got my promotion. We no longer needed the money and someday soon we’re thinking about starting a family. I hate the thought of our child in day care while someone we barely know gets to see the baby’s first steps or hear its first words. John is the logical choice. Not only did he hate his job, but he’s much better at taking care of the house and cooking than I ever was. John made everything you’ll eat tonight, even the pastries.” I smiled and reached out for him as he approached. I kissed his cheek as he asked if anyone needed a drink. Daniel asked for scotch and water while Hans asked if we had any European beer. “We have Stella; will that do?” Hans replied with a smile and a nod. I broke away from the large group to speak with Daniel and Hans. I learned that he had attended the University of Heidelberg for his Bachelors and Oxford for his Masters. He was thirty-five and had worked for the bridge building firm for eight years, enjoying seeing the world, but looking forward to settling down in another few years. He told me about his family and how his grandparents had left Germany because of their opposition to Hitler and the Nazis. Only when the war was over did they return. “My grandparents weren’t Jewish and, from what I’ve been told, they didn’t have any close Jewish friends, but they ...

... recognized injustice and couldn’t tolerate being any part of it.” I liked Hans and would have spoken to him longer if I didn’t have to host the party. I made arrangements to meet him for lunch next Saturday. I did eventually agree to cuckold John with him. It was a decision I never regretted. Daniel was right—Hans was a bit longer and much thicker than Daniel. Even better, he had excellent orgasm control. Over the next eight months I cuckolded John with the chief engineer, a structural engineer, two welders, two riveters, two crane operators, and—breaking my own rule—Daniel again. I regularly read the Wall Street Journal during the fifteen to twenty minutes I spent eating my lunch. One day I noticed a small article tucked into the lower corner of page 64. I rarely read articles so far back in the newspaper because I don’t have the time, but something about it caught my attention. A minute later I was online checking a phone number in Zurich. I knew it was too late to phone the clinic today. Zurich was six hours ahead of us. That would be number one on my agenda for tomorrow. In fact, I decided to come in to work early in case the call took an extended length of time. I set the alarm forty minutes earlier the next morning, enjoying having my sleepy husband/slave wake to take my urine, wash and feed me before undertaking his daily chores. By now he was too well accustomed to being cuckolded. I was sure that he felt it was his lot in life to love a woman who was obsessed with the idea ...