Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01

... power in their relationship for herself. Then she'd asked the question as he ached, as he stood there in the garden in the display pose she had placed him in, his cock softening as the last of his seed dripped into the grass.

She had asked Hector if he wanted to become her slave and he had said yes, just like that. It had felt like heaven.

As he got closer to home, the butterflies in his stomach began to dance, swelling to a tempest as he laid his hand on the front door. She had asked, and he'd said yes. After years of easing into it, of role playing in the bedroom, progressions on a path that both of them were eager to explore, the question in the dark had finally been the watershed moment Hector had been expecting, and, he admitted to himself with a guilty thrill, had been wanting for a long time.

He opened the door and entered the house.

"Lotte, I'm home."

The words were met with silence. Curious, having expected to be met at the door by his beautiful, sexy wife with a gleam in her eye and that knowing smile on her lips, her absence was unexpected.

"Lotte?"

He closed the door behind himself and made his way through the house, checking the rooms one by one. They had a nice house, the money saved from no children going into a larger mortgage. The lounge was empty, so was the office, though why would she have been in there?

He made his way through to the back of the house, to the open plan kitchen and dining room, with its wide fold-back doors that ...

... led out onto the garden. The house was drifting into the gloom of dusk, eerily silent. Maybe she was in the garage? Or maybe already upstairs, lying on the bed, waiting for him. Maybe she was wearing the lingerie he liked to see her in, the black lace that emphasised her long legs, her sleek body. Her long, black hair might be gathered back in a ponytail, or a sexy French twist, wisps framing her face, or left loose, to fall softly around her bare shoulders.

Rounding the corner, he found his wife sitting at the island bench, phone in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, dressed in her work skirt and top, scrolling absently though her messages.

"Hey," Hector called, feeling suddenly deflated.

Lotte looked up, as if noticing him for the first time.

"I called out. Why are you sitting here in the dark? Do you want me to switch a light on?"

He tried to keep his tone level, to hide the disappointment. He waited for her to shift her attention from the little screen in her hand.

"I'm early, like you said," he continued, "I got here as quick as I could. You said you had something planned."

He scanned the room, seeing nothing out of place. Everything looked the same as when he'd left that morning. His wife took a sip of wine, then put her phone down at last. She finally seemed to notice him, her pale grey eyes suddenly skewering him in the dim light of dusk, and he shivered. No, he'd been mistaken: it was all still definitely on.

"Upstairs. Get a shower. ...