Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01

... a lot of time doing it, and if the last hour had been anything to go by, Lotte had progressed a long way in her thinking.

That gave him a buzz, just realising that. She'd always managed to get her way in their marriage, though in the early days it had been tentative, a steady pressure to get what she wanted, staying on target until Hector yielded. It might have been a shopping expedition, or the destination for a weekend away, or dinner bookings. Later in their marriage, it had been furniture choices, houses, cars, all filtered through her discerning eye as she made sure it was what she wanted.

Often, it was what he wanted too. His wife had excellent taste. Often, like with their kitchen, it was just easier to let her have her way, rather than pretending to care about bench tops or tap fittings. It made her happy, and that made him happy.

More recently, it had shifted into the bedroom. There hadn't been the big, world-changing discussion, but a steady shift in direction. It had turned into one-way traffic, an exploration of only her fantasies, but again, Hector didn't mind. She asked him to do things, and he did them, and it made her happy. Sometimes it made her ecstatic.

Now, in the dark with a raging hard-on, with nothing to do but think, he began to see it as something else. Lotte had stopped asking him to do things for her, and started to tell him. It had been a subtle shift, but the tone of her voice had changed, no more please and thank you. It had ...

... triggered something deep inside him, a yearning to respond.

Looking back, she'd known a long time before he did, pushing gently, supply inexorable pressure, moving their relationship from pouting and fluttering her eyes while asking if he could please do this or that for her, go down on her, make love to her, to this: collared and naked, stored out of sight in his own wardrobe.

Hector could have opened the door and stepped out, gone to find her, like way back at the start when he could have refused to give her oral and taken her anyway, sating his desires.

But, she knew he would stay where she'd put him. No, Hector was fixed in position in the wardrobe, not tied there with rope, or handcuffed to the hanger rail, but bound with something far stronger. Hector was unable to move simply because his wife had told him he couldn't.

Hector lost track of time, his mind wandering, his body aching more and more for release, his manhood still rigid, pushed up against the clothing in front of him. Suddenly the door opened, flooding his little, cramped world with light. He turned his head, temporarily blinded, feeling a hand touch his throat, scrabbling for the collar, then a click, and then withdrawing again. As his eyes became accustomed to the light, he could make out the figure of his wife, still in her skirt and top, but also still wearing her savagely-high boots, a supercilious smirk on her lips. A leash ran from her hand to his collar. She tugged.

Hector slipped out of the ...