Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

Tell Me What You Want Ch. 01

... wardrobe, straightening up again. His back ached, indicating that his wife had left him there a long time. She hadn't changed, what had she been doing? He opened his mouth but before he could ask, she cut him off with a stern look.

"Silence. Slaves are to be seen and not heard. Don't make me have to discipline you."

Hector's mouth snapped shut, partly in shock. She'd said she would discipline him. That was new. They'd explored impact play before; even last weekend, when she bent him over the island bench and assaulted his rear with a bamboo cane. Discipline meant something else, and he wondered at her choice of words.

The caning had been deeply sexual, the sensation of being struck had engendered a physical response, sensitising his skin, the flood of adrenaline, the endorphins, the pain mixing in with arousal as she continued through the punishment. Then there had been the other aspect, the part that had led to the arousal, the bit he hadn't talked about, the confession that he hadn't even made to his wife, even as he bent over the cold stone top, spreading his legs and presenting his buttocks to her.

He was the man of the house, the protector. It was his role to keep his wife safe and secure. He'd let her build her nest, providing her a haven, enjoying the feeling of being a good husband, the respect in her eyes. His strength combined with her delicacy, dominating her physically, seeing the way she always had to look up at him. To have his delicate wife push ...

... his naked body down onto the benchtop, have him pinned there by no greater constraint than her hand on his back, and then to receive the blows from the cane, that had been utterly humiliating.

Even now, a week later, that feeling of his bulk being bent into surrender by his wife's slight frame, to be put into such pain merely because she wanted it, the way she debased him, made him tremble a little. The willowy woman he shared his life with had proven to be easily stronger in the end, doing as she pleased with her big, hulking husband.

She tugged on the leash and he followed her down the stairs. Discipline was different. Discipline was about behaviour modification, not about release. When she had finished with the cane, she'd reached beneath him, wrapping her hand around his solid erection, tugging at him until he had erupted in her hand, shooting his load onto the kitchen floor, his body finding a savage release after the torment of the lashes against his skin. Discipline meant something else, something they'd talked about after, sitting together on the couch, his wife still fully-clothed, and Hector naked, trying to keep his throbbing buttocks comfortable.

He knew the difference between what she'd just put him through and a punishment beating. The cane, the way she did it, the build-up and then the release, it was all a part of the play, the dynamic, aimed ultimately at the ferocious pleasure of his orgasm afterwards, and her pleasure from sating her burgeoning ...