MrSlateIL
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Joined: 3/22/2015
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I don't think Tony could have looked more uncomfortable. We were standing in the basement guestroom of their house, Tony had on khakis and a dark green polo shirt, and he looked like his client was just about to lynched rather than tried. I stood imposing in black shirt & slacks, and I'll never forget what my father said to me the first time I paired a black shirt with black slacks, 'you're not Darth Vader, and you're not Johnny Cash boy; go change.' Well tonight Dad, I was exploring the dark side, and corrupting the innocent... sort of.
Writhing on the bed, in a very pretty set of blood red and black lace undergarments, was Irene, the love of Tony's life, and mother of their two children. As soon as we entered the room, I'd shoved her against the wall, pinned her there, gagged her, blindfolded her, and stripped her; before throwing her on the bed, holding her down and tying her spread eagle; all the while I pinched and slapped her, leaving angry red marks, clear hand prints, and drawing out muffled cries when she struggled a little too much.
Tony stood off to the side, held up the wall, and sweated while he hid behind his glass of Merlot. I think he would have looked better at the lynching, or in the delivery room. Tony loved her. He'd loved her since junior high, from the first time she sang in rehearsals at their school's production of Hello Dolly, and while they had each dated others while they pursued further education. Once Tony had his law degree, and she was doing physical therapy, he returned to her and proposed. She'd dumped her six-month boyfriend with only a tearful apology, and said 'yes.' Two years later he gave her the beach wedding in Maui she'd always dreamed of, the horse back rides in Yellowstone, Paris, financial stability, the house, and in return she gave him two wonderful kids, learned to cook and entertain like a pro, and stood at his side when his clients were giving him ulcers.
But during their time apart, Irene had discovered that she liked a man to be rough with her. Demanding, forceful, controlling, and even scare her a little. Tony was a compassionate and generous lover, he didn't mind bringing toys to bed once and a while... he was even okay inserting a butt plug for her to wear during the day, and actually liked using a magic wand on her.
While he tried to give her what she needed, he loved her too much to even pretend to hurt her, and his comfort ended with a little light slapping and scratching, nipple clamps, and no more than ten clothes pins.
She was very open with him about her wants and needs, and he tried. They went into couples therapy, she eagerly explored his every sexual whim, not that he ever had many, and he tried. Finally Tony gave his permission for her to join a couple of websites, for her to engage in online-only, fantasy chats, email exchanges, and even a couple of relationships, so long as she never met them in the real world, and eventually, any pictures she exchanged never showed her entire face. Irene kept even more than the letter of his wishes. She gave him her passwords, copied and pasted every message into archived documents, swore that she'd answer any question he asked honestly, and anyone she shared fantasies or pictures with, had to be a minimum of three-hundred miles away.
Then a friend of a friend told her about our group. She found out about a local event, and dragged Tony out to it, both of them in masks, and dressed a little absurdly. After three events and one of my demos, Tony relaxed enough to stop looking like he was headed to a Halloween party, gave up his mask for shades and a ball cap of his most hated team, but still looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. After attending their second demo at my place, which had been rope work, Irene made Tony hang around, and the three of us, sat up for a few hours talking.
Before they left, Tony grudgingly gave his permission for her to share her fantasies with me, under the condition, that she stop corresponding with anyone else as long as she did, because I was local. She agreed with a squeal, and kissed him passionately.
So Irene and I were nothing but talk for months.
Tony had read every exchange between Irene and I, and became comfortable enough to have Irene invite me over to dinner, and allow a 'no nudity,' 'no intimate touch' play session, so long as he was there the whole time. Dinner had been awkward at first, but with a bottle (or two) of his favorite wine all to himself, Tony was loosening up a little.
“Ring it!” I barked, and Irene released the two inch bell clutched in her right hand, attached to her middle and ring fingers with a silk ribbon. The bell jangled and a with almost a practiced flick, she caught it and held it tight, muffling its ring again. Turning I walked right up to Tony, looked at the wall behind him, and pitched my voice for his ears only, trying to sound like I was in a courtroom with him. “What does the ringing of the bell mean counselor?”
Tony didn't take his eyes off the woman he loved struggling against my bonds. “It means stop. At the very least, it means she wants the gag off now.” I was impressed that he sounded like the professional he was. I gave him a grunt and a nod, then changed the subject on him. “Where's the bathroom down here?”
That threw him, but he recovered quickly, “under the stairs. Watch your head.”
“Right. I'll be back in a minute... don't say anything while I'm gone, but... why don't you slip a hand in her panties and see how much she's enjoying this?” I suggested before walking out. I left the door open just a crack, although we were the only ones in the house, and watched from the shadows.
Tony stepped into view after a moment, set down his wine, and without a word, placed his hand on her knee, which made Irene jump as best she could. I could see him screw his mouth shut, and slide his hand up toward her crotch. The bell clattered in her grip, but she didn't drop it. Tony's head jerked from the bell, to where he caressed her. Then his hand found her heat, and he groaned. He thrust his hand inside her panties, making Irene cry out through her gag, rattling the bell something fierce, and even from here, I could hear the sloppy wet sounds he was making as he fingered her as aggressively as he was comfortable with. I turned away and left them to their moment, hearing Irene's muffled scream of pleasure as I entered the bathroom.
When I returned, Tony was standing in the open doorway, glass and bottle in his hand, watching her. “Slate...” his tone was low, and almost choked. “I'm going upstairs and finish this off, and watch some tv. If you fuck her, if you so much as touch... what little she's wearing...”
“I won't touch her.”
“I didn't say that.” He choked out. “Leave... leave her... panties untouched. Okay?”
“Okay...?”
"From the waist up... you can... Just... just make her brush her teeth and gargle before she comes upstairs.”
“Tony? I need to be clear here... are you consenting to me baring her breasts, having open access to them, and her to perform oral sex on me?”
He emptied his glass in one pull. “I can't give her this... what she needs... and she needs this. I love her Slate. I fucking love her and I'd die for her, or... fuck.” His hand shook a little as he refilled his glass. “I can't believe I'm doing this... Yes. Yes I am. Her panties stay on, in place, and no direct contact. Toys are okay. She can oral you... But I swear to God, if you hurt her. If she hates you in the morning...” his eyes turned up to me and they burned. “I will destroy everything you have, and bury you in the worst prison in the state, for the rest of your life. Do you believe me, Slate?”
I looked back at him seriously. “Like I believe the sun's coming up tomorrow.”
“Good.” He nodded and took a pull of his wine.
“Tony... I only want to give her a good time. I want her to want more, I want you to let her have more. But I am not going to fuck this up, or fuck up your marriage. No matter what Irene and I talk about, you're the one setting the rules, and calling the tune. Okay?”
“Good. Then we're clear. Good.” Tony walked off and I watched him until he disappeared around the stairs.
I closed the door as I reentered the guest room. Irene was still a little breathless, and she wasn't struggling much anymore. I smirked and walked over to my toy bag, determined to change that. I drew out a long and short leather core smacker, and two short canes, one a pine dowel, the other a plastic evil stick that had been a flag for a bicycle. I laid the long smacker and the canes on the bed between her legs and ran a hand up from her ankle to just below her pantie line, letting my fingers trace just outside it, making her jerk and squirm trying to get away from my touch.
“Tony went upstairs Irene.”
She turned toward my voice and mewed a question.
“I'm not kidding. He also made sure I knew how much I could get away with tonight, and what he'll do to me if I fuck this up.”
She groaned and shook her head comically, which made me chuckle. Then I used the short smacker to hit her inner thighs with progressively harder blows the closer I got to her crotch.
“But he trusts us enough to leave us alone.” Irene was jerking with each blow now and yelping as best she could. “You look so good all tied up like that. But I want to redden that ass of yours.” I dropped the short smacker, and untied her ankles. Irene was a good girl and behaved as gave her wrists a little more line, turned her over, and secured her up on her knees. Thankfully her panties didn't cover much of her ass, and the damp crotch verified for me, just how much she was enjoying this. After I removed her strapless bra, and adored each dangling breast, I caressed each globe of her ass and began spanking her with my bare hands.
As I've said before, I'm good with accidental bruising, but if my play partner wants more than that, she needs to ask... and Irene practically demanded.
From my bare hands, I moved to the long smacker, then lost my shirt before I picked up the wooden cane, and finally the plastic one. Using both in a high-speed tappity-tappity-tappity-tappity-WHACK! When I set down the cane, her ass had a nice red stripe across it, she was sobbing and panting, the knot of the gag in her mouth was just soaked, and her blindfold was wet with her tears. Just running my fingers through her hair, and her pressing her head against me like a cat wanting more attention, got me so damn hard. So I slipped out of my slacks as quietly as possible so as not to alert her to what was going on. Then I shoved her over on her side and pulled down her gag.
“Oh fuck... oh fuck...” she panted as I brought my face closer to hers.
“Having fun Irene?”
“Oh god, please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please Tony, let him fuck me.” She begged trying to open her legs or present her ass better.
I leaned in and kissed her, and hers in return burned my lips and tongue. I grabbed her tits, kneading them roughly and pulled on her nipples. “Tony's not here. I told you that.” I snarled when I came up for air, still so fucking hard I could barely think straight. I climbed onto the bed on my knees and moved closer to her head. Then I took hold of her hair, and whipped off her blindfold.
Irene blinked at me, her eyes trying to adjust to what little light there was, then she realized I was naked. Her eyes just about bugged out as I grabbed my cock and pointed it straight at her mouth. She tried to look around quickly but I held her still. “Tony told me to make fucking sure you brushed your teeth and gargled before you went back to him.”
“Oh fuck... if you're lying...”
“I am not going to ass-rape prison for this, Irene. Now open that fucking mouth and let's see what you've got for a gag reflex.”
“Oh fuck yes!” Irene dropped her jaw and presented her tongue to another man for the first time in almost sixteen years, and I did my level best to make it worth the wait.
Coughing, gagging, and spluttering, Irene kept begging, “more! Harder! Deeper! Please Sir! MORE! MORE! MORE!” until her face was beat red, and tears and spit flowed freely.
For me, it was intense and explosive. The textbook definition of face fucking, and the single best orgasm from oral sex I ever remembered. I burst into her mouth and she whimpered and mewed with every shot, her eyes rolling up in her head.
Irene didn't need to be told to hold it in her mouth, and although Tony had told me to make sure she gargled, I don't quite think he had this in mind. Irene laid back and gargled, then pushed my cum out only to slurp it back up. I laughed a little at her antics, then cupped her face, and gave her permission to swallow. She locked eyes with me and did, before showing me how obedient she'd been. We kissed, then I untied her, and she wrapped me up in her arms before kissing me some more, and breaking down into tears.
I held her, and stroked her, letting her come down, and as her sobs subsided, she spoke, “thank you... holy fuck I needed that.” Her hands started roaming freely over me.
“You're very welcome.” I smiled stroking her hair.
“I'd really like to suck your cock some more Sir. May I?”
I smirked, “like I'd turn that down.” I shifted getting back up on my knees, and guiding her head back to me. As she lavished me with attention, Irene slipped her right hand inside her panties, and played with herself, but I grabbed her wrist when she tried to grab my cock with her wet fingers after she made herself come. “No.”
“Why?” She whined, “I can touch myself, I can touch you, I can suck my fingers, and I can suck your cock. I'm just switching to the hand I was touching myself with.”
“I said, 'No.' Tony's been very generous, I'm not bending the rules an inch. Not tonight. Lick them clean or wipe them off, but you're not touching my cock like that.”
Irene lowered her head to the pillow, “you're probably right, Sir.”
“Yes I am.” I released her hand and she looked into my eyes as she licked it clean, still stroking me gently with her left.
“Soon as he lets us, I want you to beat my ass and fuck my brains out, Sir. God the things I want you to do...”
“When and if.”
“I can be very persuasive Sir.” She smiled bringing her mouth back to me.
I took hold of her hair and forced her mouth where I wanted it. “Not with me you little cunt. You will remember your place.” I reached for the long smacker and started giving her ass slow strikes as she serviced me, making her jerk and whimper, and slip her hand back down her panties.
More than two hours later, Irene walked back into the guest room, naked except for the towel she was drying her hair with, and she glowed from her shower. Her ass was still pink, and I could see the shadows that preceded bruises. Irene lowered herself to her knees and bowed her head, “thank you for a most wonderful night, Sir.”
I stepped up to her, and brushed her cheek with my thumb, she pressed her face into me and nuzzled the lump in pants. “Tony sets the rules. We either keep the rules, or we don't get to see each other anymore.” Irene stopped her playful nuzzling, and just rested her head against me.
“I know... it's just...” Her hands came up, and she caressed my thighs, and then embraced me as best she could, her fingers up, in an almost worshipful way.
I stroked her shoulder blades, “I know... I know...”
“I'll try and behave Sir... but I may need a firm hand to remind me of my place. From time to time.” She sighed as I caressed her still damp hair.
“You really shouldn't be in here naked.”
“Probably not,” she smirked, stood, and gave me a wink.
“I'll let myself out.”
She gave me a finger wave, left me to finish packing, and went upstairs to thank her husband.
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It Just Ain't His Thing (pt1) - 
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