Confessions of a Kinky Wife (15 page)

I keened through the next few until, with only three left to go, he decided to lower my damp knickers and finish off on my damp bare bottom.

This added an extra heat and a sharp edge. It was almost unbearable. Almost. But I bore it.

After the twentieth and final stroke, I let down my guard and began to cry. My bottom hurt like mad but I felt absurdly happy and light – a kind of unburdening, I suppose.

Dan sat beside me and rubbed my shoulders and whispered soothing words.

‘I love you, Pip,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever think I don’t love you.’

‘I know,’ I wept. ‘That’s why I’m crying. Because you love me enough to do this. It’s happy tears.’

He lay down and pulled me on to him – it was pretty difficult with my hands cuffed, and it took a few minutes to get into a comfortable position, but eventually I lay with my cheek on his shoulder, held in his arms.

‘I just want to kiss and make up now,’ he said. ‘Make it all better for you. Run you a bath and rub some lotion into your bum. But I promised myself I wouldn’t do that yet.’

‘No? Why not? What are you going to do instead?’

‘I’m going to pay you back for that Mary Poppins comment.’

I craned my neck to catch his eye.

‘That was to pay
you
back for the Twinkletoes comment.’

‘Don’t care. I’m going to get my revenge and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re wearing handcuffs.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘Awww.’ He ruffled my hair. ‘I know. But I am the law.’

He slid out from underneath me, leaving me prone on the duvet, jerking about like a wet fish in my efforts to raise myself up.

‘Dan, I can’t take any more of that strap,’ I warned him.

‘Who said anything about spanking?’

I tried to look at him, but my neck threatened to crick so I buried my face back in the plump, soft cotton.

‘You can get back over those pillows, though. Here, let me give you a hand. Since you don’t have the use of yours.’

He helpfully shoved the three pillows back under my stomach, arching me over with my bum uppermost again.

‘Let’s have these a bit wider, shall we?’ he suggested, nudging my thighs apart with his palms.

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked nervously. ‘Is it going to hurt?’

‘No. Well, I hope not. Maybe a little.’

I knew then what he was going to do. At least, I thought I did, but when I heard a quiet buzzing behind me I decided I must be wrong.

The vibrator felt cold against my inner thigh, but it soon warmed on its travels up and down both legs. By the time it arrived between my pussy lips, I was ready for it. I sighed with satisfaction when Dan stroked it around my clit, occasionally pressing it down against the swollen bud. This was lovely. All my tension was floating away, replaced by sheer pleasure.

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ I murmured.

‘I’m good to you, aren’t I?’ he said, switching the vibe up a gear. Now waves of stronger arousal pulsed through me. I longed for him to really rub hard at my clit, but he kept easing off when things seemed to be building to a head.

‘You’re good … oh … please …’ If this was revenge, he was serving it very hot. Stupid proverbs, what do they know?

Just at the point before the point of no return, he took the vibrator away from my clit, causing me to buck my hips in a wild physical protest. He waited until I was still, then fed the length of juddering plastic into my vagina, inch by slow inch.

I wanted him to touch my clitoris. I was so close, so close to a spectacular orgasm, fuelled by my hot, sore bottom. But he didn’t touch my clit and, once the vibrator was halfway in, he pulled it back out again, then inserted just the final inch, leaving it buzzing away there for such a long time that I eventually snapped in frustration.

‘For God’s sake, Dan, just fuck me.’

‘Ooh, temper,’ he goaded, taking the vibrator out again.

‘Please,’ I wheedled, shimmying my hips.

‘Well, I might just do that,’ he said, filling my pussy with vibrations once more. ‘But be careful what you wish for, love. Because it might not be quite what you expect.’

I was right, I was right. I knew what he was preparing for.

The first lubed-up fingertip between my cheeks felt like a vindication. It also felt extremely rude and a little bit frightening, even though he had done this several times before, when using the plugs. But this time I knew there would be no plug.

He began to work the finger firmly towards my rear entrance. The curious helplessness of my arms was both troubling and reassuring. It saved me having to put up the token fight. All I had to do was lie there and take it.

‘Are you going to …?’

‘What do you think, love?’

‘You are.’

‘I am.’

His fingertip twisted and prodded, making me yield a little bit of ground with each determined probe. Soon he would have me open and ready for him. Soon I would know how that felt. And all the while, the vibrator kept up its low level stimulation, holding me on its high-tension wire.

I made a short, sharp exclamation as the finger popped through the tight ring and dug inside.

‘Got you,’ he whispered. ‘Right where I want you. Shall we speed this up, hmm?’

The vibrator’s shakings intensified.

I groaned with the strange … well, was it pleasure? I didn’t know. It was
something
but I couldn’t quite identify it … of having both holes occupied. I felt as if everything of me was concentrated in that low pit of sensation. Arms, legs, brain, all useless. I was nothing but cunt and arse, nothing but sex. It was all I was good for.

Dan’s finger speared up further, settling into an aggressive rhythm. It didn’t hurt but it felt wriggly and made my stomach release butterflies.

‘I want to put my cock up there,’ he said. ‘I want to fuck your arse.’

‘I know,’ I said, my voice coming out in sympathy with the vibrator, low and shuddery.

‘You want me to. You want my cock right here.’ He jabbed with the enclosed finger.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said in short gasps.

‘Good. Right. Settle down there, then.’

He took out his finger and let more cold lube drip between my cheeks from a height. I heard him taking off his belt and his trousers and his boots.

I wriggled and clamped my thighs, trying to find the perfect spot of friction on the vibrator.

‘Keep still,’ he ordered.

But it was hard, very hard to keep still. I was desperate to introduce the vibrator to my G-spot, so I could melt into a big gooey mess on the duvet. I knew that would disappoint Dan, who was now in a frenzy of lustful anticipation, so I tried to focus my mind on the spot of bedroom wall that needed replastering and forget that I was stuffed full of vibrator, awaiting sodomisation.

His hands felt big and authoritative on my bum cheeks, pulling them wide. I knew he was kneeling behind me. I knew what was coming.

‘OK, OK,’ he said, to himself, it seemed. Perhaps he was trying to hold himself steady. ‘Slowly.’

Something long and warm and thick placed itself in the crease of my bottom, rubbing up and down, spreading the lubricant all around. How would it compare to the plug? I wondered if it would be thicker. It was certainly longer.

The rounded tip of it butted my opening and I knew straight away that this part of it would not go in as easily as the tapered end of the plug.

I had to work at not clenching or trying to derail him. He took hold of a hip and pulled it towards him, easing forward.

‘I think I’m going to have to give it one good thrust, love,’ he said. ‘Or I’m going to dither here for too long. Hold tight.’

The lube eased his passage and he slipped in speedily, if a little eye-wateringly. God, he felt big. Really big, much bigger than the plug.

I couldn’t help myself; I closed my muscles against him, trying to repel the invasion.

But he only groaned and forged forward.

‘God, you’re so tight, oh, God. Fuck.’

The weight of delight in his voice allayed my little outburst of panic. He was slap-bang in the middle of a moment he’d fantasised about for a long time. I wasn’t going to take that away from him, even if it did sting like he’d rubbed raw chilli on his cock.

And the sting didn’t last, anyway. It was already dying down, to be replaced by a throb, a sort of dull ache. He was big and he was stretching me – I was going to be aware of this throughout. There was no way around it.

He made one last push and that was as far as he could go.

‘This is just …’ He groaned. ‘Your arse is hot and you feel so … oh, God. I’m sorry, I can’t … I’m so close already.’

‘It’s OK,’ I whispered.

‘Not OK, too soon. Got to … think of crime stats … housebreaking down 14 per cent, violent assaults went up over the summer months … right.’

His breathing steadied and he held himself perfectly still.

‘Does it hurt?’ he whispered.

‘A bit. Not much.’

‘I’ll take it easy.’

I don’t think he could have taken it easier, but I still found it the most squirm-inducing experience of my life. To feel that pressure and that friction and that
movement.
I mean, I’d had the first element with the plug, but the last two, no, that was new. I couldn’t help tightening around him, in my body’s mistaken assumption that this would expel its intruder, instead of holding him even closer.

He sawed slowly back and forth, and then, after a while, he remembered the dildo and he put his hand down there and began to jiggle it. It made me feel impossibly full, almost as if my entire lower body had been reconfigured. I no longer knew what was going where, what was thrusting and what was screwing.

All I could do was shut my eyes and take it.

The constant burn didn’t stop the pleasure from building. At first it was centred inside my pussy, then it seemed to spread outwards, to tap into my bottom, to swish around the top of my legs and the pit of my stomach.

At last it inhabited me entirely and I was its creature. My orgasm wrenched me out of everything controllable and took hold of me, a bodysnatcher.

Dan pumped harder, whispering, ‘Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, you like this, take this,’ until he emptied himself inside me and pushed me down flat on the bed, crushing me to the mattress.

I shed a few tears, nothing to do with pain or sadness, everything to do with exhaustion and intensity. He pushed his cheek against mine and turned his face to kiss me.

‘Are you OK? Was that all right? You should have said if I …’

‘No, no, it was good. Surprisingly. Powerful.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’

We fell asleep like that and I dreamt I was trapped by an avalanche.

I know, I know.

It’s been months since I last updated. I meant to keep this more regularly, but it’s been a busy time. Besides, I have that
other
diary to keep now. Dan’s famous online discipline journal. He makes me write in it every day, and describe the day and what I’ve found difficult and what I’m getting better at. If I’ve earned a punishment, he makes me blog about it in fine detail – pseudonymously, of course. Then he adds his comments and sends it out into the web for general perusal.

It’s weird, but we’ve made a lot of new friends through it. At first, I was terrified we’d out ourselves, but we’re careful and at first nobody seemed to read it anyway, much to my relief.

But then, as autumn crept towards winter, we started to get comments. And the commenters linked us on their own blogs. And then we got more comments and more links until we seem to have become part of a big online community of corporal-punishment enthusiasts. Some are more extreme than us, and some have an ideological stance we don’t agree with, whilst some are at the milder end of the scale, but we’re all in a similar boat – some of us sitting less comfortably than others.

At first I was horribly embarrassed by this, but now it’s nice to have friends who are in a similar position, striving for the same things. I’ve had lots of good advice, and so has Dan, and it’s kept us going even when we’ve started to feel discouraged or freakish for what we do.

As far as I know, my old university friends still think I walk all over Dan’s back in pointy stilettos. As for Dan’s colleagues at the station, I don’t think Patrick has said anything to them, although he makes the odd snide remark in the locker room from time to time.

Work continues to be fraught and stressful and, while I still snap and bitch at Dan when I come home after a particularly shitty day, the inevitable bottom-warming that follows heads off the moody sulks I used to indulge in and clears the air.

And it relieves some of his stress too. Win win.

We even met up with a couple we got to know through our blog. I wasn’t keen on this – it seemed too soon. But emails flew between us and eventually they talked us round. We went for a drink in town and they were lovely – slightly older than us, but they’d been living this ‘lifestyle’ since they met and were very experienced.

I stood outside the pub for ages, telling Dan I didn’t think I could go through with it. I didn’t think I could look them in the eye, knowing what they knew about me.

‘We don’t have to do this, Pip, but we can’t just stand them up. Let’s go inside and say you aren’t feeling well.’

‘They’ll try to reschedule,’ I wailed, taking a few steps away towards the tube station.

Dan took a firm hold of my wrist and shook his head.

‘Don’t run away from me,’ he said. ‘It’s basic good manners to apologise to them. Come on.’

‘Well, if I have to face them anyway, I might as well stay. I don’t want to go in there. Dan. Don’t make me.’

‘You’re being ridiculous, Philippa.’

Uh oh. Philippa. Code for ‘I am considering spanking you’.

And then a woman came out of the pub and said, ‘It
is
you, isn’t it?’ and I couldn’t make my excuse after all.

It was excruciating at first, having their eyes on me, feeling that they knew my deepest secrets. They knew all about the caning and how I howled my head off and locked myself in the bathroom. They knew about the time Dan put ginger root up my bum and it burned so that I couldn’t keep still. Worst of all, they knew all about my silly little foibles and shamefully childish strops.