Just A Spanking: Tales of Dominance and Submission (6 page)

My husband was a very private person. We didn’t go to clubs or play parties. He enjoyed threatening me with exposure, and we’d occasionally engaged in some semi-public scenes (the sudden recollection of one spanking in Central Park set my pussy flowing), but most of the time he preferred to test and torment me at home. To be honest, I was the one with the exhibitionist fantasies. Greg understood my warped mind only too well.
Hence the bells.

“California’s quite a ways from New York. And of course, I’ve been really busy with work.” James looked exactly like the Silicon Valley super-nerd he was:
 
unruly black hair too long to be fashionable, geek glasses, a sensitive mouth, penetrating eyes,
a
complexion without the slightest trace of a California tan. He was well built, though, neither flabby nor too skinny. The company he’d founded must have had a gym. “I’ve thought about you quite a bit, though.”

About me?
About us?
I didn’t have the nerve to ask. Fortunately, my friend Neena sailed up to us, waving a glass of eggnog in one hand and a smoked salmon-wasabi canapé in the other.

“Bella!
What a fabulous party!” She gave me an enthusiastic hug. I worried that she’d feel the clamps or the bells digging into her well-padded chest. She gave no hint of having noticed when she released me, still clutching her drink and hors d’oeuvres. “The food is to die for! And you’ve invited so many interesting people!”
 
She stared pointedly at James, who looked amused by her ebullience.

I took her hint, grateful that she’d provided an escape from the unsettling conversation. “Neena, this is James, one of Greg’s oldest friends. He’s visiting from San Francisco. James, Neena, my director of sales.”

“
And
your closest friend!
Delighted to meet you, James! I love San Francisco. I went to school at U.C. Davis. What do you do?”

“What does anyone do in northern California? I work in high tech. Software tools for ubiquitous computing.”

“Sounds fascinating.”
Neena gobbled the tidbit in her left hand, drained the eggnog in her right, and set her empty cup down next to the punch. She seized James’ arm and pulled him toward one of the sofas. “Tell me more about it. I try hard to keep up with the latest technology, but things move so fast these days, it’s really tough...”
 

I chuckled. A faint tinkling music reached my ears, replacing my momentary amusement with a mix of arousal and terror.

I felt Greg’s gaze like a spotlight trained on me, a beam of pure heat. He stood by the sound system, across the living room, a goblet of ruby wine clasped between his finger and thumb. He’d dressed up for the party. In his black raw silk jacket and silver-grey turtleneck, he was totally gorgeous. Familiar gratitude tightened my chest.

Greg was taller than I was by nearly a foot, taller in fact than anyone else in the room, with the powerful build of a wrestler. His square chin and prominent nose made him look rough and a bit dangerous. Finely etched brows and a plump, mobile mouth tempered that impression with a hint of elegance and sensitivity. Handsome, brilliant, well-educated and well-to-do, Greg could have had any woman he wanted. And he’d chosen me.

Love and lust together nearly overwhelmed me. My initial impulse was to rush across the room to kneel at his feet. I suspected, however, that he wouldn’t approve. He favored me with an indulgent smile, as though he sensed my inner turmoil. Then he arched one eyebrow and pursed his lips as though to whistle. I was at his side in two seconds.

He draped his arm around my shoulder and nuzzled my hair, threatening to dislodge my carefully arranged French twist. I snuggled against him, not caring at all. He tilted my chin to raise my eyes to his and brushed his lips across mine. I swear
,
my over-stimulated body nearly toppled into climax from that brief touch.

 
“I want you to do something for me, Bella.” He pitched his voice low, so that only I would hear.

“Of course.
Sir.”
 
The sudden steel in his gaze made me add the honorific.

“Go into the bedroom. Remove the clip and the bells from your clit.”

Vaguely disappointed, I had the temerity to object. “It’s all right, Sir. I can bear it.”

“No, I don’t want to cause any damage. A clitoris is more delicate than a nipple. Leave the clamps on your tits.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, noting and appalled by my own relief that he was not about to strip away all my hidden signs of submission.

“Next, get the red butt plug from the toy box, lubricate it, and insert it. Come back out to take care of our guests when you’re ready.”

A shock of arousal sizzled through me. “But, Sir...” I could already imagine the horrible sensation of walking around in my high heels, the fat bulk of the plug secretly stretching my rear hole and shifting with every step, the bells tugging at my aching nipples. I dreaded it. I wanted it.

“Would you refuse one of my requests, Bella?” Greg shook his head in reproach. “I thought you wanted to please me.”

“I do, I do, Sir. It’s just...”

“Excuses are just a form of disobedience.” He sighed and released me from his grasp. I felt abandoned. “And here I thought I’d trained you so well– that you were mine to command.”

“I am, Sir... I’m sorry.
Whatever you say.
I’ll wear the plug, if that’s what you want.”

Greg’s face brightened. “That’s my girl. Go on, now. I want you horny and well stretched, for later.”

For later?
His threat–or was it a promise?–only turned up the volume on my excitement. I scurried off to execute his instructions, bells ringing in my wake.

I don’t know how I survived the rest of the party. I couldn’t sit. I could barely walk. Every movement made me more aware of the lewd instrument stuffed into my rectum. My newly liberated clit pulsed and shuddered as the plug shifted inside me. I was glad Greg had let me wear my long, paisley-print silk skirt. The pattern hid the growing damp spot between my thighs.

Finally, all the guests had left, aside from James, who appeared ready to bid us goodnight. I couldn’t wait to be alone with Greg, to see what he had planned. I suspected I’d come the first time he touched me.

James excused himself to go to the toilet. I puttered around the table, gathering up empty glasses. The butt plug felt bigger than ever. Greg leaned against the wall, over by the twinkling Christmas tree, his eyes following my every move.

“Never mind that, Isabella.
Come over here.”

“But...” His glare silenced me. I abandoned the party debris and went to stand before him. He towered over me, making me feel hot and embarrassed and deliciously vulnerable.

“Strip.”

“What? But James will be out at any moment...?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I told you to strip.” He crossed his arms across his chest and waited.

His devious plans were suddenly crystal clear. No wonder James had teased me.

I wanted to obey, I truly did, but I couldn’t move. Behind me, I heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open.

“This is your last chance, Bella. Take off your clothes this instant, or James and I will have to rip them off of you.”

A vivid picture
rose
in my mind– my fancy outfit in shreds, my body skewered front and rear by twin cocks. My pussy gushed and my rear hole clenched around the hard plastic plug. Would they really...? I forced myself to grasp the hem of my tunic and draw it up over my head. The fabric caught on the clamps; the bells rang out, loud in the quiet apartment. I was glad my face was hidden by my garment.

“Silver bells, silver bells–it’s Christmas time in the city...” James had a fine tenor voice. He managed to hold the tune even as he laughed.

My head emerged from the tunic. Greg took it from me, throwing it onto a nearby chair. He caught my eye and gave me little smile of encouragement. I melted into a hot puddle of liquid desire. “Turn around now. Let my friend see your pretty, swollen nipples.”

I heard James breathing behind me, fast and shallow. My heart did somersaults in my chest. My juices trickled down my thighs. Slowly, I pivoted to face the man with whom my husband planned to share me.

It was like one of those dreams where you’re moving through jello. One hundred eighty degrees seemed to take forever.

At last I stood face to face with James. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. I stared instead at the lump that tented his trousers, my cheeks on fire, my silver-clasped nipples throbbing like crimson beacons.

“You told the truth,” James spoke over my head to my husband. “She’s exquisite.
Though her nipples are red as Rudolph’s nose.”

Greg laughed, a rich, rumbling sound that sent a chill up my spine. “She’s been wearing the clamps for a while. Why don’t you take them off?”

James took a step closer. I must have flinched. No one but Greg had touched me for so very long. I belonged to my husband. Yet here he was, offering me to this near-stranger.

“Trust me, Bella. I won’t hurt you,” he murmured as he removed the dangling bells and tossed them aside.

“Much,” added Greg with a chuckle.

James’ fingers worked the screw that forced the clamp to compress my right nipple. They were long and slender. I imagined them sliding into my soaked channel. A mini-climax shuddered through my pussy. Then the clamp released its hold on my flesh. I screamed in agony as the blood rushed back into the battered nub. I stumbled and would have collapsed if Greg had not caught me in his arms and pulled me against him.

“There, that’s a brave girl,” Greg soothed. Through the fabric of my skirt, his erection prodded the base of the plug. Meanwhile, James pursed his lips around the aching bead of flesh, laving it with his hot tongue. It seemed directly linked to my clit. Outrageous pleasure arced through me, totally erasing the pain.

His mouth still fixed to my right tit, James unscrewed the clamp on the left. Sensation flooded through me, agony and ecstasy so intertwined that I couldn’t tell them apart. My overloaded nerves swept me into a fierce climax.

I jerked in Greg’s arms, waves of delight shuddering through my body. James continued to suckle me. One tiny corner of my mind realized that I should have controlled myself, that my husband would make me pay for coming without his permission. I simply had no choice.

Greg was nibbling my earlobe when I recovered. James was fumbling with my skirt. “She’s so sensitive,” he marveled as the garment pooled around my ankles. “You’re a lucky man.”

“I am indeed.” I glowed at my husband’s praise. “And so are you, my friend–lucky that I’ve decided to share her.” He propped me back up on my feet. “Turn again, Bella.
Show James your lovely ass.”

Oh, no! The diffuse pleasure still tingling in my limbs contracted to a single focus–the enormous toy plugging my anus. The flared base protruded like a flag from my butt, a lewd announcement of my deviant desires. I’d checked it in the mirror when I first inserted the plug, embarrassed even in private at the obscene way it parted my cheeks.

It was useless to protest, though. Both men understood that pure lust boiled underneath my superficial shame. Indeed, the shame stoked the lust. With mincing steps, fighting another impending climax, I faced my husband and displayed my stretched asshole to his friend.

James released a whistle of appreciation.
“Oh, yeah!
You promised you’d plug her for me...”

God, had they planned this whole scene together? Discussed all the torments to which they would subject me?
 
I wanted to sink through the floor, but Greg held me fast, his big hands clutching my shoulders.

“Should we punish her for coming?” Jame
asked,
cupping and kneading my rear cheeks. His firm, sure hands felt heavenly. “I’d dearly love to redden this gorgeous ass...”

“Later.” My eyes flicked up to read my husband’s face and saw naked desire. “Let’s string her up in the bedroom and fuck her first. If she doesn’t object, that is...”

His lips drew back to reveal his sharp teeth. He reminded me of a wolf. And I wanted him to devour me.

“No,” I answered, simultaneously mortified and proud, almost in a whisper. “I don’t object at all.”
   

I was glad when Greg captured me in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. I don’t know if I could have walked.

It took only a minute or two for Greg to cuff me and suspend me from one of the hooks we’d added to the ceiling. I was in a daze, pleasure sparking through me even though no one was touching me. I watched while my husband disrobed, revealing his familiar, beloved body–powerful arms, broad, dark-furred chest, corded thighs and of course his swollen cock, jutting toward the ceiling like a rocket about to take flight.

Off to one side, James was also taking off his clothes. I was desperate to watch, but I kept my eyes on Greg. Somehow I felt it would be disloyal to lust after his friend.

My husband read my desire, though, as he always does. He snatched the pins from my hair, setting it loose to tumble down my back. “Go ahead and look, Bella,” he murmured in my ear. “I know you want to.”