Redundant Cock and Pussy Takeover

I'm not into whips and chains and all that stuff. Physical sadism just doesn't do much for me. Fantasy maybe, but not reality. I've tried spanking, even being spanked and spanking somebody else. I enjoy a bit of CP, like smacking Steve's butt for some misdemeanour. But floggings, bruises, blood, no way. I like obedience that doesn't need to be enforced. A verbal instruction, a set protocol, a raised eyebrow or hand gesture, that's my brand of domination.

As I'm getting more confident, more into all this, I'm also getting more into humiliation. For a while, certainly when we used to just do role-play occasionally, I struggled with humiliating Steve. I was like, hey, this is my husband! But now I don't have any qualms about that. Well, not many. I know the girls at work have worked out something's up. It took them a while. At first, I know they genuinely thought Steve was just helping out. But now they're like, hmm, interesting. I kind of want people to know about us. I don't believe you should thrust your kink in the vanilla world's face. But equally I don't think you need to go to extreme lengths to hide everything. We're all adults, it's consensual. I think if more people know, colleagues, friends, it would allow the two of us to take things to a whole new level.

I'm proud to be Steve's Domme as well as his wife. He's not like a cliché wimp husband at all. He's in decent shape for his age. He's masculine, intelligent, funny when he wants to be, a people-pleaser. We're just a very good fit, kink-wise and personality-wise. I'm a feminist, but not in that 'female-superior' anti-men type way. If some woman wants to submit to her guy, cool. I believe in gender equality. Passionately. But kink isn't politically correct. I believe a couple who consensually want to live together in inequality are more than entitled to do so. In fact, I think they owe it to themselves to try.

I don't have a favourite kink or priority in our lifestyle. To me everything's bound up together; control, chores, chastity, cuckolding. They're like pieces of a jigsaw that don't make sense until you put them all together. But I'd say that it was only when I started having sex with John that a clear image of my perfect marriage formed in my mind. Suddenly I was a teenager all over again, fantasising about having my sexual cake and eating it. This time for real.

The honest truth is that Steve isn't my best lover, or even close. He thought that we'd hit it off from the start sexually. But we didn't. He did. But I knew what good vanilla sex was. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong, or his dick's small, or he ejaculated early, anything like that. I just think some people, some bodies maybe, mesh better than others. Of course, I didn't say anything. Never. And once we got into the kinky stuff things improved, but our basic fucking didn't. Not that I'm complaining. Overall, things were fine.

I'd never have told him. But once we adopted the lifestyle we now have, I think it's important to be one hundred percent honest. It's not about denigrating Steve. Like I said, I don't see it as his fault at all. It's about being able to tell him the truth about my sexual pleasure. What I want. That I'd had better sex before I met him and that I have better sex with John now. Steve needs to know that and, more to the point, accept it. If I were any old wife, I'd simply put out and put up with my husband's Sunday morning push and shove. And that would be okay. Most couples live like that. But that's not what I really want. And it's certainly not what Steve wants for us.

John is five years younger than me. He's 6' 3", ripped and hung. Everything you'd want a cliché stud to be. He's also successful, married and only interested in sex. I mean, we enjoy each other's company; chat, a laugh, even dine together, but there's no romance. It's dirty, not romantic, sex. There's no S&M, no dominant or submissive partner. I don't want that from a boyfriend. It's just frantic, sweaty sex; loads of positions, oral, even anal, multi-orgasmic.

There's no doubt I'm turned on by the fact we're both married, that it's illicit, lunchtime sex in a hotel bedroom. John's marriage is none of my business. Neither he nor I ever wanted Steve to be present. But I am finally open to the idea of at least having sex with John at my home if he's down for it. I'd like sex in my own bed. I'd like Steve to know he's sleeping in the same sheets I've fucked my boyfriend in. That really turns me on now.

Actually, I am getting into the idea of Steve being present too. It would have to be with another guy. Not with John. Somebody really into the whole cuckolding thing. Although I've only had one lover to date, I certainly intend to have more. I'd like at least two boyfriends at the same time. Not together, but simultaneous. Actually, together could be hot too! A threesome not including my husband? Yeah.

I've always been attracted to older men. I actually lost my virginity to a guy twice my age. Now I like younger guys too. I like age gaps. I love that John is a whole 20 years younger than my husband while there are 15 years between me and Steve. Some friends tease Steve about him being in his fifties with a wife still in her thirties. And they have no damn idea! I feel my forties will be a peak time for me sexually.

I've grown to love Steve's chastity. I love what it does to him. He's a combination of energised and docile; desperate to please me. At first, I thought making him wait a few days, a week, would be enough. But it's not. Once you read up on real chastity, not just kink, such as how some totally chaste monks live in strict monasteries, you realise that permanent chastity is in fact a possibility. A man doesn't actually need to cum. Nor does a woman but, hey, fuck that. It's not a necessity for life like oxygen, water or food. I don't want to keep Steve permanently chaste, anything like that. But I don't want to feel restricted by some timescale of what's reasonable. Yes, I know about prostate health but there are ways round that without proper orgasms.

Ironically I adore our sex life now. Restricting it has improved it. It's mostly about being able to tell Steve exactly what to do. Without any inhibitions. Most couples keep this stuff hidden from each other. Sexual stuff. Sex is usually a compromise. But, for me and Steve, sex isn't a compromise any longer, at all. Not with my husband. It is with my boyfriend. If John goes down on me, I give him head. If John wants anal enough, I make him get me in the mood for it and my butt nice and ready, then I allow him. That's just normal give and take in bed. And there are secret fantasies that I'd still never be able to share with John.

But with Steve I can be as open and selfish as I like. In fact, I've had to train myself to be properly selfish. We're all - especially females – brought up to think about your partner in bed. I was no different. I'd focus on the dude's pleasure way more than my own. So it took a while to get to the place I am now. It's about me. Period. That's why Steve's dick has zero role to play in our bedroom sex any longer. It's a distraction. When I want Steve to go down on me, I just click my fingers. And giving my husband head never enters my head anymore! I kiss his mouth because I love kissing him. That's mostly for my pleasure though, not his. His mouth and hands are all I require to be satisfied.

Once you let yourself go, it's amazing what you discover you enjoy. I'd never peed on anybody in my life. Then, about six months ago, I just thought I'd try it one day. As I said, why have any inhibitions nowadays? I simply told Steve to lie in the bath and I peed on him. The surge of power I felt was wonderful. The next time I did it on his face, in his hair. The third time I told him to open his mouth. He choked and hated it. So it became a useful punishment. A Dominant needs punishments that a sub really doesn't enjoy. Because I don't thrash his butt, I punish Steve in other ways. I piss in his mouth for the slightest error; my strong morning urine, or my asparagus-tinged green piss, my bitter expresso-coffee pee. He does all he can to avoid that so it's a real incentive.

And analingus. Funnily enough, my first husband was really into that. I just couldn't keep his damn tongue out of my virgin asshole! He said I didn't have to reciprocate, he was happy for it to be a one-way street. I secretly quite liked the idea but I always used to be self-conscious about bathroom stuff. I was like, only 21 yrs old. I wanted to have showered beforehand minimum. I didn't know about douches or enemas back then but I'd have probably tried them. It just wasn't my thing. And it still wasn't when I married Steve.

Now things are way different. I don't give a shit ... LOL ... about showering first. I'm not into full scat, and nor is Steve, but there's a huge spectrum between disgusting scat and hospital surgery hygiene levels. There's little I enjoy more than sitting on his face directing traffic. I like to relax, so I purchased us a little folding stool specially manufactured for rimming. I can plonk my full weight down and let my cheeks spread really wide. I want his tongue all the way up where the sun don't shine! I like to use my phone, or watch TV, or even look at porn while Steve licks me. I have a light leather crop I use to tap between his inner thighs whenever his energy flags. When I flick his balls I get a delicious whoosh of air as he groans into my butt. For me, analingus doesn't have to be sexual. I don't always make myself cum. It's more about asserting my dominance. If I'm ripe from the gym, after a day at work, sweaty and unwashed, it's a way of requiring Steve to prove his commitment. If I've spent the afternoon with John, it's even better. I can go on being rimmed for half an hour, longer, until I'm either satisfied or bored. I even pass gas on Steve's face. The first time was an accident. Now I sometimes do it on purpose. It's all an expression of my power. And allows him to prove his submission.

I used to be self conscious about bathroom stuff. I still am, to an extent, even within a marriage. I'm not one of those 'share the bathroom types' with anybody. I like my own privacy. So it seemed only natural to me to deprive Steve of his. When it's only the two of us at home – which is most of the time – he now has to ask me permission to use the bathroom. Sometimes I like to make him wait a while, especially when he's busy doing our household chores. But if I say yes, then he's never allowed to shut the bathroom door, let alone to lock it. He always has to pee sitting down because of his chastity cage. It's too messy for him to pee standing up.

But when he needs to poop at home, he's not allowed to rest his bottom on 'my' toilet seats. We have two bathrooms and I make him mostly use the guests' one downstairs. He asks permission and I'll say, okay. I follow him to the bathroom and lean against the doorframe to watch. He used to get much more embarrassed than he does now, but I can still think up little new ways to amuse myself. Steve's groin has been totally hairless for over a year now. He shaves it twice a week from his snail trail, all the way down to his butt crack, and he keeps his balls plucked. Hairs can snag in a chastity tube but I just prefer him bald down there. Fifty three and he's as cute as a 5 yr old boy!

He removes his shoes and whatever he's wearing below his waist; chinos, jeans, underpants, whatever. His apron if he's wearing one. And I usually make him unbutton his shirt. He lifts the wooden toilet seat so that the white porcelain rim is exposed. Then I watch him carefully place his feet either side of the toilet, knees spread wide, and he lowers his butt to an inch above the rim, until his steel chastity tube dangles just inside the front edge of the pan. He raises his arms and holds his ears, elbows out.

"Eyes forward." I'll say, or something similar. I like him to look at me, right into my eyes. It's an incredibly intimate moment. Some people might think it's kind of gross but for me it's a true expression of our relationship. I control him. It's psychological, not scatological. I can see into Steve's submissive soul as he hovers there, silently asking me for the go-ahead.

I nod and he grimaces his thanks. Just like his sexual releases (when I give him only a short time to masturbate), I like his bathroom visits to be brief and functional too, nothing more. Gone are his days of taking leisurely dumps reading a fucking newspaper on the toilet. If he takes too long, he knows that next time he asks to use the bathroom, I'll make him wait longer. He has to be ready to go straightway. Like within ten, fifteen seconds.

He grimaces, looking at me, blinks, and then let's go. I have strict rules. Full eye contact. His butt never touching the porcelain rim. And silence. No grunts or noisy expulsions of wind, although the diet I keep him on makes that really hard to achieve. He bears down and voids his bowels as efficiently, quickly and quietly as he can. One minute tops. Then I leave him to wipe and clean up.

Of course, our life together isn't all kink. Far from it. I work hard, long hours, and have always made my career my priority. When Steve was employed in his old job, we shared our finances pretty equally, although we've always kept separate bank accounts. I bought the food, the little treats, our vacations, Steve took care of the monthly bills. I ploughed back most of my profits into growing my company. I can now take out a lot more money than Steve ever made. But our lifestyle depends on my success so I don't do anything to risk that. His redundancy has given me more power in our relationship but also more responsibility.

At his request, I have put him on a strict diet and health regime. He's always been in decent shape but there aren't many guys in their fifties who couldn't do to lose a few pounds. I'm particularly strict about things like pasta, sugar and alcohol. He has no desserts, no spirits, almost never wine or beer. He drives us everywhere in the evenings and at weekends so he's on water or soft drinks. If we go out socially with friends, they appreciate it that Steve's basically teetotal nowadays. I'm not a big drinker myself but I enjoy a glass of wine or two most evenings. I enjoy cooking at weekends but he prepares most of my weeknight meals. We dine together but often eat different things; seafood, fish, chicken, rice for me, and plain salads, vegetables, pulses for him.

I'm into my fitness; gym classes, tennis, dance, swimming. The occasional weekend hike. I've put together an exercise program for Steve that's basically jogging alone, weights at home, and things like doing 'the plank' every night before bed. He's lean and toned rather than heavily muscled. His stomach is flat and he's lost 4 inches off his waist since I took over. We weigh him every Sunday and check that his weight stays constant at 175 lbs.

The key to everything is his chastity. As I said, I don't want to feel restricted by some negotiated timescale. I don't let Steve have control by saying 'if you do so-and-so, then you can cum'. Or 'you can cum next week', anything like that. It's more stick than carrot. Unless he's good all the time, then he can't cum. Period. But even if he's perfect, the decision's still up to me. The timing's my choice, not his. It's random. I'm very firm about him not asking for an orgasm, even dropping a hint, or sighing with frustration. That's the surest way for him to earn a punishment and an extra week's delay. I refuse to be topped from the bottom.

I insist that Steve's quietly enthusiastic about my sex life with John too. Not in any pervy or vocal way. He drives me to the hotel. He waits. He gets out and opens the car door for me when I return. He behaves like any professional chauffeur would. Maybe a pleasant smile as he greets me, that's all. No atmosphere. No questions, even if we go straight home afterwards. Three months ago, John and I decided we could stop having protected sex, because we're each other's only extramarital partners. The first time I told Steve to go down on me with John's load inside was another powerful moment in our marriage. He took some 'persuading'. Steve had never fantasised about cuckolding, let alone cream pies. But gradually he's come to accept them. No hesitation. No objections.

As Steve admits, we're both happier now than we've ever been. But we're only part ways on our journey together. I'm not sure how long it will last. I mean I doubt I'll be 60 and he's 75 and we'll still be living like this. Maybe? But I can see another ten years minimum. All of my forties. I have plans!

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Chapter Three

The afternoon sunlight sliced through a gap in the hotel curtains. It created a spotlight on the bed sheets, where Beth and John were coupling. The sun's beam shone directly onto Beth's face, accentuating her beauty; her high cheekbones and parted lips, her turquoise eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Her sweaty, strawberry-blonde hair fell around her on the sheets as she arched her elegant neck, her body dissolving into the shadows of the room.

John hovered above her, his muscular chest also spot-lit by the golden beam, as he eased his glistening cock in and out of Beth's clinging pussy, with deep but slow thrusts. The two had sex with the easy familiarity yet burning passion of regular afternoon lovers. His arms were outstretched, strong hands holding her ankles out, spreading her legs up in a v-shape so he could penetrate her deeply.

His heavily-veined, 9-inch cock carved into her welcoming warmth. He smiled, lowered his head, and they kissed. His tongue invaded her mouth, a hint of herbs and wine mixed with saliva. She sucked him in. In the corner of the darkened room, the remains of their room service lunch lay on its tray, unfinished, interrupted by their more pressing hunger.

John pulled his mouth away from hers and shifted angle, spreading her legs even further apart. She gasped as he opened her up like a peach. Her clit was like the stone of the fruit, hard and ripe for plucking. He felt his balls tightening. He had a good load to give her. Peaches and cream.

Ten minutes later, he got off the bed to go shower. Beth was lying on the rumpled sheets in a post-orgasmic haze. His eyes dwelt momentarily on her curves; her plump tits, perfect hips, the delicious concave valley of her childless abdomen. She had one knee up and her thighs were splayed. His creamy orgasm dripped from her married pussy into the crevice of her buttocks.

"Shower?"

She smiled lazily, shook her head.

"No. I must run. I have calls to make."

She winked at him and added. "Besides, Steve can clean me up later."

John smirked. This arrangement was fucking perfect. A married woman whose husband knew everything. John lived 50 miles away from them. He was a sales director and this was his region. Heck, his employer even paid for his hotel room!

He parted the curtains and peered down into the car park. Her blue BMW was parked in its usual spot. He could just make out the silhouette of an arm by the driver's seat window.

John shrugged. Their kinky shit wasn't his business! If her old man needed somebody else to perform his conjugal duties, well, he was happy to step in.

Beth smoothed her skirt as she walked to her car. Steve hopped out to open the rear door for her. She smiled thinly but didn't thank him, climbing into the back.

"Back to the office." She announced, settling into the leather seat.

She stared at the hotel entrance as they drove past. How many times had she been there now? She knew the faces and names of the reception and room staff. The male employees no longer even gave her those lascivious, knowing looks.

Within a couple of minutes, her car stank of sex. Her panties were in her handbag. She'd left them off for the journey. She parted her thighs wide and hitched her skirt up so her hot pussy could cool off. Already there was a wet smear on the leather seat. She caught Steve's eyes glancing back in the driver's mirror.