Ain't no stopping us now

"I've had enough of this, I want it to stop" John said to me and Kim, as we laid in bed on Saturday morning.

"Do you want it to stop?" I asked Kim.

"Not really, I am having fun," she said.

"Kim doesn't want it to stop," I said to John, patronisingly raising my eyebrows

"Well I do," said John.

"What you want isn't important," I said stepping out of bed.

"You said I could end it any time I wanted," said John.

"I changed my mind," I said, "and when did I give you permission to stop calling me Sir?"

"That's over. It's done," said John

I slapped him hard across the face. His mouth gaped open in shock, as he stood rooted to the spot. So I hit him again, twice in quick succession. 

"On your knees," I said. Still he stood. No words, no resistance.

I grabbed a fistful of hair and forced him onto his knees. "Kiss my feet," I said. He didn't, so I kicked him pretty hard. He didn't comply, so I kicked him again. I waited. Nothing. So I kicked him again and this time he kissed. I would like you to know that I wasn't angry. I was totally calm and was enjoying his resistance. I looked over at Kim. Her hands were raised, covering her mouth. Her eyes wide open.

I walked over to my jacket and pulled out my mobile telephone. I flicked to find what I wanted and placed it next to John's ear, so that he could hear Kim telling me that she loved me. So that he could hear her not being able to say that she loved him. So that he could hear Kim's tacit admission that the children were not his. John started to sob which made me horny. 

I rifled through the drawers to find some belts and stockings. I bound John's hands and feet then joined them together in a hog-tie. I returned to the bed. I could see that Kim was afraid. I took Kim roughly and noisily. After I had finished, I kneeled down and spoke into John's ear. "It's not over until I say it's over," I said. "Think about it but if you resist me there will be consequences."  And after that, left.

***

Now as it turned out, something unrelated happened on Sunday that needs my urgent attention. I am now out of the country until Tuesday, so cannot follow up with John and Kim, and of course Emily, in person until I return. I will, however, be in contact with all of them, to prepare for my return. 

I will be too busy to write, until I return, so hope that this short update doesn't disappoint. As if I cared.

Surprise visit

When I left Kim and John on Saturday morning, I gave no indication as to when I would see them again. I received a number of texts from Kim but did not respond. My availability needs to become unpredictable. Kim has already seen that her husband is not a real man. I am her only source of excitement, strength and, yes, love. Now, I want her to fear losing me. I want her to need me.

I decided to turn up unannounced, yesterday evening, somewhat enticed by the prospect the prospect of meeting Emily. Alas, Emily was not home but Michael was and it was he that answered the door.

"Hello, remember me?" I said, with fake chumminess.

"Unfortunately," said Michael.

"I'm here to see your Mum," I said.

Michael called to Kim, over his shoulder, standing in the hallway with one hand on the door and me standing outside. Kim's face was a priceless look of confusion when she saw me. Michael lingered in the hallway, a mixture of protector and spy.

"Thanks Michael," said Kim, signalling for him to get lost. He lingered. She said it again and he went inside. "This is a bit...errr...unexpected," she said.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, adding quickly, "I thought you might be pleased to see me?"

"No, of course I am," she said, with a sigh. "Come in, come in. It's just a bit awkward with Michael here."

As I followed Kim into the hallway, John came down the stairs.

"I know," I said, "you weren't expecting me." As I spoke, my hands started to roam gently over Kim. " But the problem is that I was thinking about your wife and decided that I needed to fuck her, right now."

"Well, it's a bit awkward because Michael is here and is staying tonight," said John, uneasily.

"That's okay," I said, "we'll just go upstairs and fuck now."

"You can't. Not with Michael here," he said. At last, John was putting up a modicum of resistance.

"Can't," I parroted, "can't! Didn't we agree some rules?"

"Yes," said John, "but not while..."

"There was no 'but while' in the rules, John," I interrupted. He frowned.

I turned to Kim and pulled her into my arms. "I have to go away for a couple of weeks," I lied. I kissed her softly. "I was really hoping we could spend some time together before I go. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes, yes, I would," she said, eyeing John anxiously.

"Let's have a chat alone," I said to John, steering him into the kitchen.

I told John that he had three choices. First, I fuck Kim upstairs, right now. Second, he finds Kim and I an hotel and takes us there. Or third, I tell Michael about what is really going on and leave it for John to deny it. And to make the third option a bit more persuasive, I showed him a little video I have of Kim on my mobile telephone. I left the kitchen and walked into the living room, leaving John to ponder his choices.

"So how are you, " I said to Michael, as I sat down. But my bottom hardly barely touched the seat before John appeared at the door, asking for a word. "Be right there," I said to John. I paused and turned to Michael, as John disappeared. "You know you really look like your mum. But I cannot see your dad in you at all," I said.

"Everyone always sees what they want," said Michael.

"Perhaps," I said, "anyway, good to see you again." He grunted something as I left.

And so John chauffeured Kim and I to a nice small  country hotel. I'd love  know what he told Michael.

***

Kim was a bit uneasy about how she came to be with me last night but she is now needy enough to put that aside. In fact, I felt confident enough to use her pretty roughly. There seems to be a tipping point beyond which bad treatment seems to reinforce  a person's need more than considerate treatment. The old aphorism, 'treat them mean and keep them keen,' is mostly true, although there does need to be some tenderness mixed in as well.

And in case you are wondering, Kim told me that John has been looking for the key that he swallowed but hasn't found it yet.

Cruelty

When I arrived, yesterday evening, it was that Kim answered the door. I had suggested to Kim that she dressed classy but sexy. As I have become accustomed, with her dress sense, she hit the nail on the head. She wore a cream linen two piece suit , the skirt nicely above the knees, a white blouse and deliciously high, cream stilettos. The blouse was pleasingly low-cut and translucent, revealing a lacy push-up brassiere. Her hands were all over me as I stepped inside. My slut was hungry.

I pushed her against the wall and mauled her roughly, my tongue thrust deep into her mouth. This was the way she liked it now, she had told me on Tuesday night. She craves being taken by a real man. A desire reinforced, in my not so humble opinion, by the spectacle of her husband's crumbling masculinity.

"You are such a fucking natural slut," I whispered to her, as I bit her neck.

She made a sound of approval, that sounded something like, "errr....mmmmmmmm!" as she fiddled with my flies.

"I love you like this," I said

"I love being like this," she echoed.

"I do love you," I said.

"And I you," she said without hesitation. 

I smiled and lead her into the living where John, dressed in a dark suit, sat nervously on a chair. "John, do you think that it is right that your mistress should answer the door?" I asked.

"No, I suppose not," he said.

"I suppose not," I parroted in a whiny imitation. "I suppose not?"

I walked into his personal space and put my face inches from his. "You suppose fucking not!" I spat. "Where is the fucking respect?" I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him to the floor. As expected, he showed no resistance. "Shall we fucking start again?" I barked at him, still holding a handful of hair. "Do you think your mistress should have to answer the door?"

"No," said John.

"No fucking what?" I said, pulling his hair tighter.

"No, Sir, it isn't right that my Mistress should answer the door."

I watched Kim's reactions carefully, as we played out this little scene. She was clearly surprised that John just took my apparent venom, without objection. I walked up behind her, reaching around to massage her breasts. I kissed her neck softly and whispered into her ear. "Aren't you surprised at how easily yields?" I said to Kim.

Kim looked over her shoulder at me. "Yes, yes I am, actually. Very surprised" she said.

Still caressing and kissing Kim, I said to John, "did you get the things I told you to?" 

"Yes Sir," he said.

"Well, go get them then," I said, feigning impatience, and off he scuttled.

"What things?" asked Kim.

"You'll see," I said.

John came back with a riding crop and a small cardboard box. I told him to kneel, put down the crop, and show Kim what was in the box. He opened up the box and held it up like an offering. Kim walked towards him and peered into the box. Perplexed, she took the small perspex sculpture out of the box. "No idea," she said, looking at me.

I couldn't help grinning. "Tell her what it is, John," I said.

"It's a chastity device," he said. 

"It's a what?" said Kim, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Show her, how it works John," I said, "and don't forget to call me Sir."

"Yes, Sir," he said, undoing his belt and lowering his trousers. I had told him to practice fitting the device when I last spoke to him alone. His practice paid off and it was in place within seconds.

Now I know what some of you are thinking. A chastity device sounds a bit far-fetched. So here is my challenge. Go to Amazon and search for "chastity device" and see what comes out at the top of the list. Shocked eh? That's how mainstream it is. Better still, type "male chastity device" into Google and you will find that there is a whole industry out there. The device I chose for John is known as a CB-6000 rather than Amazon's security scanner challenging item. And by the way, Amazon also stocks a delightful range of riding crops and even has them in pink! Have a look. Next day delivery guaranteed!

"Keys," I said to John, who handed me the keys to the tiny padlock. I put one key in my pocket and said, "I am a bit careless with things like keys. I tend to lose them" ....dramatic pause...."so you had better have one," I said, handing the other one back to a relieved looking John. "Glass of water please, Kim," I said. I handed the glass of water to John. "Now swallow the key, so you don't lose it," I said with a smirk. 

"But..." began John, but there were no other words.

"Don't make me force you," I said . He swallowed the key and gulped down the water.

I then gave a bit of a speech about how bad John's behaviour had been and handed Kim the crop. It took her a few swipes to get the hang of it but she have gave John half a dozen decent strokes across the buttocks. John squealed pathetically as each one landed. 

When she was finished, I took the crop from Kim. I lashed out hard. Once, twice in rapid succession onto John's buttocks. He yelled in pain, reeling away and rolling onto his side, trying to escape. A third stroke crashed down onto the side of his thigh and the hand that was trying to protect him. As she screamed out, his saucer eyes, looked up at me, with mixture of disbelief and an appeal for mercy. He blew on his bruised hand. My cock hardened. "It's your own fault for moving," I said. 

Then, after a pause, "it's not a little boy's game anymore, John."

***

When John had regained his composure, I reminded him that he had, effectively, agreed to be our servant. Either he could start thinking like a servant, I told him, and anticipate our needs, or I could beat it into him. He looked genuinely scared which I found pleasingly erotic.

But he still wasn't thinking like a servant when he climbed into the driver's seat of his car, to take us to the restaurant. I stood silently on the pavement, holding Kim's hand. Eventually, he realised his mistake and got out to open thee back doors for us. I glared at him and said, "I wont forget. Do better."

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir," he said. Now I know that this sort of response is him just 'playing along' with 'the role'. Or at least that is what he thinks. He was thinking to himself that he would play along and get it over with. But as I have observed before, repeated often enough, it will become his new reality.

John closed the door, got back in and drove us to the restaurant. Kim and I made out loudly in the back. He drove, sneaking looks in the rear-view mirror. John's behaviour was better at the restaurant. He jumped out of the car, smartly, and opened the car doors for us. His good manners continued, opening the restaurant door for us, getting us drinks and sorting out the table. Kim and I had champagne. John had water.

At the table, I let Kim order first and then I followed. When the waiter looked at John, I said, "I'll order for him." I picked the plainest things I could find on the menu. A plain consommé to start and a salad for the main course. I decided to make dinner a relaxed affair, getting John to talk about work and, of course, rugby. Kim talked about the children. I flirted with Kim and touched her often, letting anyone who cared to notice that she was mine. 

Though I thought the small-talk to be a necessary evil, it yielded a little diamond of information. Their daughter, Emily, is at school in Cheltenham. Term ends today and she will be coming home tomorrow. But best of all, she will be having a party, at home next Friday, to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. The whole family will be there, including their son, Michael. It would be rude to miss it.

Between, the main course and desert, I took Kim by the hand and lead her towards the toilets. We disappeared into the generously sized disabled toilets, where I bent her over and  hiked up her skirt. I fucked her good and hard from behind, filling her with a large load that I had been storing up for this occasion. All eyes were on us,  as we walked back into the restaurant, Kim a little dishevelled, with me leaking down her legs.

Back at the table, I said to John, "your wife is such a good fuck, John. When was the last time you had her?"

"I can't remember," said John.

I looked at Kim. "Can you?" I asked her.

"Not really," she said.

"You must have made a big impression," I said to John. Then turning to Kim, "can you remember our first time?"

"Oh, yes," she said grinning at the memory.

"Did John make you feel that good?" I asked

"Never," she said.

I looked John in the eyes. "Never, John, you hear that?" And then after a pause. "And never again."

I decided that we would skip desert and signalled for the bill. When the bill came, I pushed it towards John. "Her husband will pay," I said, leaning over to kiss Kim on the neck. "You can eat your desert at home," I said to John. 

***

John ate his cream pie, like the docile little boy that he is. After that, I shut him out of the bedroom while Kim and I had noisy fun. But I also wanted to talk to Kim alone. Involving John, had been a big shift in gears and I wanted to ensure that she was on board.

I needn't have worried. She admitted that my cruelty towards John had made her horny. At first, she had tried to deny it, thinking her moist reaction to be wrong and perverse. But, she said, that walking back from the toilets in the restaurant, she felt a sense of elation.

"Is it wrong to enjoy being cruel?" she asked semi-rhetorically.

"Not if you do it right," I said.

Submission

Sunday was pretty intense for both John and Kim, so I departed early on Monday morning. I guessed that there would be a lot of emotions flying around and I didn't want to be part of it. I have better things to do with my time than be their social worker. I was pretty confident that they would work things through and, if not, I have plenty of insurance. The only advice I gave to either of then was to Kim. I told her not to tell John what she had seen on his computer.

Kim called me on Tuesday and asked me if I could come around that evening. When I arrived, Kim answered the door and ushered me into the living room where John was sitting on the sofa. Kim sat down beside him. It was Kim that spoke first.

“I told John that I had been seeing you for a while,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, glancing at a nervous looking John.

“John told me that he suspected I was seeing someone and he doesn’t mind,” continued Kim. The after a pause. "He is happy for me to keep seeing you."

I looked at John. “I told Kim about my fantasies,” said John. “I am nervous and I am anxious but I do have this deep need. I always have."

"I understand," I said, in my best therapist voice.

John continued his little speech. "I know Kim really likes you. She’s happier and sexier since she started seeing you. I like that. It's what I want.” I remained silent. “I think you may the person to help us. To teach us,” said John.

"Well, John, " I said, "you have to really sure you want this. It will not be easy for you."

"I know. That's part of the attraction," he said. " I know it's weird but the idea of it being difficult, even forced, turns me on no end . I don't understand it but I have felt this way for as long as I can remember. I am hard now thinking about it."

"Very well but rest assured," I began my lie, "that if you ever decide it's too much for you, we can stop."

"Thanks," said John. "Knowing that helps."

“It will be our secret game,” I said. “But every game has to have rules. Shall I tell you my rules?”

John looked at Kim. "Please, yes please."

"They are pretty simple," I said. "First, I am your superior. You will call me Sir, whenever you interact with me. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said John, looking at Kim.

"Kim will be my slut. You will not be allowed to have any sort sexual interaction with her, without my permission. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said John. Kim had a sheepish half-smile.

"Kim, as my slut, will be your superior," I said. "Even when I am not around you will treat her as such. But don't expect her to bark orders. You need to anticipate her needs. Be helpful, be deferential. An implied instruction is an instruction. Understood?"

"Yes," said John.

"Yes, what?" I said.

"Yes, Sir," said John.

All of the time, I watching Kim's reactions very carefully. She was clearly surprised by John's passivity but the anxiety of Sunday seemed to have gone. Instead she had a quizzical expression, like someone trying to make sense of something she had never encountered before.

"You will try hard to please me, wont you John?" I said

"Yes, yes I will Sir," he said.

"And you will try hard to please Kim?"

"Yes, of course, Sir," said John.

"Kim already knows how to please me," I said, smiling and looking at Kim. "Do you think you should be sitting beside her?"

"No, Sir," he said, standing up. I glared at him and he dropped to his knees. John is such a sad, weak specimen. I think I am going to have to push him quite a long way before he breaks.

I walked to the sofa, gave Kim my hand, guiding her to stand. As I started to touch her, I told John to lick my shoes. He hesitated. I gave him a gentle kick and her started to lick. I kissed Kim and John slurped. One of my hands made its way inside her blouse and the other up her skirt. Wet or dry? I wondered. Readers, she was wet. Very wet indeed. I raised the foot that John wasn't licking and pressed the sole down firmly on his head. There was no resistance.

What fun I am going to have with these two.

Consummation

A mistake that normal people often make is to think that there is something called ‘the truth’. Religions say they have it. Parents ask their children for it. Policemen want it. Politicians go to war over it. The truth is that there is no such thing as the truth. There are only different narratives. Narratives about the past and narratives about the future, all seen through a personal lens of assumptions, values and prejudices. And, take it from me: that’s the truth.

Originally, I wanted to spin together the narratives of John, Kim and myself into one yarn of shared truth. But I couldn't, in my own mind, find a satisfactory way of doing so. I am not good at long-range planning. I am impulsive. I tend to make things up as I go. I get what I want, by telling people what they want to hear, as long as it suits my purpose. But that creativity is in the moment, not in the future. Finding a way to spin a new yarn was nagging away at me.

On Friday, it was a spontaneous decision to suggest to Kim that we wouldn't tell John what we found on his PC. There would be no tears of confrontation, recrimination or angst. Instead there would be a tool that could be used to manipulate John; a weapon if you like. Kim would be inside John’s head, without him knowing it. I was already inside his head.

This train of thought lead me to an insight. I had intended to disappear from John’s cyberlife, when I started to cuckold him for real. On Sunday, I had thought, I would simply be Kim’s new lover, slowly acclimatising John to his future as a cuckold. He would have no idea that I was the person he chatted to and nor would Kim.

But I am impatient and I realised that there was a fast forward button. John and I could share a different narrative to the one that Kim and I shared. And those narratives need never come together.

***

It was just after midday. John was barely in the front door when he first laid eyes on me, sitting in his Living Room.

“John, this is Harry,” said Kim, introducing me to John, “we used to work together at Bart’s. He tracked me down on Facebook.”

“Harry Powell, pleased to meet you,” I said, with a broad, but not too ingratiating, smile. “She’s still as gorgeous as ever, isn't she? You are a lucky man, John.”

“Thanks...” John began. 

Kim interrupted. “Harry has to be at a conference nearby on Monday,” said Kim, hurriedly, “and I said he could stay over. I hope that’s okay?”

“It’s fine,” he said wearily, his brain not quite engaged.

Kim poured us all a generous glass of red wine, before going to the kitchen to prepare lunch, leaving John and I to “get to know each other”. 

This was the plan that Kim and I had agreed upon. What happened next, wasn't. When Kim was out of earshot, I leaned forward in my chair and looked John in the eyes. “The time has come John. I am going to make your dreams come true. I am going to turn you wife into a dominating slut.”

John stared at me open-mouthed.

“And you are going to watch me fuck her, just like the docile little boy that your are... aren’t you John?” I said. 

John’s mouth moved but instead of words, there was just this odd gargling noise. I looked at him, fascinated, as his face contorted and his body twitched.

“Oh come on John,” I continued, “you and I have talked about this enough on Friday nights. We both know it’s what you have dreamed of. But no need to call me Sir in front of Kim. Not just yet.”

I leaned back in my chair, as Kim came into the room. “Everything okay?” she said, with breezy anxiety, looking at John and then at me.

“Couldn't be better,” I said. “It turns out John and I have a lot in common. Isn’t that right John?”

"Great!" said Kim, looking towards John for reassurance.

John looked like a man who had been whacked around the side of the head with a large plank of wood. “Yes, yes we do,” he said through a dissonant daze.

Dinner was a bit awkward but I stuck to the game-plan that I had agreed with Kim, flirting and making mild physical contact whenever the opportunity presented itself. A touch her and touch there. Each time, Kim glanced at John, to see if there was any objection. There wasn't. 

After the meal, we moved from the dining area into the living room. Kim sat down on the sofa. I sat down beside her, after shooting John a ‘don’t you dare’ look. Kim and John had both drunk quite a lot of wine, to calm their respective nerves. I had pretended to drink. 

I initiated a stream of small-talk; something in which I am well practised. Kim was blurting out her words like a machine-gun. John talked like an engine trying to start; bursts of spluttering words, followed by silence, then suddenly spluttering into life again. And while this was going on, I was increasingly touching Kim, who tensed and looked at John every time I did so.

I decided that it was enough of first gear and timid plans. It was time to fast-forward through what I had agreed with Kim. I slid my hard up Kim’s skirt, onto her thigh, and leaned over and wrapped my mouth over hers.

“You don’t mind, do you, John?” I said, as I broke off and looked at him. 

“No....uh...not at all,” he said, the words barely escaping his throat.

“She’s sexy woman isn’t she John?” I said.

“Yes, yes she is,” he said.

“There, I told I didn't think he would mind,” I said, turning back to an open-mouthed and stunned looking Kim. Okay, so I had moved a lot more quickly than we had agreed. But we all knew where this was heading and soon no-one would care about nor remember plan-A.

My hand moved inside her blouse and I whispered into her ear, “tell him to get us some wine.” She gave me a ‘I can’t do that frown’ but I said, “go on, just try it out.” And so she did. John responded by silently going to get the wine. “Venus in Furs,” I whispered into her ear, as my fingers entered her. She may have been anxious but her wetness told its own story.

Kim and I began to make out on the sofa, John staring on silently. Kim kept glancing at him, to gauge his reaction. As we began to fuck, Kim noticed that John was touching himself, through his jeans. “Tell him, he can get it out but not come,” I whispered to Kim. This she did and this he did.

Kim lost herself, her pupils completely dilated, her mouth lolling open, as I fucked her harder and harder, on the sofa, in her living room, in front of her silent masturbating husband. It was quite a scene...for a first time anyway. I studied John as I fucked. Of course, he couldn't help himself when her heard the way that Kim orgasmed, screaming out, without inhibition, as I had taught her. And as she did, I too let myself go and filled her up.

There may have been some discontinuities and puzzles left in the old narratives but that was forgotten. A new narrative had been started.

***

That night, john ‘slept’ in Michael’s room. I took something to ensure that I could go all night without sleeping. Unbeknown to Kim, I slipped some of the same into her drink. Thus we fucked nosily all night, with John in the room next door. 

Picture this

Not only had John bookmarked lots of sites, he had also downloaded lots of images. When I say lots, I mean hundreds. It must have taken him forever. I can only assume that whenever he saw something he liked, he clicked and downloaded it. And being an anally retentive sort, he had considerately catalogued them into albums in Google's Picasa picture management software. Now, Kim was flipping through them, fascinated.

She flicked through them quickly but slowed, tilting her head this way and that, as she looked through an album named 'femdom'. To be frank, I knew this was an ingredient in John's fantasies but I hadn't realised the extent of his interest. The album was subdivided into categories with names like: classic, inter-racial, cruella, amateurs, pro-doms, bondage, pain and water-sports. Kim paused at a picture of a young, slim, leather-clad woman, in impossibly high heels, holding a riding crop and standing over a naked man who appeared to be cowering.

Kim turned to me, frowning. "Is this how he wants me to be?" she asked, with a tone of disbelief.

"In his dreams, maybe," I said. "But you need to overlay these glossy, stylised images onto the conversation he had with that bloke on-line, where he imagines that it is you who is cuckolding and dominating him; not some idealised mannequin. I think what's important is not the actual image but the idea it portrays. Let's look at the amateurs and see if the women are...errr...more normal."

As Kim, continued to flick through the pictures, I stood behind her, kissing her neck. I reached around, fondling her breasts, gently teasing her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. There were more than enough pictures to keep it going for a while. I reached down and found her clitoris, rolling it around with my finger to the rhythm of the mouse click. 

"Stand up for a second," I said, then slid underneath her, sitting down on the chair. I pulled her hips back towards the chair and entered her as she sat down. "Let's look together," I said. And so we did, fucking as we flipped through all of the albums, with me adding a crude commentary of encouragement, suggesting how we might bring the image to our own reality.

Kim was close to orgasm as we started to look at a sub-category of the cuckold album, named 'humiliation'. I don't know whether the pictures had any impact on Kim but she happened to orgasm on a picture of a man, gagged and bound in cage, while two men took a woman from each end. 

***

Kim had to go to work, so she went off to have a shower, while I took the opportunity to download John's address-book onto my memory stick.

***

I came back on Thursday evening and, between fucking in various rooms, some light bondage games and protestations of love, we talked about what we have found. Or rather, I got Kim to talk about her feelings. The essence was that she had a mixture of doubt, anxiety and excitement. She said she felt more alive than she had done for many years and didn't want to go back. But she really wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to involve John. Maybe, we should keep it our secret, she told me, and no risk what we already have.

"I'll tell you what," I said, "we will not even mention what we have seen: the conversations, the websites and the pictures. We'll just do a gentle, low-risk test of  how he reacts to you having a lover, when he gets back on Sunday. We'll do it in such a way, that you only carry on if you are certain that it works for both of you. We'll make sure that there is an escape-hatch that causes no embarrassment to either of you. And if things work out, I don't see any reason why we would ever need to tell him what we found."  I hope you liked the unsubtle use of the word 'we'.

I told Kim my plan and she agreed that it was what we would do. Needless to say, I have no intention of turning back at this point. John deserves what's coming to him, whether he likes it or not. We'll get to 'not' at some point anyway.

***

Friday morning, Kim left me at John's PC, doing my email, while she went to work. The week had exceeded my expectations. Teeing up John's introduction to his new reality was gratifying. But what pleased me the most was that Kim now found it normal to fuck me in her own home and trusted me enough to leave me there alone.

But there was one more bonus yet to come. After Kim had left, I was sitting at John's PC, in John's dressing gown when I heard the front door open. It turned out to be Kim and John's son, Michael, who had come to pick up some clothes.

"Who are you," he asked suspiciously.

"An old friend of your Mum's," I said.

He eyed the dressing gown. "Are you staying here?" he asked.

"I did last night," I said.

"Does dad know?"

"I am sure he does," I said.

This sounds like a cordial exchange, given the circumstances, but I was doing my best to sound contemptuous of his questions. To treat them like an unwelcome distraction from something important. The conversation went on for a little in the same vein, with me bring as obnoxious as I could. I wanted Michael to dislike me and I believe I succeeded. I think the reason is why is obvious but, if not, it will become apparent in due course.

Bring on the geeks

Unsurprisingly, Kim was dressed to please when I arrived, yesterday evening. She was also very keen, to please in other ways and was on her knees, unzipping me, as soon as the door was closed. I did not speak as she got to work.

It was her who spoke first. Looking up at me, she said, "perhaps I should be punished for yesterday?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you really sure that you want to play that game?" I asked.

"I'm sure," she said. No smile, no laugh. Instead, a look of anxious sincerity.

"Okay, just remember that you asked," I said. She nodded.

I took a fistful of hair from the nape of her neck and pulled her up onto her feet. Then, still holding the fist of hair, I guided her up the stairs and into the bedroom. I put her face-down onto the bed and rummaged around in the draws of the dresser, to find some stockings or tights. I secured each wrist with a stocking tied as tightly as practicable. I started to spank her with my hand, carefully gauging her reaction as I did so. She squirmed a bit and her buttocks were reddening but it was still clearly playful.

"Not hard enough for you, slut?" I asked.

"No," she said in a barely a barely audible whisper.

"I can't hear you!" I said. "Do you want it harder? Speak up?"

"Yes," she said. She could hardly get the word out, such was her anxiety.

"Perhaps I should use my belt on you? Do you want that?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" I persisted.

"Yes, I want you to use your belt," she said. I was tempted to press on to get her to say 'please' and 'Sir' but I didn't want to push her too far.

Now, a belt can be a very severe tool, even on someone experienced. I was, therefore,  pretty gentle; though it probably didn't feel that way to Kim. After about a dozen strokes, I was tempted to take her anally; something I hadn't yet done. But, again, intuition told me not to go too far, too quickly. I kissed her neck, her shoulders and then kissed up her arms to her wrists, untying first one and then the other.

As I rolled her over to face me, I could see that her eyes were slightly moist and her face had a faraway look. Though it was a physically mild experience, it had obviously been an emotionally intense experience for Kim. I held her gently and entered her similarly gently. I wanted to be tender but was important to associate the intense emotions, from the spanking, with sex and not something separate. I told her I loved her and made love to her slowly, until she came back from her daydream, when we fucked to a climax. This time it was Kim's turn to say "I love you."

After that we ate, drunk some wine and fucked some more, until it was too late for me to go home.

***

This morning, I asked Kim if I could use her PC, to check my email. She told me that I could use her work laptop but that it was old and very slow. I asked about the large-screened Sony PC I had seen in one of the rooms off of the landing.

"That's John's PC," she said, "but it's password protected. God knows why?"

"Maybe he's got something to hide?" I said, sounding jokey.

"I don't know. He said it's to stop me and the kids from messing it up but I would love to know what he gets up to on a Friday night," said Kim.

"How old is the PC?" I asked.

Kim's expression told me that she thought this an odd question but she answered anyway. "He bought in the January sale," she said. Probably Windows 7 or Vista, at worse, I thought.

Now, I am not technical but I know someone who is. The Geek is a subject who is a partner in a large international management consultancy. Ordinarily, a partner in that sort of firm would have left his technical skills a long way behind, as he moved up the ranks. The Geek, however, manages a practice that specialises in stuff like security and something he calls forensics. He's still an über-geek. Even if he cannot help personally, he has loads of socially inadequate pointy-heads, who work for him, that he can enlist to help me when I need something geeky.

I fancy that tomorrow, Kim will get her wish and find out what John does on a Friday night.

The slow dawn of reality

John told me that he thinks Kim may be having an affair. He says that he has noticed lots of little changes. She is on a diet and goes to the gym regularly. She has bought new clothes and shoes. She is routinely wearing make-up and doing her hair. And to cap it all, he told me, she has started wearing an ankle chain: a public symbol of cuckolding for many married women.

I pointed out that it is very unlikely that Kim appreciates the significance of the ankle chain. This he accepted. That did not, however, prevent me from asking what he felt when he looked at the chain. He said he gets a tight knot in his stomach; a mixture of anxiety and excitement. He says he tries not to notice the chain at mealtimes because he finds it difficult to eat.

Now that reality is upon him, I wanted him reaffirm that he really wants Kim to cuckold him.

"Let's pretend it is true," I told him, "whether it is or not."

"I'm pretty sure it is Sir," he said, "but yes OK."

"And you want this don't you John?" I said. "You need it?"

"Yes. Yes Sir, I do," he said.

"You want your fantasy to come true? To be brought to life? Don't you John?"

"Yes Sir, I do," he said.

"Then here is what you must do," I said.

I told him not to tell Kim with what he thought he knew. Don't do something clumsy like saying, "I think you're having an affair and I don't mind." Instead, I told him that he should be supportive of anything she wants to do from now on. Tell her the new clothes suit her. Tell her how great she looks. Don't question her about her day or how she is feeling. Make her feel good about herself. Tell her how pleased you to see her looking so happy and relaxed.

But don't just do it with your words, I told him. Do what you can to make her life easier. Anticipate chores that need doing and do them. Don't leave them to Kim or wait for Kim to ask you to do them. Prepare for submission but anticipating and doing what she wants, not what you want.

All of this, he agreed, was good common sense. His only concern, he said, was that the person she was seeing would not understand him as well as I did. This was sweet. I reassured him that I still wanted to be the one to have her regularly. I wasn't worried if she fucked someone else first; it would simply mean that the gate would be half open for me. He said he was reassured, the poor, weak, little lamb.

The other thing of interest that came out of the conversation was that Kim will be working at the cafe on Monday, Wednesday and Friday next week. I had planned to meet her for lunch on Monday but now think I will surprise her instead.

Turning the motor

I forgot to mention that I had a bet with John on the outcome of Saturday's rugby. It was a close run thing but the team I picked scraped home. John's forfeit was to deny himself orgasm for a week. Orgasm denial is a powerful tool when dealing with sexually submissive men. It increases the intensity of their sexual desires and hence their submissiveness. Immediately after they have orgasmed, the rational brain kicks in and they can get regretful and guilty about things they have said or done. So denial increases malleability. I believe that John will try to stick to his forfeit but, as I am keeping his sexual brain stimulated, he will fail at least a couple of times. It will interesting to see whether he tells me when he fails.

It was in that context that I spoke to him this morning. Firstly I wanted to see whether the progress we made on Friday evening had stuck. At first, he avoided calling me "Sir" - consciously I suspected. But once he was reminded, he stuck in the groove and repeated his polite request, from Friday, without hesitation..

My other objective this morning was to find out more about his relationship with Kim, in advance of lunch tomorrow. He told me he couldn't remember the last time they had sex; they have just gotten out of the habit and don't make time for it. This could be good or bad news. It is can be good if she is feeling sexually frustrated - I wonder whether she masturbates? But it will bad if she is become completely sexually dormant. If this is the case, it can take time and patience to get the motor running again. Unfortunately, I go away for a week in two week's time. I would hate to start to turn Kim's motor during  the next two week, only to see it cease up with guilt while I am away.

I will try to get her motor purring before I go. I want to have her at least three times, preferably more before I go away. My experience is that three times is the magic number. After the first time there is always guilt. Coming back for a second helping shows that the experience was pleasurable enough to want to repeat it, with guilt held in check. The third time is commitment. The pleasure of the experience outweighs the guilt and the subject wants to experience that pleasure on a regular basis. And then, once it becomes a new normality, I can start to push the boundaries to get what gives me pleasure:  irreversible changes both their lives.

A nice suprise

Whilst wooing his wife, I have been continuing to groom John. I don't want him to react negatively towards Kim when he finds out that I have been fucking her without his knowledge. His reaction doesn't matter to me but it might to Kim. I don't want her retreating because of how John feels and what he says as a consequence. At some point in the future, I will enjoy engineering a situation where she disregards his feelings but that is a little way off.

When we first began to chat, on-line, John liked to hear about my experiences of cuckolding husbands. What was going on, of course, was that he was projecting himself into the stories that I told him. I moved him on to talk about his own fantasies. As he talked, I would interject with my own thoughts and experiences, so it didn't seem too one-sided. Slowly we moved into darker corners, often helped by his propensity to drink a few beers on a Friday evening.

Over the last week, I have increasingly steered him into bringing Kim into the picture. So when he talks about his fantasies, Kim is involved and named. Not a generalised wife, not "her," not "my wife" but "Kim." I want him saying her name and seeing her face. I have also been asking him to describe how he would feel in those imagined, future realities. Similarly, when I tell him things I might do, I use her name and ask him how he would feel about it. When it doesn't seem too contrived, I get him to tell me what he hears and even what he smells and tastes. There is a neurologically thin line between richly imagined scenarios and real memory .

Running out of scenarios doesn't seem to be an issue. We often cover the same general ground. Either John forgets what we have talked about it before, because of  his state of arousal, or he simply enjoys "living" the fantasy afresh each time. This actually helps me because repetition and gradual embellishment of the details, while aroused, serves my purpose very well, neurologically speaking.

So last night, it being Friday, I had a dual purpose. To find out whether Kim had mentioned the incident at the cafe and to move John on just a little. There was was no mention of what happened at the cafe and I wasn't about to ask, so I moved on to indulging his fantasies, with Kim at the centre of it.

 After chatting for a good while, I said, "you really do want me to fuck Kim, don't you John?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, what?" I asked. I wanted to hear him use her name. What came next was a delightfully unexpected bonus.

"Yes I do Sir," he said after a long pause. Up until now he had been deferential, letting me lead our conversations but this was something more. And it was all the more rewarding because I hadn't explicitly requested it.

"Yes you do what, Sir?" I asked.

"I want you to fuck my wife, Sir."

"WHO?" I typed.

"I want you to fuck Kim, Sir."

"And you want this is in reality, not just fantasy, don't you John?" I persisted.

"Yes, I do Sir."

"Then ask me nicely," I said.

"Please fuck Kim, Sir."

"It will be my pleasure John, thank you for asking so nicely."

Now it would be wrong to conclude that he really meant what he said. He had drunk a few beers and probably had his cock in his hand. Not a good state for rational thought. Nonetheless, we had moved forward, particularly with his increased deference to me. From now on, I will insist on being called Sir, regardless of whether he is sober or drunk.

.