The Lost Weekend

I flew up north on the redeye and got to the Big Midatlantic City where my wife lives around midnight late Thursday night.  There were half a dozen people on my flight, and they were all intent on getting out of the airport as fast as possible, so nobody noticed my wife and I passionately embracing.  Deep, open-mouthed kisses, an embrace that was tight enough to make me gasp.  I felt loved.  I felt dominated.  I’m a sub, it’s that feeling of closeness and submission that I crave.  Sure, I like getting hit - I fucking love it.  But for me, the submissive part drives the masochism. 

 The ride home was filled with us talking about what’s going on, how our weeks had been, and of course, nasty foreplay.  Every time we got to a red light, she would cradle my face in her hand and then smack me hard with the other.  Alternating sides of the face.  At some point my shirt was unbuttoned and she tore at my nipples, twisting and pulling and pinching.  My nipples are a direct hotwire to my penis, and I was writhing while trying to keep my mind on driving.  Every time I got so horny I suggested we pull over into a darkened park or empty parking lot, she cooled me down, until I was almost calm, and then started over again.  Only at redlights.  I began to crave them, slowing down a bit as intersections approached, hoping to see a yellow light or red light.

 We got to town after an hour and a half, got our daughter, went to bed at the house.  In the morning, we all had breakfast and took the baby to daycare.  When we got back at home, we pulled out the duffel bag I’d brought the toys up in, and realized that I had blown the whole thing: I’d forgotten the keys to the cuffs and shackles, forgotten to buy a shower curtain, forgotten to buy a leash.  We ran out and got a shower curtain, but we live in a rural area, and there’s no scene that we know of, and no place to buy shackles or the kind of leash we want.   I realized that the late dinner at 1 am we’d had was upsetting my stomach.  Nothing bad, just enough to make me feel nervous about pegging.  It’s weird enough to have somebody pouring lube into you and then violating you with a seven-and-a-half-inch strapon, but when you’re feeling nervous, it’s just not cool.  So, no pegging on Friday.

 That’s okay.  We decided to try out the belt.  She made me undress, told me to walk to the other end of the room.  “Get on your damn knees,” she said.  I dropped, bowing my head.  She collared me, then walked toward the bed.  “Crawl to me.”  I started to, and she said, “No, on your hands and knees.”  I get to the bed and start kissing her, but she gets up and says, “Assume the position…”  I’m in heaven, being commanded, feeling her presence coming off her in waves, her eyes stern, her voice strong.  This is my motherfucking princess, you know? 

Blows to the ass.  At first, she’s shy, she doesn’t hurt me much, and neither of us know how to proceed.  “You can do it harder, ma’am,” I say, pleading.  She does.  Stripes of fire decorate my ass.  She rubs my back, and I let her know she can hit that, too.  She does, and it doesn’t hurt as much as the ass does, but it’s nice to be beaten like that.  At this point, she’s sopping.  She says the first thing she’s said since she started whipping me:

“We need to buy a riding crop.  And a whip.”

After that, there was sex, scratching, me getting pissed on as she towered over me.  ”You like that?” she says.  She’s grbbing my collar, and saying “You’re marked.  It doesn’t matter if you wash it off, everybody is going to know you begged for me to piss on you.”  Good sex — the best orgasm of my wife’s life, according to her – and more whipping.  Lots more.  By the afternoon, she was getting good with the belt, and I remember once when she hit me so hard that I couldn’t gasp or cry out — I just kind of choked on the pain, my head swimming.  She moves from cheek to cheek, then hits the center.  She plays a delightful game where I kneel on the bed on my hands and knees, my head bowed, and she stands.  She hits me with the belt, as hard as she can,  and then randomly either strokes me soothingly or hits me even harder.  I don’t know whether to jump at her touch or relax, and she mixes it up to the point where I just don’t know — gentle carresses giving way to brutal blows.  There’s clamps and sex and I’m a human sex toy once while she watches a porno and it’s perfect.

But after the pissing, the collar comes off while she bathes me, and there’s no D/s.  None.  For the rest of the day, she’s top and I’m bottom, but no orders, no stern voice, no steely gaze.  Just goofy happy teen sex.  Okay, most teens don’t have lots of S&M, and my wife is really, really into hurting me.  She says, “I cannot imagine a woman who would not love to have a man sit there and beg to be smacked and spanked and whipped with a belt.  I don’t understand how that’s not sexy.”  I love the pain, but I’m missing the domination, a lot. On our way to dinner, our daughter asleep in the back of the car, I mention it.  “I don’t even know how to say this.  I’m the sub.  But…I really need to submit more.” 

The next day, we spend it with our daughter.  We fool around a bit while she naps, leading to me being flogged in front of the open window.  But still no D/s the way I want it.  I have a fantastic time, but there’s a voice in my head saying, “She really needs to be making us kiss her feet and we should be wearing a collar.”

Finally, our daughter goes to bed that night, and my wife turns to me and says, “Are you ready to get fucked?”  And I realize that the way for us to set the tone for D/s is definitely for her to get the strapon out.  Because the pain is about sex with her — it makes her gooey wet, goofy and happy horny and just into fucking and oral sex.  Like a giggling teen, and we both love it.  But the strapon — it’s about power.  She even says that, stroking the damn thing as I kiss her feet, babbling on the power-trip, “I have a cock.  You’re my bitch.  Get up on your knees, whore.”  She tries to videotape us, eventually tiring of the camera and just banging away at me.  It’s incredible, she pulls my hair, calls me names, whips my back and thighs with the belt as she fucks me.  I am in absolute heaven.  My ass and nipples still hurt from playing the day before, and she tears into them.

She finally flips me over onto my back and has me penetrate her while she’s facing my feet, while banging away at me with the strapon after taking it off.  She’s fascinated by how much I can take, fascinated by the act of her penetrating me.  And the combined feeling of her in my ass with that thing and riding me simultaneously – and she’s more turned on then she’s been all weekend, and she’s been incredibly hot all weekend — sends me into the kind of orgasm I’ve never had before.  It’s all in my prostate, and I come for what seems like ten minutes.  She starts to get up, sees me blissed out, and comes over and holds me. 

“Is that what you were looking for?” She asks as she chews on my ear.  And all I can do is nod.  Next time, the strapon comes out first.