Desperate Late Night Followup

My wife read my latest blog.  I like telling her things in conversation, but she and I both like the blog because it’s more personal — I’m totally exposed — and because she thinks the whole thing is really about her.  She said, “Who wouldn’t like a blog about their husband being sexually obsessed with them?”

 She read the blog, and said, “I love this.” 

Does it please you?  “Oh, yes.” 

Are you interested in all of this?  “Oh, definitely.  But…” 

What?  “But…I worry about hurting you and you not telling me.” 

Well, I want to be hurt.  “No, I mean, hurting you too much.  And you not telling me.  Because I want to hurt you a lot.“ 

Will you hurt me as hard as you want if I swear to tell you if you go too far?  “….oh, yes.”

What about the rest of the post?  “I loved it.  I’m surprised you want me to hurt your cock.”

 Does it freak you out?  “No, I didn’t say that.  I just…didn’t know how much you liked that.”

I…do.  “Good.  Because I love it.”

(I’m glowing now.)  “Honey, the thing about being marked?  About me putting my mark on you?”

Yes?  “I definitely want you to wear my mark. A tattoo.  On your back, so I can touch it while I fuck you with my cock.  So when you take your shirt off everybody can see it and I know it makes you mine.  Your left shoulder, I have this thing about the left side.  I’ll stroke it while fucking you.”

Oh…god.  “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?” 

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  “Yes, what?”

Yes…Mistress.  “Good.  I noticed you talking about the tape.  What were you doing while you listened to that?”

Nothing.  I wasn’t doing anything.  “Good, because I didn’t give you permission, did I?

No.  “Do you want permission?”

Yes.  “I can’t hear you…?”

Yes, please, can I come tonight?  “No.  (laughs) Oh, how could I turn you down after that blog post about me?  Yes.  Definitely yes.”

Thank you.  “You know what, honey?”

What?  “I can’t believe it’s only been two months.  Are we going too fast?  Do you think the people reading your blog think we’re diving into this too fast?”

I…don’t care.  It’s right.  “I think that, too.  Go get that claddagh drawn up, and I’ll email you in the morning with a treat.”

In the beginning of the conversation, she’s a normal wife.  By the end, she’s my master.  Oh, shit, I am definitely lost in this.  She owns me.  I’m off to draw my tattoo.