Confessions of a Kinky Wife (3 page)

So my new book arrived and it’s fascinating. I can’t stop reading it.

I mean, I fundamentally disagree with nearly all of what the author thinks about male and female roles; a lot of it’s horrifically sexist, not to mention homophobic, but if you pretend it’s a manual for any dominant person and their lover – instead of traditional heterosexual married couples – it starts to make a bit of sense.

I would die if anyone caught me with it but I just can’t put it down. I’m so conflicted, it’s as if I have an even split down the middle of me. There’s Pip the right-on youth worker and Pip the submissive wifey. Oh, God, I really can’t do this.

I’m going to have to put the book away and forget about it.

It’s just a fantasy.

That’s all.

Oh, bugger.

Dan has found the book.

Everything had been going so well, too. We had the best night last night, and he actually used his new belt on me.

We went out for drinks with friends and were both in a very happy, high, flirty mood all evening. I couldn’t help teasing him and making cheeky little remarks and there came a moment, halfway through the final drink, when he leaned into me and said, right into my ear, ‘My belt’s coming out when I get you home, missy.’

It was ridiculously exciting. I bit my lip and clenched everything in my effort not to squeal. I made puppy-dog eyes at him, as if begging him to reconsider, but I had to tone it down a bit in case people cottoned on.

He laughed and squeezed my knee and said no more about it, but the promise was so heavy in the air that I could barely swallow the last inch of my wine and longed for all the goodbyes to be over with, quickly, so we could get home.

As soon as we were through the door, he had me up against the hall wall, his hand braced above my head, his forehead almost touching mine.

‘Someone’s been begging for a belting,’ he said softly. ‘Haven’t they?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said, coyly over-dramatic, the situation making my face burn.

‘Yes, you do, you minx.’

He held me by my chin and took a fierce kiss from me until I nearly lost the use of my legs and slid down the wall like a person in a cartoon.

‘Go on,’ he said, releasing me. ‘Get those jeans down and bend over the arm of the sofa.’

I stared at him, joyously open-mouthed.

‘Now!’ he ordered.

I scampered off at the double, and, shivering inside, unbuttoned and lowered the jeans. Once they were mussed around my ankles, I bent over the arm of the chair, presenting my bottom in its sensible M&S cotton knickers.

‘That’s it,’ he said approvingly, once he had come out of the bedroom with the belt. ‘You know you need it, don’t you?’

‘Oh,’ I lamented, not quite able to talk the submissive talk, good as I was at bending over.

‘No, come on, I asked you a question, love. Now, what’s the answer? Do you need it, or do you need it?’

I snorted. ‘Both.’

‘Good. Right, I think these might be surplus to requirements.’

He pulled the knickers down.

‘You should have told me to take them off,’ I said, mildly surprised.

‘Are you telling me what to do? As it happens, I like pulling them down. It gives me a nice feeling. Right here.’

He nudged his jean-clad crotch into the lower curve of my bottom. It was hard already. When he pressed it into my pussy, he soaked it in my flowing juices.

‘Point taken,’ I said.

‘Now get that arse nice and high, ready to be kissed by the leather. More than kissed, I’d say. A good, long, full-on snog with tongues.’

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ I said, nervous now. What if it was unbearably painful?

He paused and put a hand on my bottom.

‘You OK?’

I nodded vigorously.

‘Fine, honestly. Just a little … apprehensive.’

‘Yeah, well, you’ll tell me to stop if it gets too much, right?’

‘Go back to being all mean and dominant, Dan. I’ll tell you, I promise.’

‘Right you are. Mean and dominant.’

He put his fist underneath my nose. It had the belt partly wrapped around it, about half of its length trailing away over the side of the sofa.

I took a good deep sniff and my eyes crossed with heavenly lust.

‘You’re getting that,’ he told me. ‘Kiss it. Go on.’

I laid my lips reverently on the supple hide, then watched it disappear from view.

I tensed my buttocks, but all that happened was a light, ticklish sensation as the V-shaped end of the belt dangled between my cheeks.

I twitched.

‘That tickles.’

‘It’ll tickle you some more. Stop tensing up.’

He patted my rump until I unknotted the muscles, cursing him under my breath.

I didn’t hear the belt fly through the air – I’d been hoping for that sexy whipping sound – so when it landed on my bum I was a bit shocked and my hand flew behind me to cover the little patch of sting it had left there.

‘Move your hand,’ commanded Dan, then, when I didn’t, he grabbed my wrist and tucked it under my stomach where it rested on the sofa arm. ‘No more of that or I’ll give you double strokes.’

I waited for the second, and then tried to work out if it was more or less painful than his hand. His hand was heavier and covered more area, but this had a unique viperish quality to it that promised torments to come.

It was deceptive in its lightness, little whispers of pain flicking over my bottom until he started to lay it on more heavily and then I began to rock and gasp. Solid bars of heat fell, one, two, three, then stopped.

I looked over my shoulder. He had put the belt down. Was that it?

‘No,’ he said, in answer to the unspoken question. ‘Just an interlude.’

He spread my thighs and began to rub my clit, gently, not enough to bring me off, but little teasing touches that had me pushing myself on his fingers and moaning for more.

‘Just as wet as ever,’ he said. ‘You want it, don’t you? God, you’re horny as fuck. Sorry, Twink.’

He took his fingers away and I pouted.

‘I’m not finished yet.’

The belt lashed down again and now it made a loud crack every time. I hoped our thin walls were enough to keep the noise from disturbing the neighbours. What on earth would they think we were doing? Would it be obvious? The thought that they knew Dan was giving my arse a good thrashing with his belt got me through six more hard strokes, keeping me soaking wet and ready.

He put the belt down again, just as I was starting to struggle. My breath staggered out in uneven pants and I prepared for more fingering, hoping he would press a bit harder this time.

But no.

It was his tongue, warm and wet, that pushed at my pussy next. He made a seal with his lips around my clit and breathed on it until it felt so hot and swollen I had to wriggle my hips furiously. Then the very tip of his tongue flicked at it, so tantalisingly I wanted to sob.

‘Oh, fuck, please,’ I wheedled. ‘Oh, yes.’

But he wouldn’t give me the pressure I craved. It was like having a feather lightly brushed over my clit, his devilishly unsatisfying combination of breaths and little tongue-tickles. I began to wish he’d get back to strapping me instead.

And so he did, six more firm strokes, and the harder he did it, the more I seemed able to take.

When he dropped the belt again, I was straining and beginning to sweat, but a strange kind of exhilaration made me want more.

Instead, Dan pushed the first couple of inches inside me and held it there until I begged him to fuck me.

‘Do you think you deserve it?’ he said.

‘I deserve it. I’m a bad girl.’

‘Then that means you need more of my belt, doesn’t it?’

‘Ohhh.’ I was delighted, loving every thrust, every stern word that went with it, even though it was more of his cock I really craved.

Obligingly, he pushed further in, but still with a maddening slowness that made me jolt my hips backwards, trying to catch his full length.

Once he was all the way in, I sighed deeply, ready for pleasure. But he thrust three times, then withdrew, and I was still vocalising my outrage when the belt lashed down again.

‘Just to make sure the message is getting through,’ he said, putting his shoulder into six more strokes.

I was struggling now, and he seemed to know it. When he put the belt down, I was right on the verge of tears and pleas. I drew a huge breath of relief and spread my thighs in invitation.

But, once he was inside me, giving me the hard fucking I’d wanted all along, part of me wished he hadn’t stopped. Part of me wished he’d carried on whipping my bum until the tears came and the pleas rained down, and then he’d whipped right through them. Did that make me wrong in the head?

I imagined him doing this while he powered into me from behind, imagined my bottom even sorer, my submission absolute. In the end it was those thoughts, rather than his stout attentions to my pussy, that made me come.

‘I need this,’ I sighed, while he speeded up and got ready to fill me with his spunk. ‘I need it.’

He grabbed my shoulder so hard it nearly dislocated, his orgasm mightier than usual, then lay down beside me, beaded with sweat, his eyes wide with astonishment at what had just overtaken him.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I see. I know.’

It was a lovely afterglow and he seemed so happy to have found his kinky side and had some fun with it.

But I don’t think his reaction to the book will be good. I think that will change the game completely.

He waited until after dinner to bring the subject up. Of course, I couldn’t eat. I was too busy trying to second-guess his reaction, but he was playing things totally straight, being normal Dan, full of stories about his colleagues and complaints about form-filling.

I was washing up in the kitchen when he wandered in, picked up a tea towel as if preparing to dry, and flicked it at my bottom, making me jump and rub at it.

‘Oi!’ I said.

‘What? You like that, don’t you?’

‘Not always. Not when I’m not expecting it.’

‘Oh, so it’s you calling the shots, is it?’ He stood behind me and clasped his arms around me, holding me there with his chin on top of my head. ‘Funny, that.’

‘Why funny?’ I asked guardedly.

‘I thought you were into that whole submissive thing these days.’

I twisted my neck round to look at his eyes. His face was quite grave.

‘You saw that book,’ I said.

‘Yeah, I did. You can’t seriously tell me that, after everything you say and do at work, day after day, you believe all that guff about fixed gender roles and male and female energies?’

‘No, Jesus, no, I don’t!’

‘Well, thank fuck for that. I thought a tornado had taken our flat and transplanted it in Stepford.’

I shook my head. ‘I believe the same things I’ve always believed.’

‘That’s what I thought. You like a bit of kink in the bedroom but you’re still the same person … this book is a bit weird, though. I can’t figure it out.’

I took a deep breath.

‘Look, Dan. The thing is, I like kink. I like to be spanked for fun. But … I think I want something a bit more than that too.’ I put my hand in the washing-up water, which was far too hot, and withdrew it rapidly.

‘Put the Marigolds on,’ he said.

I made a face. I hated putting the Marigolds on. They made my hands smell fusty for hours afterwards.

‘I’ll be all right,’ I said, tipping a handful of cutlery into the bubbles.

‘You’ll scald yourself. Put them on.’

I ignored him, picked up the cloth, plunged my hands quickly into the water and gasped as I withdrew a fork.

‘Jesus, Pip, why? Your hand looks like it’s been skinned. I can’t watch.’

He let go of me and took a step back.

He was right. That water was boiling and my hand throbbed so much I could barely hold the fork. I put it under a stream of cold water, exhaling with sweet relief.

When the burning was soothed, I turned around and leant against the sink, facing him.

‘That sums it up,’ I said. ‘That’s what I mean.’

‘What?’

‘You’re so sensible, Dan, and so capable, and I’m not. I do things like that all the time, and I get frustrated with myself and then I get angry with myself and then … I don’t know. It just boils away in my brain, a great big swamp of self-loathing that keeps getting added to and added to. It’s not good for me.’

‘It’s no big deal, love. Just a silly mistake. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

‘Exactly. I don’t want to be hard on myself. I want
you
to be hard on me.’

My heart pounded, and the palm that had been hot and itchy from the scalding water was now sweating.

‘Like the guys in your book, you mean? You want me to actually … discipline you?’

I nodded vigorously.

‘I want to be held to account. I want to be corrected.’

He laughed, a tad nervously, and looked up at the ceiling.

‘I’m sorry, Pip, I don’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just … uh … unusual. Isn’t it? I’ve spent my whole life trying to be respectful of women, you know …’

‘It’s not about you being a man and me being a woman. It’s nothing to do with that at all. It’s to do with me wanting to submit and having this need. Oh, I don’t know if I’m putting it very well.’

‘So if I wanted you to spank me, that would be fine?’

‘Well, I’d find it hard, because I don’t like dominating, but in principle, yes.’

‘Right. I don’t, by the way. Want you spank me, I mean. I’m not that way inclined.’

He tried a smile. I tried one back. It was encouraging, at least, that he hadn’t walked out of the door with words of a ‘no dice’ variety.

‘I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to,’ I said. ‘It’s just a thought. Just a thing I’ve been pondering. I wanted to find out a bit more about it so I got a book. I’m not demanding anything of you.’

‘You’re not?’

‘No. God, Dan, I’m happy with you. I love you. I don’t want you to change and I’m not some unsatisfied wife eaten up by sexual frustration. Far from it. But I think, for me, this discipline thing would work so well … it’s just a thought. That’s all.’