Tease the Bull
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, BiSexual, Cheating, BDSM, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Size, Foot Fetish, Leg Fetish, Workplace,
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Young wife's infatuation with her boss gets her in trouble.
I've destroyed my life. I don't want to sound overly dramatic, but it's true. Oh, the damage hasn't yet set in. But it will, and when it does it will be devastating. And there will be lots of collateral damage. The sad thing is that the damage to me will be relatively light. Yes, my reputation will take a major hit. People will hate me and talk about me behind my back. I will be an object of scorn and derision, and the more moral of my acquaintances and family will shun me. These things I'm ready for. I realize realistically that I put myself in this position so it's only fit that I suffer for my actions. I started the ball rolling and now I have to be a big girl and face the consequences.
What's going to happen, but is so terribly unfair, is that people I love are going to be hurt as well. It hurts me that I will be responsible for that. It especially hurts that I could have kept this from happening in the first place. What disgusts me the most is not that I let this happen, but that, knowing all the above, I will most assuredly let it keep happening. At this point, I realize that I just can't, or truthfully don't want to, help myself. I enjoyed a full meal of the forbidden fruit and I already hunger for more. It's not rational. It's destructive behavior. You don't say you love people and then willingly hurt them with your selfishness. Maybe I'm somehow psychologically damaged, especially considering how much I've changed. Then again, maybe that's just another excuse to let me keep flirting with destroying my reputation and loved ones. At any rate, the truth will come out. As far as I know, only three people know the circumstances at this point. That's two too many. Wasn't it old Ben Franklin that said "Three can keep a secret if two are dead?" That I'm one of those three is no real comfort. There is always the strong likelihood that my own guilt will betray me. So at some point, I will be found out. It's as certain as the next sunrise. And it will probably happen sooner rather than later.
My name is Kyran Hillman Hamilton. The name of my town isn't important, as you've probably never heard of it anyway. Concealing that bit of information will also serve to help protect the innocent. I've lived in this town all my twenty plus years. I was the typical small town girl, nothing above average. Yes, I was always pretty and popular. My dad was a business man and we were not rich, but far from poor. I had the usual friends, the usual social life, and had the usual "crushes." I was athletic, playing softball and basketball, but I didn't let sports consume my life. Strangely enough, I didn't date many jocks. For the most part I found them to be arrogant asses, and I didn't want to be just another notch on a belt. I was a good student, but I wasn't exactly a Rhodes Scholar either.
I was considered a catch. I'm tall at 5' 11" and with a nicely curved figure. I show my Irish blood with long fiery red hair, green eyes, and creamy skin. Yes, I'm what the more irreverent in society today call a "Ginger." It's somewhat annoying if you're concerned about getting a tan, but that's never been on my list of important things. That's why they make sun block. My breasts are not overly large, a "B" cup just slightly over an "A", but I have those puffy, pink aureoles and sensitive nipples that guys like. My waist is slim and my hips are ample, but not overly so. I've got a nicely shaped tush as well, if I do say so myself. I've been told that I've got a dynamite set of legs, and I suppose they are long and well shaped. While I don't have the face of a fashion model, I've been told by both boys and a few girls that I'm beautiful. Some have told me that I vaguely resemble the actress Poppy Montgomery. I'm no virgin, if you're curious, but no slut either. Only two guys had so far made it to the Promised Land. The first of the two was a complete disaster, he didn't know what he was doing, it hurt, and he's history. The last of those two now is my husband.
I met Willis Hamilton at our local community college. I was intending to take a few courses in business that would make me more valuable around my dad's store. Willis was taking photography courses. He was already taking family portraits and shots of kids before he even graduated high school, along with the more artistic shots he took for his hobby. He had a small studio in town with an upstairs apartment and darkroom, the latter since he had learned "old school" film photography. He was accepting the inevitable advance of technology and was learning the digital method of today. Though we had attended the same high school, he had graduated two years ahead of me, so we didn't know each other well. I recognized him, but only acknowledged him with a wave when he said hello in passing.
Willis was slightly taller than me, with a slim but muscular build, brown hair, and a well trimmed beard. He had the cutest set of blue eyes as well. He was no Ashton Kutcher, but kids weren't going to run screaming from him either. Those who knew him said he had an easy, laid back personality and was quick with a joke. I thought he was cute, but he didn't seem to do anything other than notice me, and I've never been one to push myself on a near stranger. The thing that finally endeared him to me, and was the genesis of our relationship, was how cute he looked when he blushed and got embarrassed on the occasion of our initial conversation.
I guess that needs some explaining. I had heard through the grapevine that he was asking about me. He wanted to know whether or not I was dating, among other things. I assumed he was getting up the nerve to ask me out. But Willis had a surprise for me. You see Willis had a class project. It was one of those artsy type things, but the jist of it was that he needed to shoot a nude photo. Imagine my surprise when he approached me in the parking lot at my car to be the model. The poor guy was nearly incoherent at first as he tried to give me the proposition, blushing furiously and stammering.
"Kyran, I'm not talking about anything pornographic here," he rushed to explain, "I want you to understand that it won't require frontal nudity at all. It'll be taken from behind, with your face in profile. You'll hardly be recognizable. And I'm willing to pay you five hundred dollars for modeling this one session."
I was quite frankly flattered and having so much fun with his obvious discomfort that I couldn't resist picking on him a bit, so with all I had I fought back any indication of amusement. I theatrically stomped my foot and balled my hands into fists. With a humorously faked outrage, I verbally sailed into him.
"Willis Hamilton! What kind of a slut do you think I am? You've never said three words to me before today. And now you think you can walk up to me, offer me five hundred bucks, and I'm just going to shed my clothes for you?"
"Oh God, Kyran!" he pleaded, wringing his hands, and blushing yet more profusely, "I meant no disrespect to you. And I certainly wasn't making any moral judgments or implications as to your character. As I said, this is really an art project. I wasn't expecting to see anymore of you than absolutely necessary for the photo. And I assure you, it would have been very tastefully done. I know my request seemed presumptuous and in poor taste to you now. It's just that..."
"Well out with it!" I continued with the feigned assault, although now with a bit more curiosity, "It's just that ... what?"
"The photo's going to be a black and white. With the lighting I have planned, you've got the perfect skin tone. For that reason alone, you're the perfect choice for the model. Well, that reason and one other..."
As he hesitated, he looked down and started shifting gravel around with his shoe. The poor guy looked like he would have rather been standing on the surface of the Sun than going through this conversation.
"And just what would that one other reason be?" I asked him with a hint of a smile.
He hesitated a few seconds before answering. Finally, from somewhere deep inside him he forced out the answer in a near whisper. "Because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."
Okay, hate me if you will for being corny, but my heart just melted. From any other guy, it would have been just that, a corny pick up line. But it was obvious that he meant it. The poor guy had just opened up his chest cavity and handed me his heart. I moved up close to him and placed the palm of my hand on his still red cheek. It was actually warm to the touch.
"I'll do it, but I have two conditions." I said with a smile.
"What would they be?" he asked with a small smile of his own, finally daring to look into my eyes.
"The money would be nice, but I'd feel like a whore, or a porn actress. I'll settle for pizza and a movie instead."
"And the second," he asked with a Cheshire cat grin.
"Kiss me, right now."
He did. And he did it well.
My lone venture into modeling happened that Friday night, and was a smashing success in more ways than one. As per our agreement, we had some delicious cheeseburger pizza, my favorite. So shoot me, I'm not Italian. We snuggled through a nice romantic comedy, and he bought me a box of Junior Mints and a Diet Coke. I was having a great time being with him and he seemed to be equally happy with me. When the end credits rolled, he actually got up the nerve to give me a couple sweet kisses. My heart was beginning to slip into his grasp already as we left to head to the studio.
Despite still being somewhat nervous, he had slipped into artist mode. He knew how he wanted this thing to go. He had it laid out in his mind, just as he had told me. His only other concern was to keep me from being in any way embarrassed. With this in mind, he had me disrobe in his upstairs apartment, and he left a thick white terrycloth robe for me to wear up until and after the shoot.
I must say, I'm no artist, but even I could tell that it was a great photo. As he said, it was taken from behind me, in low light, with an additional light source coming down at an angle from above and to my right. I was in a seated position, on a crushed velvet rug, leaning on my left hand. Both my legs were tucked in beside me, with the soles of both feet pointed back toward the camera. My right arm was pointed upward, my hand reaching out, palm up to the light source. Willis adjusted my face so that I was looking into the light. It looked like a sunrise was washing over me, and the contrast of light and shadow was amazing. It was true, as he had predicted that my skin tone was a factor. Through whatever magic of his profession he had used, my skin had an almost luminescent quality about it. His other prediction was also true. Because of the angle of my face, the position of my right arm, and the way that my hair was arranged, it was not quite readily apparent who I was. As good as the photo looked, that almost saddened me. It was artistic, yet at the same time, erotic. This man had seen this beautiful scene in his mind, with me as the focus of it, long before it had happened. The sheer romance of it all was undeniable.
As you might guess from my earlier allusion, Willis got to see that robe come off. I've got to tell you that this was far from my usual behavior. As, I said, there had been a guy before Will, but I had made him wait a long time before I let myself be talked into trying sex. But with Will, it just seemed right. He had made me feel so sexy and beautiful, like some kind of goddess. Thank God he had that apartment attached to his studio, or I would have probably jumped his bones right there on the floor. He was an incredibly sensitive and gentle lover, and let me say it was a great improvement over my first time. God bless him, he managed to give me two orgasms, one with his tongue and fingers, and one as he rode on top of me. After it was over, he held me so sweetly and thanked me over and over for giving myself to him, telling me how wonderful it was. He kept reassuring me that he didn't think less of me and that he didn't want a one night stand. He wanted a relationship with me. He dropped me off at my home late that night a happy girl.
After that night we were inseparable. We agreed to marry after we had saved up some money so getting started out wouldn't be such a financial burden. The respective in-laws were not a problem. My parents loved Willis immediately. His parents were the salt of the Earth type that loved everybody, so I was an instant hit. Willis was doing a brisk business at his studio, and I was working as much as I could for my dad. We had a place to live right away. The apartment over the studio was actually quite nice and would be plenty big enough until we started a family. A little over a year later we were married, and after a romantic honeymoon spent in a secluded mountain cabin on a wooded lake we settled into married life.
It was a little under two years into our marriage that the cancer began to grow. It wasn't money. We weren't millionaires by any stretch, but then we were more than getting by. We could even afford a few luxuries after the bills and what we saved. No, it was that other nemesis of married couples. It was our sex life.
Now let me say, right off the bat, that it wasn't quantity. We were screwing like bunnies as a matter of fact. I also must say, as confusing as this may sound, that it really wasn't quality either. Willis always went to great pains to make sure I enjoyed the ride if you will. He wasn't inadequate as a man, in fact he was bigger than average, and he wasn't a premature ejaculator. So what was I bitching about you ask?
Willis was a romantic. He was gentle and considerate, as I've said, sometimes to a fault. The sex was already getting vanilla. It was starting to get, at least to me, repetitive. To be quite frank about it, we needed to get our kink on. Mind you, I wasn't advocating joining a swingers' club. I didn't want to tie my husband up and make him watch while I banged some stranger. I certainly didn't want to share him with some cute chick, even if he agreed to do so, which would have caused me to die from shock.
I did the usual things. I bought scandalous lingerie. I wore racier underwear, sometimes no underwear at all. I did away with my usual pantyhose altogether in favor of garter belts and stockings. The few pairs of pantyhose I kept around were special. They had a low cut French waist and were crotchless. With them, I could wear a shorter hemline without showing a stocking top. Business did pick up, especially when I wore these items to bed. Will also approved of my newly shaved cunt. We got a book on different sex positions. We went so far as to try some light bondage. These things worked to a degree, but I still felt like pushing things a bit further.
I tried introducing the idea of maybe watching a little porn together. Will didn't really like the idea and it actually worked against me. It made him uncomfortable and ruined the mood. I pushed things into the area of role play. Will valiantly gave it a go, but it was a mixed success at best. As hard as he tried I could tell that his heart really wasn't in it. One memorable evening, I pushed the whole role play thing over the edge, and I found out just how much I was up against with this guy.
The dust up was over Carrie Wilson. Carrie was a blonde, bubbly girl who was currently attending the same community college classes that Will had attended. You see, Will on occasion had to do some traveling around to the county schools. The class pictures and yearbook photos that he took on these days, along with the packets of pictures that the kids took home for their family every year, were a very lucrative side line. The small bit of travel required hardly ever resulted in any overnight stays. The problem was, of course, that his absence left the studio unmanned. Even if I had been unemployed it wouldn't have been much help. I was clueless about photography. So Will had approached his former professor about anyone interested in a job at his studio, part time. The professor gave Carrie the nod with great enthusiasm. She was equally enthusiastic at getting a chance to make a little extra money while honing her own craft. It was a win-win all around.
I would have been much less enthused if I had not trusted Will with my life. Carrie was a knockout. She was petite, barely over five feet, but her slim, shapely legs looked a lot longer than they were. She had an impressive set of boobs for a girl her size and she definitely filled out the seat of her jeans well. She had hair so blonde it was the color of corn silk, and it was long, straight, and thick. Her skin was tanned, and her eyes were crystal blue. She wore hardly any makeup on her stunning face, Hell it would have been superfluous. She was a head turner to say the least. I was as straight as they come and I would have damn near slept with her.
Her personality was, everybody said, her best feature. The girl was so sweet, it almost made a cynic nauseous. She seemed unaware of her beauty, making self deprecating comments when anyone brought it up. It was widely known that she lived under a pretty strict moral code, although she wasn't "holier than thou" by any stretch of the imagination. She had an active social life and lots of friends, male and female, but nobody seemed to be on the inside track. One of her best assets, which Will was quite delighted with, was her ability with children. They universally loved her. Will photographed a lot of them, and they could be a handful, babies especially. Will was good with them mind you. As a matter of fact, I often jokingly referred to him as the "Baby Whisperer" after seeing him in action a few times. Carrie surpassed even him. Sometimes even when he was in the studio he would call her in if he had a heavy load of small children scheduled.
On the memorable evening I've referenced, we were feeling a bit amorous, due in part to a large bottle of wine. As I said, my motor was running, and when things took a decidedly hot turn I decided I might throw a little gasoline on the fire. I seductively whispered in Will's ear that maybe he might like to let me stand in for the role of Carrie tonight. The reaction was both immediate and unsuspected. It was also intense. I felt his whole body tense up as he suddenly jumped up from the sofa beside me.
"Kyran, that's about enough." Will hissed through clenched teeth, "If I wanted to be with Carrie Wilson, she'd be here and not you. You're my wife, not her. I love you, not her. For some damned reason that I can't figure out, you want to bring other people into our bed, at least in your mind. That makes me uneasy. In my mind, when a person gets comfortable with mental adultery, the physical kind soon follows. Also keep this in mind. I have a working relationship with Carrie. If I allow those kinds of feelings to start taking root, they're going to affect that relationship. She's a perceptive girl, and she'll pick up on it. It will either make her uncomfortable, and she'll quit, or she'll be encouraged, which is worse. What if she started coming on to me, God forbid, and it somehow negatively affected our marriage? It's you and me, or it's nothing at all. Why in God's name am I not enough for you now? What is supposed to be the attraction for you in me pretending you're someone else?"
I was floored and frustrated, but I quickly recovered. I managed to get him cooled down, but I realized that persisting in this vein was getting dangerous. I decided that advice should be sought, since I just kept fouling things up. So I brought the matter before the council of my closest female friends, whose discretion could be counted on. A couple of them jokingly suggested a lover, but they were doing just that, joking. Their advice was varied, from trying trips to different romantic settings, to other well intentioned fire starters. To one thing there was a general consensus. They one and all agreed that I was nuts. The lecture I got from Julie, my lifelong best friend, could serve as a general template for all the others.
"Kyran, I've got to say that you're really not making a lot of sense here." She said as she held my hands. "You've got a great husband. He's cute. He doesn't abuse drugs or alcohol. He doesn't gamble. He works hard and brings the money home to you. On the other hand, he's not so wrapped up in work that he neglects you. Far from being abusive, he's always worshipped the ground you walk on. You've told us all how he's always so romantic, always doing things to let you know he loves you. For Christ's sake woman, you've admitted yourself that he's even good in bed. I've got to admit that, sorry kid, I'm pretty much like Willis on this one. I'm wondering just what the hell it is you want the guy to do, beyond what he's doing already. Ninety nine women in this town out of a hundred would run you down in a heartbeat to be in your shoes. Trust me girlfriend, if you do something stupid and let that man slip through your fingers, he won't fall very far. Hell, your replacement could be working right beside him in that studio as we speak!"
Needless to say, that got my attention. After a few doses of this same general medicine, I started feeling like a bit of a bitch. I had pretty good success from that point on in being satisfied. The old feelings would surface from time to time, but I'd fight them down and all would return to normalcy eventually. Of course Fate soon decided to be a bitch herself and test me further.
My dad had decided the time had come to hang up his hat in the business world. He wanted to retire while he and mom had the health and the good years left to enjoy some relaxation and travel. While I was happy for him, it did present a problem. It was going to leave me unemployed. Fortunately I was not without marketable skills. My next job opportunity presented itself in short order. A local business executive was in need of an assistant. The job involved mostly "gofer" work, some light secretarial duties, and help in arranging travel and hotel reservations. My dad, while not a personal friend, at least had some passing acquaintance with the gentleman, Mr. John Thomas. If my sterling resume failed to get me the interview, then a word from dear old dad must have. In a few weeks time I had a new job with the added advantage of a higher salary and a nice benefits package.
I liked my new employer. John Thomas was an astute businessman, but he wasn't cut from the usual corporate cloth. He wore his individuality like a badge of honor. Oh, he dressed the part, to be sure. He rocked the expensive suit, silk tie, and Italian leather dress boots with best of them. He favored dark colors, black, blue, and charcoal gray. There the resemblance to the rest of the herd ended. First of all, he was a big man. He was well over six feet tall and solidly built, with big hands. He was obviously no stranger to the weight room. Ruggedly handsome, he shaved his head, had dark brown eyes, and wore a well trimmed dark brown goatee, flecked with highlights of blond. His left ear was pierced with a brilliant diamond stud. He looked like Wall Street had collided with Sturgis at Bike Week. As a matter of fact, one of his favorite toys was a big Harley cruiser that he liked to ride on weekend excursions. He was still in his late thirties.
Like most big men, he was gentle and soft spoken for the most part. That being said, all but the blind could tell there was a storm brewing just under the surface, waiting for the right circumstances to set it off. Wise people did not trifle with John Thomas. He was an excellent employer. Although not overly friendly, he wasn't a stuffed shirt either, and he would joke freely with both me and Sally Fielding, his secretary/receptionist. Sally was a cute little brown eyed brunette with an impressive rack and legs that could give mine a run for the money. She wore her hemline conservatively, but she looked like she had been poured into her skirt and her cleavage challenged decorum to the limit. She was one of those women who gave the impression they were flirting with you, whether they were or not. With Sally this was not gender specific either. I often felt like she was undressing me with her eyes but I didn't make much of it. Like me, she was married, although I had no idea what her husband did for a living. At any rate, her work station was just outside the suite where John and I worked and I didn't see her a great deal during the day.
The aforementioned suite was impressive. The two walls at the corner were floor to ceiling glass. John's big desk sat right in front of the view. He could face his desk or swivel around and stare out the window as he desired. My desk and computer were several yards in front of him, though my desk faced the door. The floor of the suite was richly carpeted, the walls were impressively paneled, and the furnishings were obviously expensive. Oak and rich leather were everywhere and the air was always slightly scented with the smell of the vanilla flavored tobacco John smoked in his briar pipe. I noted that he had a different one for each day. He also kept a couple crystal decanters of Scotch and Bourbon on an oak bar which had an installed icemaker. Each of the decanters flanked a cut glass jar of his custom blended tobacco. The suite even had an attached bedroom and bath with a generous closet in the event that John wished to work late and just stay for the night rather than drive home.
Things at work and at home took on a usual pattern. At both places, of course, there were the usual annoyances but nothing beyond fixing relatively easy. Will and I had even started talking about becoming parents. I now had good medical insurance, and with our respective moms, two baby sitters built in. We decided to give it about two years to ensure that my job was secure and that there were no problems we had not considered. The thing that made me uneasy was the nagging, restless, lack of complete satisfaction in our marital bed that continued to crop up on a limited basis. I just decided to deal with it in the same fashion as I had up to this point. Surely, I reasoned, it would all work out. Love does, after all, conquer everything in the end does it not?
My downfall began soon after, one cool but sunny Friday afternoon. My king sized employer had decided to spend the weekend riding his bike, and planned to knock off at the noon hour to start the trip. He had actually rode to work that morning, changed into his suit and tie, and was going to return to denim and leather when he left for the day. He came out of his bedroom appropriately attired, black leather jacket thrown over his shoulder, and leaned back against the front of his desk to make a call on the office phone. I couldn't help but notice the difference in him. He was wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt with the logo of his favorite band, Motorhead, depicted on the front. The tattoos were now visible on his muscular arms. The diamond in his ear had given way to a silver stud. The boots were also changed to heavy black riding boots. It was the faded skin tight jeans that proved to be the real source of interest.
Like a moth drawn irresistibly to a flickering flame, my eyes locked onto his crotch and upper thigh. There was a very prominent bulge. It was apparent, especially from the length of the bulge along his thigh, that one of two things was true. Either John Thomas had a banana in his pocket, or he was packing some serious equipment. I had a strong suspicion that the latter was more likely the case. Blushing furiously, I finally managed to avert my gaze and tried to get my mind back on my duties. As if!
After John had finally left the office, my mind started doing its devious best to prevent a return to business. The inevitable questions began in my mind. Just how long was it? How big around? What would it look like? What would it feel like? Before long I found myself in the restroom, with my fingers attacking the small swamp that had appeared between my legs. That held me until I got home, whereupon I proceeded to practically rape my husband. Will received a very pleasurable weekend out of the whole thing, although I was just a trifle guilty that in my mind it was John who was doing me the honors.
It goes without saying that things changed Monday morning. I would catch myself looking at the big guy a lot more often, and certainly in a new light. When he was in his suit pants, his bulge wasn't as noticeable due to the fuller cut, and I found this a mixed blessing. Of course, the little glances were clandestine. I couldn't let this thing become obvious. This, in turn, led to a new and heretofore unnoticed discovery. Since I was paying him more attention, I saw what I had probably failed to notice before. John was also looking at me.
It started with a mere glimpse in his direction, out of the corner of my eye. I noticed his gaze fixed in my direction. I was sitting at my chair, in front of my desk, sitting slightly sideways. I was wearing a skirt and my legs were crossed at the knee, the shoe on my right foot dangling down. John was scoping out my legs and quite possibly my foot as well. To mischievously test more fully the source of his interest, I began moving my foot up and down and in a slight circle. Oh yeah, I could see his eyes lock in on my foot in its orbit.
"Why that big kinky devil," the thought ran through my mind, "he's a leg man. But it seems he's got a bit of a foot fetish as well."
I had educated myself fairly thoroughly on a few of these things. You remember I was trying to find reasonable ways to light Will's fire. I had read that this was actually one of the most prevalent fetishes in men. At that point, it suddenly dawned on me the naughty things John was probably imagining doing to that foot, along with the rest of me quite probably. My whole body was tingling with excitement at that knowledge. My pussy was getting nice and moist and my nipples were standing up like pencil erasers. The whole day went this way. Mixed in with my work, I would casually cross and uncross my legs. I would dangle my shoe enticingly from my foot, then set my foot back on the floor and hide it once again in the shoe. Once, I "accidentally" dropped the shoe off my foot altogether. Then of course, I had to find it again with my toes and slide it back on. This whole performance was not lost on the man sitting across the office.
In the past, I would have been blissfully unaware of his interest. But now, things were different. I was watching him more closely, and in a different way. Of course there was the added factor that this was not an innocent thing on my part. I was actively courting the big guy's notice. Still, I had to respect him for his self control. He wasn't ogling me. He was doing his level best to appear uninterested. But I noted with amusement, and not a small amount of horniness, that it was a battle he was losing. The resulting sense of control, of dominance over the big man, coupled with my naughty fantasies about his big package had me running at full steam. I took that mental cauldron of forbidden stimulation home to my hubby that evening and dumped it on him, much to our mutual delight.
All it took was some gentle manipulation of my husband's good nature to introduce the new fantasy into our sex life. Of course, I had to let him remain in the dark as to just exactly why it happened, for obvious reasons. I was still in my office clothing when we ate our evening meal, with the exception of my jacket. When we had finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, we headed to the big sofa in the living room to relax with a glass of wine. I had an idea that might possibly work.
It was so simple. All I had to do was tell Will that my feet were hurting. He acted just as I suspected he might. In less time than it takes to tell I was stretched out the length of the sofa with my feet in Will's lap getting a foot rub. Before long, I was rubbing the other foot into Will's crotch. One thing led to another and we wound up naked, though I left on my stockings and garter belt. Will and I were reclining, facing one another, our heads resting on the opposite cushioned armrests. He was still gently massaging my right foot and it felt heavenly. It was at that point that I took the sole of my other foot and began to slowly and gently slide it up and down the length of my husband's hard cock.
"My God, Kyran," he whispered as his eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling, "that feels wonderful. Please, I beg you, don't stop."
"Oh, you like that do you?" I teased, "Well, I'll keep going But it's going to cost you..."
"Anything Baby," he moaned lustily, "I'll do anything for this. I've never felt anything like it. My God, that feels like nothing I've ever felt before."
"So you like my feet do you," I asked in my sexiest whisper, "Well I want you to prove it to me. Take that foot you're massaging. I want you to kiss it. You have to do a good job now. I want it kissed all up and down. Each little toe too. Kiss and lick all up and down. Worship it for me. If you're a good foot slave for me, I'll give you an extra special treat. But if you don't, I'll have to stop what I'm doing for you. Now you don't want that do you?"
"God no, Baby," he pleaded, "Just tell me if I'm not doing it right and I'll do better."
It was so amazing watching my straight laced husband kissing, licking, and nibbling away at my nylon covered foot, while his hands rubbed up and down my leg. It was even more amazing that he was quite obviously enjoying doing so. He even managed to push his tongue in between the toes, despite the nylon covering. It was such a turn on that I began teasing my nipples with the fingers of one hand while I stroked the wet slit of my pussy with the fingers of the other. Of course, I probably don't need to tell you that, before too long, in my mind it was John Thomas on the other end of that couch.
After bringing myself to a mind blowing orgasm. I finally decided to reward my little slave. Taking my foot from his face I brought it down to his crotch along with my other foot. I turned the soles of my feet sideways and captured his hard cock between the arches. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed I began sliding my feet up and down. Will loved it, all the while moaning and bucking his hips. It was probably just a few minutes before he suddenly gave a strangled cry and arched his back as thick spurts of semen shot out of the head of his cock.
"Merciful Heavens, girl," he exclaimed a few moments later as he cleaned up his abdomen and my feet and legs with a wet cloth. "That was absolutely fantastic. Was it fun for you too?"
"You betcha it was," I giggled, "You make an awfully good foot slave. Just wait 'til I tell all our friends how you like to worship my smelly feet."
"Kyran," he gasped, "You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh really?" I teased, "I think you know me better than that. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement in exchange for my silence. Maybe we can put this into regular use in the rotation if you get my drift. Of course, I won't abuse the power I have over you too much."
"Gladly my Gaelic Queen," he teased as he kissed the top of each foot lovingly, "and by the way, your pretty little feet are not at all 'smelly', thank you very much."
"I notice you're still 'standing at attention' dear hubby," I said casually, "I've got a warm, wet place for that if you're interested."
"Actually darlin' I can think of two warm, wet places on you that might fit that description." he said with a leer.
"Oh, so that's the way of it, is it?" I laughed, "Feeling frisky tonight are you? Very well then, but if you get my mouth, then it's only fair that I get to ride that beard. Then we'll see if you can take care of that second warm, wet place."
The night was such a smashing success! Will had questions obviously. Where had I come up with that kind of naughty idea, he wondered? I simply told him the slightly modified truth. I was simply reading some erotic research material in an effort to keep things hot between us. And although there was some deception involved overall, I felt it was justified. My fantasies about John were just that, fantasies. As long as I never acted on them, no harm, no foul. I came home to my Will all fired up, enjoyed the naughty aspect of it, and we both were satisfied. In fact, Will got to the point that he would get a very firm erection in the morning when he watched me put on my stockings or pantyhose. I would tease him unmercifully, allowing him to briefly worship my feet, then tell him he couldn't have his "special treat" until that evening. By the time we got together at night we were as hot as a ten dollar pistol.
As for Mr. John Thomas, I knew I had to be careful in my daily torture sessions. There was, obviously, a line I could not cross. While, as I mentioned, John would joke somewhat with me and also Sally, there was no sexual banter. He was pretty much all business in that office. That did not mean I could not escalate the campaign as needed. If I sensed things were getting out of hand I would just back it down a notch or two for awhile and all would be well. I had to keep him interested in my little game. I was getting off on the "dominance" I had over him. I knew that on some level it was frustrating him and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. However, I assumed he had a lover or lovers, so I wasn't exactly being cruel. He was just going to have to vent in the evenings, with someone else being the recipient, as was I.
My workday became so much fun I should have been paying John. My flirting was subtle, but intent. Before I walked into the office, I would stop at the lowest level restroom in the building. I would roll up my skirt waist a tad, so I could show a little more thigh. I would give him a button or two more cleavage. On occasion, I took to shedding my shoes altogether in the suite, parking them in front or to the side of the leg well of my desk. One memorable day, I went so far as to show him a little trace of stocking top as I did so. His eyes nearly popped out of his head for a split second before he recovered. On a few very rare occasions I would "accidentally" brush my breasts against his arm lightly.
At no time did any of this nonsense become verbal. I never said one word that could be misconstrued. I still avoided being caught looking at him, seemingly unaware that I was doing anything out of the ordinary. John, for his part, tried valiantly to do the same. But he was not always successful, much to my delight. I made the most of it. I was constantly horny as hell now. I nearly killed poor Will, but the poor fellow managed to keep up with me. The bad times were the weekends and the days when John went away on business trips. Even then I could manage to keep going fairly strong on memory alone, until I could get a fresh dose of my new "drug." I congratulated myself on finally solving the niggling little problem that had pecked away at my marriage as the weeks rolled on.
It was nearly a month later. It was Monday morning, and John had been out all the last week on a business trip. It had been nine days since I was exposed to the "drug" and I was feeling frustrated as hell. I chose my wardrobe accordingly that morning. The dress was a soft, sleeveless, black and gray print in one piece. It wasn't filmy or exceedingly flimsy so I decided with a hot flush to forgo a bra. I had a great pair of those wicked crotchless pantyhose in just the right shade for the dress, a silvery gray. I decided to forgo panties, of course, since about the only time I wore them anymore was when "Aunt Flow" was in town. A light silver necklace with a single diamond pendant and matching earrings went next, and I finished off the look with a pair of black pumps. I wouldn't be overwhelming him this morning. But the hem of that dress was high enough that he was going to catch considerable hell once I sat down, without me looking like a slut. My legs weren't the only thing that was going to catch his attention. The pantyhose had vintage reinforcements along the toe, heel, and sole area. These areas were still sheer enough to let him see my toes if I wiggled them for him, as I often liked to do. Yes, before an hour of the office day had elapsed, I intended to have John squirming.
"He's already in this morning." Sally announced softly, as I entered her little domain. "He's his usual yummy self."
She gave me a knowing little leering smile.
"What the Hell." I thought to myself, "I can't believe she just said that. He'd probably boot her cute little possibly bisexual ass out of here in a heartbeat if he heard that."
John was sitting at his desk when I went in. He looked up, smiled and greeted me, and gave me a quick rundown on his past week as I filled his coffee cup and mine.
I had gone into my duties and was soon caught up to the point where I could begin having a little fun. I decided to start things off right. Today was going to be a shoeless day. Of course, I was going to make a pretty good production about removing them. Even though I'd only worn them a brief while, it would feel soooo very good. This would, of course, require a great deal of flexing of my feet and the wiggling of my toes. My sidewise glance at John was quite fulfilling when I reached the zenith of the show. He was quite obviously enjoying the view. I had returned my gaze to the paperwork on my desk. In my mind however, I had him helpless on his back, tickling the head of his large manhood with my nylon covered toes as he begged me to give him some relief. My entire center seemed to go warm as I felt that familiar wetness begin in my freshly shaved pussy. Clenching my thighs together sent an electric tingling through me. I had to calm down a bit. I was going to mess around and have an orgasm right here at the desk. That certainly wouldn't do!
My fantasy was interrupted by John's voice as he keyed the intercom.
"Mrs. Fielding," he cheerfully requested, "Would you be so kind as to hold all my calls for the next little bit. Also, make sure that I'm not interrupted for anything short of a fire in the building."
"Yes Mr. Thomas." I heard her cute little reply, "Your wish is my command."
"Mrs. Hamilton, could I ask for your help with something?" he asked with a strange look on his face.
"Why certainly John." I answered hesitantly, catching a little late the sudden formality around here.
"I don't want to make you at all uncomfortable." he said as he strode toward the other room, "There's something back here I've just got to show you."
It was a strange request. I'd only been back in that area a few times, and never with him. But then the whole morning had been strange. There had been Sally's unusual remark this morning. As I had already mentioned, there was the weird formality to both Sally and myself. It all had me just a bit dazed. So without even thinking I just stood up and preceded him into the room.
It was then that I noticed something definitely out of order. As I stood beside the bed, John looming behind me, I noticed four black leather restraints. One was coming from each corner of the bed attached to black nylon rope. Before I could even react, in the sluggish state I was in that morning, John had swept down the zipper at the back of my dress and slid it over my shoulders. Before it even had time to settle around my ankles, he had flipped me upward onto the bed and started putting the restraints on my wrists.
Bewildered, ashamed, and blushing furiously, I made a vain attempt to get free and cover my exposed body. In no time flat I was bound, hand and foot on my back, legs spread wide. He had stuffed two large pillows under my neck and upper back so that my head was inclined. I noted that my feet were elevated as well.
"John please let me go." I looked up at him pleading. "I'm a married woman; you shouldn't be doing this to me."
"You're a married woman?" he looked down on me with a nasty little chuckle, "Why didn't you remember that while you've been teasing the hell out of me all this time?"
I was speechless for a moment, looking up in shock as he pressed on.
"You think I didn't see you watching me? Do you really believe that I was dumb enough to buy that all those things you were suddenly doing were a coincidence? Your dresses were suddenly getting shorter, showing me all that leg everyday. All that damn shoe play that was driving me up the wall too. And you knew it was getting to me when you'd wiggle your sexy little feet and toes around as well. Hell, you even brushed your tits on my arms a few times."
"John, I'm so sorry." I tried desperately to plead with him again, "I don't know what got into me. It was just some silly teasing and I let it get out of hand. I never meant for things to go this far though. Turn me loose and nobody will know. I'll quit my job if you want."
"Oh, I know what got into you, or rather what's going to get into you." He replied softly as he slowly admired my body. "You ever hear that old saying, 'You mess with the bull, you get the horns?' Well Kyran, you teased the bull, now you're going to get the horn."
John began leisurely removing his clothing. In less time than I could have believed, he had stripped to his skin, placing his clothing neatly on the chair beside the bed. When he turned around and faced me I took a quick involuntary breath.
His body was tanned, well muscled, and heavily tattooed. He even had the six pack abs that men work out so hard to achieve. As scared and humiliated as I was, I couldn't help but look to that piece of flesh that had engineered my downfall. It was already proudly erect. It had to have been nearly ten inches long with a slight upward curve. It was at least three inches longer than my husband's and considerably thicker as well. It was heavily veined with a large reddish purple head. His testicles were equally large. It was no real surprise that he had no hair anywhere on his body.
"John, for God's sake stop this." I cried out as I once again tried to back this fantasy, turned nightmare around, "I'll scream. Sally will hear me. I'll tell everyone who'll listen that you raped me. You'll go to jail. Just let me go home to my husband and all this will just go away."
"Got it all figured out don't you." He smiled triumphantly, "Actually, there are a few holes in your plan. First of all, I wouldn't count on sweet little Sally out there. Who do you think has been relieving all the stress you've been building up? Her old man's a long haul trucker and he just isn't around enough for a wild little unit like her. Hell, it was actually her that talked me into dealing you out some much deserved payback. Of course, the fact that she's batting for both teams might have a lot to do with her thinking. She's probably thinking with you tied up, she might get to come in and play a little herself."
"Now as for telling everybody, that would be a really bad move. You're thinking like a woman, not a man. How's your hubby going to feel when he finds out? Is he going to believe you? Let me ask you this? Since all this started, have you been fucking his brains out? Doing new things you didn't do in bed with him before. Hell, I can see right now that you're wearing, or not wearing, some awfully delicious things to work under your clothes. Young lady, that all screams affair to a husband."
"As for informing the police, that dog won't hunt either. Our little buddy Sally out there is all set to testify cheerfully that you and I have been doing some awfully naughty things that she has seen with her own eyes. For instance, she's seen you more than once coming out from under my desk, between my legs. She's seen you kiss me. She's seen you with your hand down in my pants. Of course, you two being such good friends, you've had to tell her all the juicy details so she could experience the fun without having to cheat on her husband."
"I know you're wondering why I'm going to do this. Well, I'll admit that I'm not exactly being a gentleman here. I wanted to fuck you silly the first time I laid eyes on you, to be sure. Normally, you would never have suspected that. You see, two things have changed. First, when you started this up I stopped seeing you as the innocent little businesslike wife I hired. Second and most important is the fact that I know damn well that you want this just as bad as I do. Just keep in mind, I didn't start this, you did."
I was quivering like a leaf in the wind as he casually strolled around all three sides of the bed, gazing lustily over every inch of my exposed body. My mind was racing with thoughts I never should have had to deal with. He was right, of course, about all of it. I had painted myself into a corner. He was going to have his way with me, first of all. Given the present circumstances, that much was unavoidable. It was also true that it was my own reckless behavior that had me in this mess. The third thing that was true was that I didn't have a prayer of doing anything about it after. He was right. If I cried rape, I'd look like a fool. No, worse than that. I'd look like a whore who had started up a fling with her boss, cheating on her husband, and then had tried to get revenge when said boss tried to end the affair. In my husband's eyes, my accusation of being forced into this would just look like damage control to protect my marriage from my own slutty behavior.
The practical side of my mind tried to rise up and save me. It told me that this was going to happen, that it was beyond my control. It advised me that in just a little while this would be over. I could get a new job and never come back here again. I could give Will some excuse for needing to change paths, and just live with the guilt of my actions. I would try and salvage some self respect, however. I didn't have to give him the satisfaction of me participating in this or enjoying myself at all. There was another part of my mind fighting toward the surface though. The part of me that had gotten me here to begin with wanted him to do things to me, and was damn sure going to enjoy it all. He was now kneeling on the bed in front of my right foot, that big cock only inches away from touching me. I thought of all the times I had dreamed of that very thing happening for real and felt myself slipping further toward the dark side.
"My God, Kyran." He hoarsely whispered, "Those sexy little feet of yours look so good. I've had to watch helplessly while you tortured me with them, and now here they are. They're all mine now. Guess what I want first Kyran?"
"What are you going to do John?" I asked in a croaking whisper, "Please don't touch me with your ... big ... thing."
"Mmnn, excellent idea." He whispered, "I bet that would feel so nice. Glad you thought of it."
What I had experienced in fantasy just a while ago at my desk was now somewhat being fulfilled. The irony was not lost on me that the shoe was on the other foot in this version, if you'll pardon a bad pun. His big hands held my foot securely while he began to slowly stroke his big cock up and down the sole. I could especially feel the bulbous head as it travelled along. He was quite obviously enjoying himself. I realized to my everlasting shame that, unfortunately, so was I. This was so deliciously wicked and wrong.
"Somebody please ... help me," I whispered, unconvincingly, trying to push him away, "You ... mustn't ... do this to me. Oh, you're ... an ... animal. You're ... a pervert."
"Oh Kyran?" he asked me with a dreamy smile on his face, "There's a question I forgot to ask you. I sincerely hope you'll say yes. I've been very curious all this time you see. Are you, perhaps, ticklish?"
"No!" I pleaded, "Please ... not that. I beg of you!"
The answer to his question was, of course, yes. I was ticklish in a great many places, especially my feet. From my response, he knew it. He seamlessly added the new to the old. He merely released his right hand from holding my foot and began using it for his new purpose. The restraint and his left hand were enough to keep me helpless. He began rapidly scrabbling his fingernails up and down the sensitive arch at the side of my foot adjacent to the sole.
The response was just as he intended. I tried to fight it. I gritted my teeth. I did my best to pretend it wasn't bothering me in the slightest. A giggle slipped out, then a few more. I tried to wiggle my foot away to no avail, which probably only served to stimulate him even more. Seconds later, I was laughing full out, while my body bucked on the bed. He would move the attack to the sole next, right next to where he was still stroking his big cock. Then he would go back to the arch again. He would also tickle the sensitive area just below the base of my toes. He would stop tickling for a few seconds to give me a chance to breathe, and before I could even begin to take the time to beg for mercy, he would start all over again. I felt I was losing my mind. To my horror I realized that this was actually turning me on even more! My nipples were standing up, and my pussy was getting soaking wet. He finally stopped enough to let me get my breathing under control.
"I'm so happy we're doing this Kyran." John teased, still stroking slowly, "It's so fun. It feels even better than I imagined. It's so fun watching your sexy body thrashing around. Hell, you even sound great. You have such a sexy laugh when you're being tickled."
"John, please!" I begged shamelessly, "I can't take it anymore."
"Well, you do have another option." He advised with a grin.
"Wh ... what do you mean?"
"I'll stop if you want to suck my dick instead."
"No! Not that. Please don't make me do that!"
"That was the wrong answer, Kyran."
With that, the attack was back on. I thrashed, I twisted, I laughed until I couldn't breathe. This time the breaks he gave me for breathing were further between and of shorter duration. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the maddening assault stopped.
"Okay ... I'll ... I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just please stop tickling me!"
With that he began slowly coming up the bed on his knees toward me, a smile of lust mixed with triumph on his face. His big cock was actually swaying back and forth as he moved. This would hardly be the best blowjob I'd ever given. For starters, I'd never tried oral on a big one like this. There was also the fact that the position I was in was less than ideal for this. The position of the pillows behind me, I now realized with a crimson flush, had been thought out with that in mind. He planned that so I would have some freedom of movement so I could suck him. The crimson flush got even deeper as I realized that a very strong part of me wanted to suck that big cock. It was just so big and hard and ... beautiful. It looked even better than I had imagined it in my fantasies. Now there it was, right in front of my face. I just gave up and let the depraved part of me take over.
I closed my eyes and began tentatively kissing and licking all along the underside. He helped me with this by slowly drawing it back and forth as I did so. When I reached the base I took each separate testicle into my mouth and softly licked and sucked them. Once I again reached the shaft he began drawing back so I could make my way toward the head. His right hand had reached down and he began to softly stroke my left breast. He would open his big hand up enough to nearly palm it like a basketball, and then he would softly pull his fingers up simultaneously, finishing this off with a gentle squeezing, twisting motion on my nipple. It felt heavenly. I began licking and teasing the underside of his manhood at the glans and was rewarded by hearing him softly moan. When I had finally reached the end, I opened wide and drew him in.
I could only handle a few inches of him, but I did my best, drawing him in until it hit my gag reflex. I tried to make up for the lack of depth by using my tongue to its best advantage. I was obviously scoring points by the sounds and facial expressions he was making. He decided to help me out by using his free left hand to stroke back and forth along his shaft as I sucked with abandon, my head travelling as far as its limited freedom to move would allow. I obviously was doing far better than I thought, because it didn't seem to take all that long. I suddenly felt his cock swell, and his body vibrate. I knew he was about to flood me and I did my best to prepare, choking up toward the head so I had room to swallow. I managed to swallow every trace of him as he trembled through his orgasm.
Suddenly, he was lying beside me. It was here that he surprised me. I expected him to be rough and uncaring with me. To the contrary, he began to softly and hungrily kiss me, our tongues entwined. He explored my ears, my neck, and began slowly kissing and sucking his way toward my breasts. I was in an absolute state of rapture as his mouth softly began to suck at my right breast. His hand left off its work at my left breast and began slowly tracing its way to my steaming wet pussy. His fingers had no sooner begun to strum away down there before I had a sudden and violent orgasm.
He was playing me like a musical instrument. I felt his hungry mouth and tongue eventually moving southward as his fingers continued to work. I was pitching my head left and right and babbling nonsensically. My pussy felt like it was boiling. When his skilled tongue finally began lapping away at my wet slit, it felt like the top of my head was blowing off. I lost count of the orgasms as he let his tongue and his fingers do a dual assault on my hot, wet sex. His tongue lightly tickled the sides and the tip of my swollen clit, while his large finger slid back and forth inside me, stroking away at my G spot. With yet another heavy orgasm, I nearly felt my consciousness slip away.
I soon thereafter felt him moving on top of me again, his large body moving to place his big cock at the entrance to my pussy. He began to tease me with it, drawing the head up and down along the sopping wet slit. Each time the head touched my clit, my hips would buck up toward him, in an attempt to capture him.
"Oh no you don't." he teased, "I'm not just going to stick it in. You've got to tell me you want it. I want to hear you say it."
"Oh, please John. I want it so bad. I need it. Please fuck me. I beg you to fuck me. Make me your little whore. Put your big, beautiful dick in my wet little married pussy and fuck me!"
He went in slow, giving me time to adjust to his size. I actually came as he was putting it in, before he had even bumped up against my cervix. After giving me a few moments to settle down he began slowly stroking away. He would gradually speed up, and then he would slow to a mere crawl. It excited me, filled me like never before. My rapture was now coming in waves, my body jerking in orgasmic delight as I thrust my hips up to meet him with each stroke. My God, it had never been like this before. I was so full; his big cock was hitting nerve endings that I didn't know I had.
Morality was a foreign concept now. I no longer cared. All I wanted was this feeling. I would do anything for it. I would have let John fuck me in front of Will, in front of my parents. Hell, I would have let him fuck me at high noon on First and Main, and give him a week to draw a crowd. My former plan to go home in shame and never come back was gone. I would be here every day, if he wanted. I'd work in nothing but my stockings and garter belt if he asked. I was his toy now, and that depraved thought only excited me that much more.
"Who does that sweet little hot pussy belong to now?" he asked softly, seemingly reading my thoughts.
"It's your pussy John." I moaned, "It's yours lover, whenever you want it."
John finally gave out a strangled moan, shuddered deeply, and coated the walls of my pussy with his cum. As he rolled off me with a sigh, I was greeted to a new surprise. Sitting in an armchair at the foot of the bed was Sally. She was naked, save for her stockings and garter belt, her shapely legs thrown up over the arms of the chair. The fingers of one hand played with a lush breast, the fingers of the other hand tickled away at a very wet pussy.
"Well Kyran," she said dreamily, "That certainly looked like fun. I was very interested to note that your sexy little feet are extremely ticklish. You see, I'm a very skilled and enthusiastic tickler. I won't just use my fingers. I'll also use my tongue, my teeth. There's another fun little toy in the top of that closet as well, a nice electric toothbrush. You have no idea how much I can make you beg with that. I can't help but wonder. If you'll suck John's dick to escape being tickled, would you lick my pussy to escape it as well? You're going to be John's, but you're going to be mine too. Ah, work is going to be so much fun now."
I had a pretty good idea that she was right. Especially seeing as how I had already begun to wonder just how those ripe, full breasts and that wet little pussy of hers would taste. Indeed, the picture flashed through my mind, me being HER foot slave. Me happily licking her juicy cunt as John banged away at me from behind, doggie style, and the equally delicious thought of seeing her eat me while he fucked her. I'm sure they would be tying me up from time to time still, but it would hardly be necessary. I'd do anything either of them wanted. I was now their bitch, their little slave. Though it will be my eventual doom, it will continue anyway, though I know it will cost me everything. The only thing that is now unsure is how long it will be until the truth comes out. I have the sad feeling it won't be, but I hope it's a long time.