“Honey, we need to talk.”

I hated saying those words, they are a husband’s worst nightmare, but I had reached the end of my rope.

We had just finished one of our Saturday-night BDSM-light sex scenes and we were lying on our backs next to each other on our king-size bed while sipping from bottles of ice-cold water. I’d prepared myself as I usually did, hoping for the best, but it had been a rather routine session. He’d spanked me, swatted me with our one flogger, and then taken me from behind both vaginally and anally. I’d reached a climax, but only one, before he’d flooded my ass with his cum and we’d relaxed with sweat dripping off of our bodies.

“What do we need to talk about?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sure you remember what it was like when you felt you were missing something in our relationship.”

He winced. “Of course I remember. I screwed up, had sex with another woman, and you really made me pay for it.”

“I know I did, but it taught us both a lesson, didn’t it?”

“Sure, it taught us to come to each other when we were unhappy over something.”

“You know I love you, Aaron, and I’m ... I’m ninety-five percent happy and satisfied with our relationship.”

“Okay ... so ... what are you unhappy about?”

“I think you know.”

He hesitated, then grumbled, “Yeah, I guess I do. But I’m just not that kind of guy, Barbara.”

“In your training, both in the military and for the police force, they teach you to be assertive, to take charge of a situation, right? Like when directing traffic, or interviewing a witness to a crime?”

“Right, they do, but–”

“They do role-play to show you how to react and respond to different kinds of behaviors, too, don’t they? How to interrogate a suspect, the little psychological tricks you use to try to get them to confess or whatever?”

“Yes, you know they do.”

“Look, Aaron, I know you’re not naturally a dominant kind of guy, and I do love the romantic times we have together. But I want more of what we sort-of did tonight.”

“What do you mean, sort-of? I thought I did what you wanted.”

“You did maybe ten percent of what I really want, and it’s like an itch I can’t scratch.”

He pondered that for several seconds. “I think I’ve known that for a while, but I’ve never been able to admit it to myself, because if I did I’d also have to admit that I’ve failed you.”

Uh oh, I thought, this is dangerous territory. Aaron’s self-image is very important to him.

“You haven’t failed me,” I hurried to reassure him. “It’s maybe more like you don’t really understand why I want what I do, why it’s important to me. But I have an idea about how we can maybe do more.”

He looked at me questioningly. “What kind of an idea?”

It was my turn to hesitate. But I’d been thinking about this for quite a while, and I knew if I was going to make any progress and stop being so damn frustrated I’d have to risk laying this all out for him. “I know a man who is willing to teach you some things.”

He instantly bristled. “What do you mean, you know a man?”

“Aaron, please,” I said softly, and I took his hand. “I know this conversation is upsetting you, but please, just hear me out.” I gently squeezed his hand, and after a brief pause he squeezed back.

“Okay, I’ll listen. How do you know this guy?”

“I only know him online; I’ve never met him in person.”

I watched as my husband slowly relaxed his hunched shoulders. “Tell me more,” he growled, and I had to force myself to be patient and speak softly and persuasively.

“From what he’s told me and what the stories he’s written, I can tell he knows a lot, and he’s done a lot, of the kinds of things I want to experiment with. He’s been in the lifestyle, what people call the world of BDSM, for more than thirty-five years. He’s seventy-nine years old, Aaron. He doesn’t live around here, he lives hundreds of miles away, and he’s not a threat to you or to our marriage in any way. But he can show you things I want you to see, to understand, about me and what I want to experience with you.” I put extra emphasis on those last two words; I wanted my husband to know that I really wanted him to be the one to take me on these sexual adventures in the future.

Aaron thought about what I’d said for more than a few seconds before he responded. “How do you know this guy’s for real? He could be faking all this knowledge and experience.”

I thought for a moment. “You’re right, I cannot be a hundred percent sure about him. But I’m ninety-nine percent convinced he’s for real. You know how it is when people lie; sooner or later they trip themselves up, contradict something they’ve said earlier. That’s never happened with him. I was skeptical at first, but he’s been completely consistent for almost three years and the people who’ve read his stories say the descriptions in them are accurate and realistic.”

“Okay, I see why you think he’s on the level. So what’s your idea?”

“I want to invite him to visit us for a weekend.”

Aaron looked at me like I was crazy. “And what do you want to happen on that weekend?” he asked gruffly.

“I want him to explain some things to you and show you some things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things about BDSM, and what he calls power exchange, and things about me that may help you understand me better.”

“He knows things about you? Things I don’t know?”

More dangerous territory; I’d better not tell him everything right now. “We talk about things, honey, and I’ve shared some of my ... longings, what I want you to do with me.” I again emphasized how I wanted him, my husband, to be. “So he knows how I think about some things, and maybe he can explain those things to you better than I can, that’s all I meant.”

“Okay, I can see that, I guess.” He paused, then asked tentatively, “What do you mean by showing me things?”

“Well, he’ll probably bring a bunch of BDSM implements, what people call toys, and show them to you and show you how they can be used.”

“How they can be used? You mean on you?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. He’ll want you to see how I react to them.” I’ll want you to see that too, I thought. I know he’ll turn me on, and then you’ll see what really rough play does for me.

“So ... it’s okay for me to invite him?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

“Of course,” I replied, and then I rolled onto my side, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him, trying to put as much reassurance as I could into it.

After letting my husband mull things over for a couple of days I sat down next to him on our living-room couch, took his hand in mine again, and reopened the discussion. “Have you thought over what we talked about the other night?”

“To be honest, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

“And?” I prompted. “Where are we? What do you think? Is it okay for me to invite him to visit for a weekend?”

I know you want this to happen, so ... yeah ... I guess so.”

“Okay, I will ... but ... there are some things you have to know ... and agree to ... for this to happen.”

“I think I know some of them, but maybe you should ... spell them out.”

“Yes, I guess I should. Okay ... he’ll see me ... naked.”

“I figured that.”

‘He’ll touch me ... intimately.”

“Yeah, I figured that too.”

“He may kiss me ... and it won’t be a brother-sister kind of kiss, it’ll be ... passionate, and I’ll be ... returning it. He may put his mouth on my body, on my breasts, on my ... you know.”

That gave him pause. “I suppose I should have expected those kinds of things might happen.”

“He’s going to hurt me, honey. He’s going to do a lot more than what you’ve ever done. But it’s what I want, what I want you to see, and I will have safewords in case things go too far for me.”

“What are safewords?”

“Safewords are code words that I can use to tap out, to tell him to slow down or to stop completely. Even though he’ll be doing all kinds of things to me, the bottom line is that I’ll always have the ultimate control.”

“Will he actually stop if you say one of your safewords?”

“Yes, he will, and you’ll be there to stop him if he doesn’t. But I’m sure he will.”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

“He’s going to turn me on, honey. You know how I am in our Saturday-night sessions, and they will be like a candle versus a megawatt searchlight. I’ll be focused on him, but you’ll be watching me with ... another man, and it’s going to be ... hard for you to watch, and to listen, and to learn. You’ll have to remember that it’s for your benefit, for you to see what works for me, what I really want. For him this would be one weekend, but for you, for us, it would be to enhance the rest of our lives together.”

My husband was obviously struggling with what I was proposing. “Will you ... want to ... have sex with him?”

I’d dreaded this question, because I knew the answer. “I ... I probably will.” Then I paused and realized I had to be completely open with him. “No, let me be honest with you; you deserve that. I’m sure I will. But here’s the point. Whatever you say I cannot do, he will enforce that; from everything he’s said, and everything he’s written, I believe he has enormous integrity and he will abide by whatever limits you set for me.”

Aaron shook his head. “That’s hard to believe ... that he would hold himself back like that. I know you, you’re sexy as hell, and I know what you’re like when you get going. I don’t get how any man could refuse you. Is he gay?”

I had to chuckle at that. “No, I don’t think he’s gay. He’s been married three times and he’s been in a committed relationship with a woman for the last twenty years.”

Aaron gave me a raised-eyebrow look. “How committed can it be if he’s willing to come visit us and ... do things with you? And I have to wonder what this woman of his would think about that.”

“You don’t have to wonder; I’ll tell you. He’s explained to me how their relationship is one of dominance and submission, and in some ways it’s similar to an open marriage; they each can have interactions with other people for BDSM play, what he calls scenes. They have an agreement, a written document, that spells out how their relationship will be, how he’s in charge, what he can do and the rules for what she can do with other people, especially sexually.”

“That’s ... hard to believe. How do, you know this is really true?”

He sent me a copy of his agreement, what he calls his contract, including the signatures page, and it looks real. He even shared his final SF-86 with me.”

“I know what that is. It’s the questionnaire people have to fill out to get or keep a security clearance.”

“His was fifty-four pages long and it goes back decades on some subjects; it’s incredibly detailed, and no one would bother to fake such a document. But it does show that he’s had high-level clearances, so he obviously knows how to be discreet and keep secrets.”

Aaron’s expression was rueful. “You really do know a lot about someone you’ve never met.”

“Honey, you have to understand. What we’ve talked about in our chats and emails ... he probably knows more about me than you do.”

He smiled when I said that, but then he got deadly serious. “Like I said, you truly want this, don’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question, but I answered him anyway. “Yes, I do,” I said simply. “I want it for me, but even more I want it for us.”

Aaron looked me straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to have sex with him.”

“Okay ... I understand that ... and I accept it ... but could you be more specific?”

“I don’t want him to ... fuck you ... to put his cock in your ... pussy ... or ... your ass.”

“Okay ... I’ll tell him that. What about ... other things?”

“I may not want to ... watch you ... with him ... but you can do ... whatever else...”

I had to know. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes ... I’m as sure as I can be. I may not like it, but I trust you. Actually,” he grinned, “because of what you’ve told me, I trust him more than I trust you.”

I grinned back at him. “I’m sure you’re right about that, and I thank you for that trust.” I kissed him, a long, lingering, passionate kiss, and then I took his hand and pulled him on top of me. “Now fuck my brains out.”

I’d told Harvey what Aaron’s limits were and given him our address in Northridge, and he drove up to our house promptly at five o’clock on Friday afternoon. Having arrived home only a few minutes before, I was still dressed as I’d been for work in a knee-length pencil skirt, ruffled-front blouse, matching suit jacket, and shoes with professionally appropriate two-inch heels. Unlike my husband, who’d gotten home from work earlier and had time to change from his police uniform into casual slacks, a polo, and loafers, I’d only had a brief time to freshen up. When we saw Harvey’s SUV pull up, I nudged Aaron and he went out to help bring in Harvey’s belongings.

When Harvey got out of his car I saw that he was wearing slacks, a dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a sport coat, all in typical dominant-person black. He and Aaron shook hands and then with Aaron’s help he unloaded a rollaboard suitcase, two big duffels, and a case like those that people use to carry rifles and shotguns around. They brought all that stuff into the house.

I’d known that Harvey was a bit under five-ten, so with my work heels on he and I were close to eye level when he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Then Harvey put his hand in the small of my back and gently pushed me towards our living-room couch, and just that small contact sent a shiver up my spine. He sat in one of the two recliner chairs across from the couch, which left the place next to me for Aaron. I decided that I needed to get the conversation started before any awkwardness set in.

“How was the drive down?” I asked.

“It was fine, thanks. I lived in Southern California three different times while I was working and we’ve driven down here a couple of times since we retired, so I know the area pretty well.”

I was glad he said we, because I wanted to take every opportunity to remind Aaron that Harvey was in a long-term relationship and wasn’t looking to somehow seduce me away from him. But I also thought he might be reticent to start talking about why he was here, so I figured I had to get the ball rolling.

“As you know, Aaron and I had a long talk before I invited you to spend this weekend with us,” I ventured cautiously. “So he knows why you’re here, of course, and the kinds of things that might happen during your visit.”

“That’s good,” he replied. “I know some of those things may be disturbing to him, but I’ll do my best to minimize any discomfort by explaining why they’re happening and how they can be positive experiences.”

“I appreciate that, and I know Aaron will too,” I blurted out. Aaron didn’t look very convinced, though, so I took his hand and tried to send reassuring mental signals.

“I’m going to explain some things to you, Aaron, many of which Barbara already knows, and it may seem at times like I’m lecturing to you. So I want to say at the outset that I respect you, as a person and as Barbara’s husband, and I would never talk down to you. Do you believe me?”

Oh, that’s marvelous, I thought. It’s a great way to start; he’s working on getting Aaron to respect him at the same time.

“I do,” Aaron replied. “I’m sure you’ll tell me things I don’t know, and some that I probably won’t want to hear, but I know that’s why you’re here.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here, and I’m sure about the second part of what you said. Did you know that Barbara filled out a questionnaire and a checklist for me?”

Aaron shook his head, clearly chagrined. “No, I didn’t.”

“I’m sure I know a lot more about her, and what she wants, than you do. Does that bother you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think it does. Why would she tell you things she hasn’t told me?”

Harvey didn’t hesitate, and I squeezed Aaron’s hand in mine and waited anxiously for the shoe to drop.

“She told me because we talk about a lot of different things,” he said carefully, watching Aaron closely for his reaction. “My guess is she hasn’t told you those things because she’s afraid they’ll upset you, or disgust you, or make you think less of her, and she’s afraid of having that happen.”

At first Aaron looked startled, then he looked angry, and finally he looked resigned. “I never want Barbara to be afraid to tell me something,” he admitted, ‘but I can see why she would be reluctant to tell me some things. Maybe it’s time for me to adjust my attitude.”

Holy crap, I thought with a sense of wonder. Is Harvey getting through to my husband already?

“I’m sure Barbara would like nothing better,” Harvey said soothingly.

“Can you give me at least a hint of what I’ve been missing?”

“I won’t tell you specifics of what she’s shared with me, at least not right now,” Harvey replied. “But what I’ll say in general terms is that what Barbara wants is for you to say and do vile and nasty things to her in a loving and caring way, and if you think that’s a contradiction, well, my role, my job here, is to do my best to convince you that in her case it really isn’t.”

Now Aaron looked shocked, but he gamely recovered. “Can you explain that?”

“Sure. Do you know what a sadist and a masochist are?” Aaron nodded. “There is good pain and bad pain, and people like me, people into BDSM, describe the good kind as sensual pain. The pain and pleasure centers in the human brain are very close to each other. Sometimes, in some people, under some circumstances, the signals get crossed, and that’s the case with Barbara. She gets to a point where she finds certain kinds of pain, sensual pain, to be extremely pleasurable. I say sensual pain because there’s a saying, an old cliché, that goes, ‘Even a masochist cries when she stubs her toe.’ So there’s a distinction between how different kinds of pain happen to someone.”

“Okay, I can sort of understand that.”

“You’ve seen drug addicts in the course of your work, right?” He nodded again. “Well, what they’re addicted to, as I’m sure you know, is the high they get from the drugs. The body’s response to some kinds of pain is to produce a kind of hormone called endorphins, and when it does those endorphins produce a natural high that turns the pain into a pleasurable feeling; it’s the body’s own opiate high.”

God, he’s good, I thought. He’s leading Aaron right down the garden path, getting him to agree with what he’s saying, logically taking him where he needs to get for this to work. I was more than content to just sit quietly and let Harvey handle the conversation; I knew he was telling Aaron things that he wouldn’t have really heard, really understood, if I was the one saying them.

Harvey looked at my husband and raised an eyebrow. “With your permission, I’m going to give Barbara some directions.”

Aaron nodded. “From what she told me, you’re going to do a lot more than that.”

“Oh, I will, before the weekend’s over,” he replied lightly, “and so will you. But we’ll start slowly and build the dynamics.” He beckoned to me and I let go of Aaron’s hand, stood up, and walked slowly across the room to stand in front of him. I was nervous, but also excited. It’s really happening, I thought happily.

“Turn a bit so Aaron can see your face,” he directed, and I silently complied. “You have only one possible Master, Barbara, and that’s Aaron. So you will address me as either Harvey or Sir as appropriate for the circumstances at the time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Harvey, I do.”

He stood, went to one of his duffels, pulled out a gift-wrapped box, and then reseated himself. “I’ve brought something for you, something I think you’ll like,” he said with a smile. Then his face turned serious. “Take this, go to your bedroom, and put on one of your club dresses, a thong, and what’s in this box.” He paused, then held the box out for me to take. “Go now, Ann.”

I immediately felt a shiver run up and down my spine. Aaron knew that was my middle name, and Harvey had told me he’d call me that when we shifted from friends to dominant and submissive. My eyes widened and I broke into a blush, but I immediately bowed my head before I reached out and took the package from him. It’s starting, I thought gleefully. I can’t quite believe it, but it looks like it’s really going to happen. My knees momentarily weakened and I felt my pussy start to moisten with anticipation.

“Yes, Sir, I whispered, and I took the box and headed for my bedroom. But I stopped in the hallway and listened when I heard Harvey speaking to Aaron.

“Did you see her reaction?” he asked. “Did you see her face change when I called her Ann?” Aaron must have nodded affirmatively, because Harvey continued, “You’re going to learn to read her like an open book, and both of you will be glad you can.”

I bounced on down the hallway to our master bedroom with a song in my heart and a big smile on my face as I went to freshen up and change into what Harvey had specified.

When I got to the bedroom I shared with Aaron I resisted the urge to rip the package open. Even though I had a pretty good idea of what I’d find inside I wanted to heighten and extend the suspense. I didn’t know Harvey’s plan and I had no idea what would happen later, so I grabbed a single-use enema and did my usual clean-out routine before putting my long blonde hair up in a quick bun and stepping into our walk-in-shower. I’d shaved my legs and armpits that morning and my pussy was permanently bare from the laser treatments I’d had when I was younger, so I was able to take a quick shower and then pat myself dry. I brushed out my hair and applied my make-up, and then I was ready to get dressed.

I selected a tiny lace thong from my dresser drawer and slipped it on, enjoying the sensuous feel of the silk against my skin. Then I went to my closet and chose one of my club dresses, a slinky little-black-nothing style with a deep V-neckline that showed some cleavage and spaghetti straps to hold up the bodice. I couldn’t wear a bra with that dress but I didn’t need one; despite their size my D-cup breasts were firm enough to be high and proud without support. I raised the dress over my head and then let it slide down my body; when it was settled the hem lay halfway down my thighs.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the box Harvey had given to me to reveal the trademark red soles of a pair of Christian Louboutin sandals with wide ankle straps and 120 mm stiletto heels; at a little over 4.7 inches those were the highest heels Louboutin offered. I’d known from his writing and our online chats that Harvey had a thing for high heels, and he’d shown me a picture of these during one of our chat sessions. I’d admired them and said I’d love to have them, and he’d told me he would buy them for me if he ever got the chance. Now he’d done it. One at a time, I slipped my feet into them and fastened the ankle straps. Then I slowly stood up, holding on to the night stand until I was sure of my balance. I walked carefully across my bedroom and looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

“Oh, God,” I whispered. I looked wildly, outrageously hot. Those tall heels made my tanned, toned legs look impossibly long and my calves were like sculpted pillars. He really knows how to make me feel desirable. I hope this weekend will be as hot as I look, I thought, and I felt my pussy start to seep moisture.

I walked carefully down the hall in those very high heels, and when I got to the entrance to the living room I struck a pose. As soon as I did, both men stood up and Harvey turned around to face me. Aaron was gawking at me wide-eyed, but Harvey just stood there coolly with a slight smile on his face as though he’d expected me to look this good. That’s real self-control, I thought. He makes it so easy to submit to him.

“You look fabulous, Ann,” he said, and I blushed at his compliment. I knew I was attractive, and Aaron often complimented me on my appearance, but having the man who was going to control me for the weekend looking at me with that frankly admiring gaze had me quivering and tingling. Then he pointed to the throw pillow he’d taken from the couch and placed on the floor in front of the left arm of his chair. He looked over his shoulder and spoke to Aaron as I slowly walked towards where he’d directed me.

“Watch how she moves, Aaron. Those heels not only make her calves look more defined, more shapely, they change her whole gait. Her hips sway, her ass moves in a tight figure-eight, her whole body proclaims look at me, see how sexy I am.”

Now my husband was smiling proudly and nodding in appreciation, and I kept my head high and strutted across the room like a runway model until I was standing behind the pillow. Harvey turned to his left as I approached and then we were facing each other across the pillow.

“Pull your dress up to your waist,” he commanded quietly.

I reached for my hem and Aaron’s face went blank. Oh, shit, I thought worriedly. Is he going to change his mind and cancel the weekend? But he just folded his arms across his chest and watched what was happening. I slowly pulled my dress up until it was bunched around my waist and my tiny lace thong was exposed. Then Harvey reached into his pocket and brought out a length of silver-colored light-weight chain with what looked like a small fishing weight attached to one end and a very small padlock that he held up so both Aaron and I could see it.

“This is a Samsonite luggage lock,” he said conversationally, “the kind that people used to use before the TSA started rummaging around in everyone’s unmentionables.” He put the chain around me so it rested on my hips, then locked it in place. He kept hold of the attached weight and the remaining short length of chain for a moment and then let the weight fall. The chain fell against the front of my thong, bumping across my erect clit, and the weight bounced off my vaginal lips. The sudden stimulus made my knees weaken and I felt a surge of sexual energy.

“Let your dress down and kneel,” he ordered, and I released my dress, smoothed it down my thighs, put my hand on the arm of the chair to steady myself, and sank down to rest my knees on the pillow. I sat back on the stiletto points of my new heels and Harvey resumed his explanation, speaking directly to Aaron.

“Dominance and submission are primarily psychological. She’s not actually restrained in any way, but she will be continuously aware of that chain around her body, and every time she moves it will rub across her pussy, causing a constant low-level stimulation. That combination will be a continual reminder of the fact that she is being controlled.”

God, he’s so right, I thought. The chain was very light, but I definitely knew it was there, and the weight had swung the chain away from and then against my pussy as I moved. That physical effect, and the mental impact of the symbolism on my mind, were amazing. The idea of being treated as an object, being spoken about but not involved in the conversation, was strange but arousing, and the effect of the chain on my psyche was absolutely brilliant. I was going deeper into subspace every minute and I already felt my pussy moistening further from the touch of the chain through my wispy thong. This is what I wanted him to do, to show Aaron how to take charge of me, how to read me and how to treat me. I love what he’s doing, and if Aaron learns even a small amount from what he’s doing this will be totally fantastic.

“I made a reservation for a booth at the Palm downtown,” he stated.

Aaron dropped his arms and started moving towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “In that case I’d better change into something more appropriate,” he said, and then he grabbed Harvey’s suitcase to take to our guest room where Harvey would stay during his visit and he left the living room.

“We’re out of the scene for now, Barbara, you may sit on the couch.”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’m fine; I like kneeling for you.”

He smiled. “Do you think Aaron will really be okay with what we’re going to do?”

“I hope so. I was scared when you told me to raise my dress that he was going to object, but so far he’s going along, so we’ll just have to see.”