Chapter 2

“What are you doing?” Teddy asked the 64,000 dollar question.

“What are YOU doing?” I asked reflexively. My son was dressed in his jammies and I was the naked one.

“I am getting something to drink,” he replied as he ogled me. I felt his eyes burning into my nipples. I wished that they weren’t so erect.

“Get it and go,” I insisted. I had at least managed to speak to my son this time. He walked around me and stared at me oddly. He got his drink and retreated upstairs.

I picked my phone up and spoke into the camera. My husband could barely contain his amusement. “I am glad you think this is funny. If Teddy had walked in a minute or two later he would have caught me on the floor!”

“Yep,” Steve chuckled. I told him that I was coming back upstairs and he insisted that I stay and finish my assignment. He assured me that it was very unlikely that Teddy would return.

“My heart nearly jumped out of my throat, Steve,” I assured him. Steve convinced me to stay and finish the dare that I had been assigned. I didn’t want to but a part of me is fairly stubborn about finishing what I start. I definitely didn’t enjoy it and the entire time I kept thinking about what my son thought about it.

Steve found it hilarious.

“He’d have to be confused about the crushed Oreos,” I reminded Steve while I rode his dick and fucked him silly when I returned to the bedroom.

“You are worried about what he thought about why you were crushing up cookies?” Steve laughed as he slid in and out of me. His fingers slid into my asshole. I let him play with my butt. He liked it but I didn’t. He hadn’t taken much interest in assplay in a long time.

“Obviously, the entire scenario was crazy, but yeah I mean what if he asks what I was doing with the cookies?”

“Tell him you were making a little midnight snack,” he joked.

The next morning things returned to normal for us at breakfast. Everyone was tuned to their cell phones or bickering about something. I was looking at my phone as well.

“What does that tattoo say on your butt?” Teddy asked at the kitchen table. Everyone’s head snapped out of their phones and all eyes were on me.

I blushed. It wasn’t part of the deal that Teddy was going to say something in front of his siblings.

“Mom? You’ve got a tattoo on your ass?” Cindy smiled wickedly. I knew she instantly felt she had leverage over me to get whatever body piercing or bad decision she wanted to make because I had that tattoo.

“It’s just an old tattoo,” I looked down at my feet. I was wearing sweatpants and footsie slippers. “Snoopy on his dog house as a biplane against the Red Baron,” I grimaced. How I got the tattoo was a long (and boring) story but suffice to say that I regretted it and hadn’t thought about it in years. I got that back in my rebellious twenties as a fuck you to my father and naturally I never showed it to my parents.

“You have a Peanut’s tattoo?” Daniel was excited “I want to see!”. He’s much more outgoing than his little brother and a little brash.

“Yeah, Mom,” Cindy laughed.

I immediately shot them down. They could ask all they wanted but I made it clear that I wasn’t going to budge on it and I assumed that would be all there was to it.

“They want to see. Show them,” Steve said like it was an order. He gave me a knowing look like he was playing the midnight game we play in bed with me.

“Steve...” I pleaded. It was one thing to give me orders in the bedroom but not in front of my kids.

“How did you see it anyway? Scro! Peeping on mom?” Daniel teased his little brother.

“Not really, Mom was...” Teddy was about to spill the beans about catching me nude in the kitchen and I assumed perhaps tell my dirty little secret about being caught before.

I stood up and abruptly pulled my sweatpants down to expose my right ass cheek. I felt if I just came clean and acted like it was not a big deal then the matter would get dropped.

Cindy and Danny both made raucous comments about the size and detail of my tattoo. At the time that I got it, I had a crush on the tattoo artist, and I told him to draw whatever he wanted because I couldn’t think of anything. In retrospect, it was something I regretted but had largely forgotten.

My kids teased me a little but in a little while it was forgotten, and their heads disappeared back into their phones. There was a lot of snickering and bemused expressions from all four of the rest of my family though and I suppose it was kind of funny.

Later that night in bed, my husband was ready to play again. “See? They asked to see the tattoo, you showed them and no big deal. No fuss, no muss.”

“Easy for you to say,” I replied sarcastically. I had been terrified and I assumed that I’d never hear the end of the jokes about Snoopy and Charlie Brown. “You are the one that gets to tell me what to do.”

Saying that out loud made it real to me for a moment. It was all a silly game to me, but hearing myself say “You are the one that gets to tell me what to do.” Framed things a little differently for me.

“Yes, and it was easier to simply do as they asked. If you had refused, they would have kept asking over and over and made a big deal. You satisfied their curiosity and that was the end of it.”

“Well, that should be the end of our games, Steve. We are being irresponsible, and this house is way too small to keep playing without them finding out.”

“They already found out and they didn’t care,” Steve replied.

“They just know I have a tattoo,” I explained that Teddy hadn’t told them everything he saw that night. I intercepted him before he could tell them more.

“You don’t think they talk? They know. They don’t care,” he insisted. I didn’t believe him. He told me that he’d start giving me instructions during the day from now on.

I was not interested in that at all, but Steve made it sound like I was already in too deep to refuse and that he had to prove a point to me. I wanted to keep performing the nighttime escapades but I was terrified that we would go too far and the kids would find out.

“Find out what? that you follow instructions?”

“These aren’t just instructions, Steve. These are pull my nipples and slap my clit and do a Hula dance around the house,” I snickered.

“Yeah, and?”

“They will think I am crazy,” I insisted.

“Everyone is a little crazy. They’ll laugh and not care. You’ll see,” he said. “You agreed to the deal, do you want to stop?”

“No,” I said emphatically. I wanted to do naughty things like this even MORE. I just hated to admit it out loud or to myself. “I want to keep going, Steve.”

I opened my dresser drawer to retrieve my dildo. It wasn’t where I left it. I immediately panicked. I had a deep relationship and dependency on that dildo, it was my old faithful that always got me off.

“Nope, you can’t have it until you behave,” Steve waited until the initial shock of realizing it wasn’t where I left it sunk in to let me know he hid it.

“Where is it, Steve?”

“You can’t play with yourself unless you have permission,” he insisted.

I insisted that I could finger fuck myself anytime I pleased.

“Nope, you have to earn it.”

I don’t know why I didn’t masturbate just to prove a point. I think I would have felt self-conscious finger fucking myself while my husband looked down his nose at me. There was a part of me that wanted his approval and I think it would have been impossible to have an orgasm after that conversation even if I tried.

The next day, my husband laid out some shorty-shorts for me to wear. He chopped up a good pair of denim shorts with scissors and made them impossibly revealing. He told me that I could wear one of the tank tops that I normally wear but no bra, and the shorts.

“C’mon, Steve. The kids don’t want to see my boobs hanging out,” I said.

“Let’s ask them then,” my husband grabbed the clothes and started to head for our bedroom door as if he was going to put up to a family vote.

I grabbed them back from him. I didn’t want him to ASK them. “Fine, but if they need therapy because of this then it is your fault,” I half joked. I warned him that if any of them ask me to put more clothes on then that would be the end of it.

“Yep, anything they ask you to do, you won’t say no. You’ll just do it.”

“Hardee, har-har,” I assumed he was joking. I could imagine the chaos of a household where I just gave in to every whim that my kids had and agreed to do it.

Cindy seemed amused with what I had on. I had expected that, but I thought she’d have something really snarky to say. Daniel and Teddy didn’t seem to notice at all, or if they did, they didn’t seem to care. I wanted them to make sarcastic comments so that I could prove to my husband that he’d been wrong about his prediction.

I felt silly working in the outfit, but on Zoom meetings I often kept my camera off. My tits felt pendulous and they swung as I walked without a bra. I liked the freedom of not wearing a bra but not the way it made me feel so vulnerable and exposed.

My nipples got extremely hard at times, and I was certain the kids might notice. If they they did, they didn’t say anything though. I assumed they would tease me or ask me to put my bra back on. It was Covid though and we were all more comfortable in tank tops and sweats now. I played it off like it was no big deal and tried not to think about my boobs jiggling.

I have to admit that while most of this sounds like my husband’s idea, I was the willing participant who was eagerly awaiting his instructions. I didn’t want my kids (or anyone else) to find out about my naughty games. However, I was hiding out in plain sight and my husband frequently gave me little assignments around the house.

The instructions were usually fairly innocuous during daylight hours. I wasn’t streaking through the house and dancing a jig in front of the kitchen window in broad daylight. These were secret little games that we got away with largely because the kids were too caught up in their own lives and cell phones to notice.

My sex life dramatically improved. When my husband initially forbid me to masturbate I found it to be unfair, unjust and silly. How could he KNOW what I did in the privacy in the bathroom anyway?

I don’t know if Steve realized it but when he hid my dildo I became intensely frustrated. The frustration of not being able to do what I wanted when I wanted had a strange impact on me. I had never had anyone tell me that I couldn’t play with myself. It was not something I ever felt I had to qualify or justify.

I wasn’t prepared for the lusty feelings of longing to be touched and being generally horny all of the time. I assumed that was how young men felt most of the time. My pussy began to drip and get wet when I felt a cold draft, or had a dirty thought. It only made me hunger for our games.

I had gotten away with dashing about nearly naked in the backyard or in the kitchen, even running to the stoplight and back. I was getting away with doing naughty things during the day right under my kid’s noses. Steve permitted me to have my dildo and fuck myself in my sweatpants while I sat on a Zoom meeting and I nearly had an orgasm during the presentation. I had to put myself on mute!

No one on the office Zoom meeting had any inkling that I was masturbating and I was able to make eye contact with them while I did!

I could also wear skimpy little black negligees and zip around the house like a nymphomaniac in heat – shaking my butt and thinking dirty thoughts. It was quite scandalous and the idea that my husband was ‘making me’ behave this way only added fuel to my lustful fantasies.

I was happy with the new rules and how my relationship with my husband was evolving but ready for more. “I kind of like being told what to do,” I told my husband as I went down on him in bed that night. I didn’t usually suck his cock because he never reciprocated but I was trying to butter him up. I was also just feeling really dirty -like a slut. I wanted him to call me a slut again. It was so dirty!

He rubbed my hair ‘I can see it in your eyes. You have to stop asking if I am sure I want you to do something when I give you an instruction. If I tell you to do something then I want you to do it. That’s the deal,” he insisted.

I had a terrible habit of asking him if he was sure when he asked me to do something terrifying or potentially humiliating. It was a stalling tactic on my part, but I told him that was because I wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“Just assume that I am not, and if I am I’ll tell you,” my husband sounded so confident. I kept licking and slurping his dick. I am sure he was on an ego trip but he deserved it. This game was fun and I was enjoying pleasing him. I was getting off on turning him on but also hopeful that at the end he was going to let me have an extended masturbation session. I hoped he would watch and not just fall asleep.

“I want you to call Marcie and invite her over,” Steve told me. I knew immediately he was implying that he really wanted a four-way swinger situation. “Don’t you dare ask me if I am sure,” he caught me as I was about to say it and twisted my left nipple roughly.

“That’s a big step, Steve,” I replied breathlessly.

“The deal is that you follow my instructions. I have an assignment for you. Invite her over and make it clear what we are going to do.”

“Are you really okay with another man having his way with me?” I pouted. I was uncomfortable with the idea of sharing my partner and myself. I suppose it was insecurities and just the fact that this was something that I had been raised to believe was wrong.