My first husband was a real hypocrite. He would take great pleasure in always reminding me there is a time and place for everything. In his mind, the time and place was only when it fit into his agenda. I remember the hot summer nights of waiting for him to come to bed only to find him asleep on the living room sofa. Since I was a fairly young woman of only thirty years, I was beginning to think I made a serious mistake in marrying a divorced man twenty years my senior.
When my best friend Amy discarded her booze-hound husband just to have some peace and quiet, I discovered how easy it was to get a divorce in our State and at a very reasonable price. Needless to say, I was rid of Oliver in less than thirty days. My new found freedom led me to experiment with various untried positions and erotic practices my silly spouse only did with his intern bimbos.
My initial reaction to anal sex was avoid it unless absolutely necessary to retain some degree of control over a juicy cock. I had come to realize that the eighteen year olds were more bother than they were worth in the scheme of things. They did manage to stay hard a lot longer but I got impatient with having to train them into the correct way of bringing me to a satisfactory orgasm.
After some serious trial and error with a number of partners, I settled into a routine of finding sex-deprived married men or confirmed bachelors with no desire to get married in the least little bit. It was quite relaxing to just have a good time and not worry about responsibility or commitment. It was a hectic period in my life and I went through a lot of panties and thongs testing various sized cocks for fit and stamina.
Then I met Andre who was neither married nor quite a bachelor since he lived with two girls who made their living in escort work. They were both nice girls and would have been horrified to be accused of prostitution despite the fact they had a fixed price list for every kinky act imaginable. After a few glasses of delicious Chianti, they shared the price list with me and I was astonished to see some of the prices of the more erotic deviant practices for their special clients. It was like adding up-graded options to a stripped down new car.
Their names were Marci and Marie and I sometimes managed to confuse them because they did look a lot alike and their names both started with the letter "M".
I saw that the most expensive items were "Anal" and "BDSM". I knew exactly what anal would entail but I had no idea that males would pay that amount of money to shove their business up a willing female's backside. As far as BDSM, I only know it included such things as spanking and other kinky tricks to degrade and humiliate a partner. In all honesty, the spanking didn't sound all that bad to me because I had been subjected to it a number of times with my ex-spouse who had told me it seemed the only way to train a wife in performing domestic duties with some degree of competence.
I tended to enjoy the "over the knee" experience the best of all because the smack of a flat palm on my rounded bare bottom made the most exciting sound ever to my vanilla ears. I had to believe that it insured a constant flow of fluid into my vaginal interior.
Generally, I came to expect that even my disinterested husband would be prompted to insert his shaft into my over brimming slit immediately after the exercise was concluded. I imagined almost every male would be so inclined after the pounding of a female's flanks with a hot and heavy hand. I did learn to pretend to be totally disgusted with the entire process just to insure my husband's continued performances. He took great pleasure in doing anything that he thought I was averse to allowing him to bask in the glow of masculine control. So, instead of panting in heated desire, I would groan in protest and beg him to stop even thought that was the last thing I wanted to happen.
Andre overheard us discussing the merits of spanking and BDSM and decided to show me the different ways people would enjoy such kinky pleasures. The girls wanted to play as well and we made a game of it in the privacy behind a locked bedroom door. The spanking was the first lesson and we all participated with great peals of laughter and then more subdued but emotional grunts and sobs. We got so carried away that I was unable to sit for the next two days without some degree of discomfort.
One of the toys that Andre had in his closet was an antique wooden stock with padded holes for the neck and both wrists. We all took turns getting locked into the monstrosity with a lot of giggling and poking and prodding in sensitive spots. I enjoyed watching Marci and Marie struggling to get out of the stock while the rest of us would pinch and tickle them from the other side where they couldn't reach and couldn't turn around to see who it was doing it to them.
When it came my turn, I was expecting to be just as silly as the others but I discovered I was immensely turned on and wanted nothing more than to be taken full advantage of in the restrained position. Andre sensed my heated passion and bounced his cock on my bare cheeks much to the delight and laughter of the two escort girls enjoying the sight of my squirming ass moving all over the place. I knew for a fact he had not had relations with either Marci or Marie because he had a business relationship that involved their paying 2/3 of the rent each month. It was a good deal for all of them because the cost of housing had skyrocketed in recent years.
One of the girls was spanking me pretty hard. Andre was fooling around with my swinging nipples. The combination led me to fall into a convulsive orgasm. I allowed my pleasure to be signaled by my shouting out a string of dirty words and obscenities of the vilest sort. My only excuse was that my loser ex-husband branded those words into my brain again and again as he dug into my female parts from behind with a cock that knew no guilt.
I was not sure which girl it was that spanked me with such gusto, but I knew I would remember it when I tried to sit down for dinner.
The feel of the padded stock on my wrists and neck made me feel totally out of control. I knew I had no other choice but to accept anything that was done to me in that position and I just closed my eyes and imagined I was the prisoner of a band of pirates who wanted to make me their slave and force me to dirty acts that I had seen in filthy magazines or heard from the mouths of innocent-looking girls who used their own words as a way to achieve a happy release inside their juice dampened panties.