The Switch Ch. 02 – BDSM

Like most guys, I had always planned to be the sexually dominant one in our relationship. We started dating 12 years ago. But I guess even back then there were signs. I spent a lot of time eating her pussy. I love eating her pussy. I love how she tastes. I love how much work it is, but then how satisfying it is when she cums. I love having her juice covering my face afterwards. I also remember cumming in her pussy and then going down on her for the first time. The first taste of my own cum, mixed with hers. Kind of repulsive, but I also loved the thought of it.

Those first several years, I took charge. I had straps permanently tied to the bed. She loved getting tied up and fucked hard. As we took it a little farther, we actually converted a spare bedroom into a make-shift sex dungeon. We painted it dark. I installed hooks on the ceiling and walls. We had a leather ottoman I could fuck her on. We also had a pole in the middle.

Summer was really into pole dancing back then. I’d tie her up, whip and spank her a little bit. I’d make her suck my cock, although she didn’t enjoy it much back then. And then I’d untie her, and fuck her. There wasn’t too much kinky about it in hindsight, just a different venue for the same kind of play.

The more I tried to be dominant over her though, the more she resisted. I had visions of tying her up, whipping her, leaving her waiting for hours, fucking her ass, pulling out and cumming on her face. I wanted to make her leave the house with a butt plug in, and force her to suck me off in a restaurant bathroom.

I pictured her being naked in the house, a collar around her neck. I wanted to chain her up to the wall until I felt like using her for my own pleasure. I envisioned her desperately wanting to drink my cum, whenever and wherever. The more I suggested and the more toys I bought, the more I realized that she didn’t want me to have control. She’d try to submit, but I could see she wasn’t a natural bottom. Not for me at least.

I even said to her once, “I think you need to be more fearful of whoever is dominating you.”

I can’t remember exactly how I got interested in chastity. I remember my first cage though, a common plastic one. I’d wear it for a day or two. She’d let me out, we’d have sex, and that would be it. After a few months of that, I was going on a business trip to Florida. She told me I had to wear it the entire time. I could take it off before I went through airport security, then lock myself back up with a numbered plastic lock. She would text me randomly, demanding a picture immediately. I’d have to run to a bathroom and show her my trapped dick with the same number. It was a huge turn on for me. Sleeping with it on. Going to business meetings. The desire to want it on became intoxicating. When I’d get home, I’d usually take it off, she’d let me cum or we’d have sex. And then I’d feel a little empty. Like the wave I was riding was over, and I wanted more of it.

But I was annoying with it back then. I was trying to make the rules. I was telling her what she should do. I was still trying to be in charge. She was losing interest in it, and without a willing partner to take control, what’s the point? We’d still play with it at times, but it wasn’t that exciting. Then she caught me…

She caught me jerking off as she opened the bathroom door. She was so pissed. She was about to be on her period and we hadn’t had sex for 3 weeks. Clearly this was a trigger. I stopped stroking myself and started going soft from the surprise and embarrassment.

I tried to pull my pants back up and she said, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing, I was just…,” I started to say.

She snapped back at me, “You’re going to finish. Right now. In front of me.”

I didn’t quite know if she was serious. It was in a tone I’d never heard from her before. I meekly grabbed my half-hard dick, and just gave her a quizzical look.

“Well..,” she said, “I’m waiting.”

I started pumping again, but my mind wasn’t in it. I was a little turned on by her demanding tone, but I was unsure of where this was going. She just stood there glaring at me. It took forever stroking my semi-hard dick, but I finally felt like I was getting close. I reached for the toilet paper I had gotten ready, and gave Summer a quick look.

“Uh uh,” she said, “cum in your hand.”

Her telling me to cum got me instantly hard, and as I reached my hand up, I started cumming, quickly trying to catch it all. As I finished, I looked back at her, waiting for instructions.

“Lick it up. Down there too,” she said.

I looked down at the floor where some of my cum had spilled. I sheepishly lapped up my own cum from my hand as she stared at me. Then got down on my hands and knees to lick my cum off the cold tile floor.

Summer turned around, walked out of the bathroom and said, “Now go put your cage on.”

————

I could hardly focus on anything after she left me at home. Was she seriously going to see a guy? Were they having sex? Was she lying to me about seeing her girlfriends? Was she really going to show someone that picture of me in panties and a ball gag? My mind went in a million directions. I was also incredibly turned on. It’s an amazing thing to be surprised by someone you have known so well for more than a decade. I really wanted a drink to keep my mind off the possibilities. But I knew better after her insistence. Clearly that was her plan. I sat on the couch for a while wondering if I should be angry or excited. I went through just about every iteration of what could be happening. None of which made much sense to me.

I spent the evening trying to watch a few shows, but nothing seemed that interesting. I made myself dinner, and appreciated how well I had cleaned the house. It’s not often I get time alone in a clean house anymore. I scrolled through some porn on Tumblr, but it just made me wonder what was going on with my wife even more.

It was a little after 10 that I got in bed to watch a WWII documentary before I went to sleep.

And then Summer texted…

The preview just said “goodnight,” and there was a picture attached I couldn’t quite see. As I clicked to open the pic, I saw her black dress, bra and thong lying on a rough wood floor. My heart sank.

I scanned every inch of the picture trying to find something that told me where she was and who she was with. Nothing.

I immediately texted her back. “where r u? what the hell is going on? are you cheating on me?”

I stayed up for 2 hours looking at that picture over and over. I could have called, but I knew she wouldn’t answer. She must have planned this. She wasn’t going to tell me anything. I just had to go to sleep wondering.

I woke up early the next morning. That is, I woke up for the last time, early. Between the cage waking me up as my cock tried to get hard, and the confused anxiety thinking my wife was openly cheating on me, I really didn’t sleep much. I made myself coffee and sat by the front window, waiting to see my wife pull in the driveway. I went through the entire monologue I had prepared when she walked in the door, which was just after 10am.

“Hi dear,” she said with an attitude of amusement, “how was your evening?”

“What the fuck!” I said in a rage, “how can you just….”

She stopped me with a stern, “Stop.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll let you ask me three questions, but then it’s my turn to talk, and yours to listen.”

Three questions, I said to myself. What the hell is this? But ok, I’ll play along. I ran through the million questions I had been wondering all night, trying to figure out where to start.

As I looked at her though, I became more and more disarmed. She was more beautiful than ever somehow. Her hair was slightly out of place. She had some light bruises on her wrists and ankles. She smelled a little musty, but in a sensual way. Like sweat, and a little bit of smoke. She had a casual relaxation about her, and she looked at me almost admiringly.

“Ok, first question,” I said. “Are you cheating on me?”

Get right to the point I thought. I should have known her answer wouldn’t satisfy me.

“No,” she said, “Not in the sense that I’m fucking or in love with someone else.” “Why? Would that bother you?”

She said it with a devious smile.

“Well of course it would bother me! Don’t you think we should talk about something like that?” I immediately snapped back.

“So that’s your second question?” she said.

“Umm…no…that’s not a question.”

“It sure sounded like one,” she said mockingly. Clearly she was enjoying this quite a bit.

“Ok, well where were you last night then?” I asked.

“I was at D’s place,” she said.

Obviously she was going to make this as difficult on me as possible, pissing me off in the process.

“Oh jesus,” I said. “Will you please just tell me what is going on?” I pleaded.

“Sure,” she said, and then was silent for an eternity.

“Well….?” I gave her a “will you please stop this stupid game, this is our fucking marriage we’re talking about” look.

“Ok, ok,” she said. “You don’t deserve to know, seeing as how you’re my little bitch, but I might as well tell you so you stop bothering me about it.”

“Thank you,” I said with a sigh of relief. All the while I was completely aware that I was thanking her for calling me a “little bitch” as she was about to tell me why the fuck she was naked at some guy’s house named “D.”

“It’s pretty simple, dear. So I’ll keep it short,” she said.

“I’ve been trying to live up to your fantasy for years. At first I thought it was mildly entertaining, but it was never on my terms. It wasn’t my fantasy. It was yours. But I played all of your little games, participated in the scenes. I made you do humiliating things that you liked, and on and on. It was exhausting.”

“Then I realized something. I like being in control of you. I like it that you lick my pussy when I say so. I like that you clean up the house for me. I like that you don’t get to jerk off anymore. And then I realized something else…”

I was clearly being talked down to. It’s everything I had known, but she’d never said out loud. This was my retribution for years of pushing my fantasy along, without really asking what turns her on.

After a long pause, she continued. “I want to be dominated. I want to be taken and used. I want to be made to serve. I want to be punished, whipped, and made to walk on all fours. I want to be forced to suck a stranger’s cock, swallow their cum or have 2 or 3 men use me for their pleasure. I want be the object of others’ sexual excitement.”

And then the punchline…”I just don’t want that person to be you. I like you the way you are…and clearly you like it too.”

She gave me a little half-wink as she said it, and looked down at my locked cock.

“Can you just tell me who ‘D’ is?” I asked.

“Yeah, my Dom. You know, dominant, as in bdsm. It’s actually my Dom and Domme. They’re a couple, but I hate those words. I’m their slave. Don’t be jealous though, they have several. I’ve been going to their place for months now. I told him about you by the way. They think it’s great that I have my own slave at home.”

Finally she said, “Satisfied now?,” and then walked off to the bedroom to take a shower.