A Valentine's Slut (1)
1234 Words
Summary: A young woman gets a surprise gift from her husband on valentine's day. It turns out to be a glimpse of her past life, and she finds herself pleading to be used by not one, but several strangers.
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A Valentine's Slút (Part 1)
It's 9 p.m., and I am laid completely naked on a padded bench. I’ve been bound, my hands and legs spread apart, while my wrists and ankles are pulled tight and tied. I am blindfolded, and I’m acutely aware of the cool air that caresses my bare pússy and the stiffness of my nîpples.
I tremble in excitement as I take several deep breaths, trying to get my nerves under control. Every breath feels like a countdown as I try to distract myself with my thoughts.
Moments later, I begin to hear voices and I steady myself. The door opens, and I hear people walk into the room as the door closes again.
Silence.
The room is quiet again, and I can feel eyes on my náked, willing body. I wonder whether my husband is still there with me.
"Are you willing to surrender?" A female voice asks.
I nod, "Yeah... please, Fûck me."
--Two hours earlier--
"You have no idea how long I've planned this for you.” My husband says, winking at me.
A thrill shoots through me. Hold on…let me take you back to how it all began.
It's valentine's day. My husband and I are about to embark on a s****l adventure we have been discussing for several days. We have been married for three years, and our séx life together has been exciting. We love each other deeply, and we satisfy each other.
However, a small part of me craved the thrills and danger of my previous life. Long before I got married, I was once a sèxual submissive and while in college, I had been introduced to the raw pleasures of bondage. Then, I made a living by selling hot núdes of my body and visiting a few clients to satisfy them. It was lucrative and exciting, and the thrill of surrendering my control to someone else was the sweetest part of it for me.
At some point I decided not to take the risk anymore, and so I became a high-end dominatrix. I'll tell you what this means…I finally realized I could be the one in control, and the money involved would be even greater than when I was a sub. I was happy with being a w***e until I met the perfect man and fell in love with him.
It was surprising that he knew what I did for a living at the beginning, yet he went crazy over me. He wanted me all to himself and when we got married, I had to stop being a sèxual dom, and I had s*x with only him.
To make things clear, a s****l Dom takes control of the s****l act and everything that happens in it. They’re the one who gives the orders, sets the pace, decides when and how you’re touched, or if you’re touched at all. They know how to make you ache, beg, and break… and they take pleasure in watching you come undone at their command. It’s not just about power. it’s about presence, confidence, and the ability to read your body like a book and rewrite it in the way they want.
On the other hand, a submissive, or sub, is the one who gives in, willingly. They surrender their control and trust their Dom to take them to places they can't go on their own. It’s not about being weak. It’s about craving the freedom that comes from not having to lead, just to feel, respond, obey, and be consumed.
Well…I’ve been both.
And both sides awakened different parts of me. But nothing compares to what it felt like when my husband decided to test the limits of what I used to be… and remind me who I still am beneath it all.
A few days before Valentine's Day, my husband had proposed an adventure as his Valentine's Day present to me. After some discussion, I agreed to do whatever he told me to do. I was excited to be his sub for the evening.
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"Honey," I say, "I'm ready whatever plans you have for me." I flash him my brightest smile.
"Take off your clothes." he orders.
I do that with a rush as I resist the urge to tell him that I'd prefer to have my clothes on, especially if he plans on taking me out of the house. I step out of my knee-length black gown and fling it in the bed.
As he moves towards my closet, I shoot a glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror by the wall. My blue eyes stare back at me, and I noticed how full and red my lips are. My wavy blonde hair hangs down on either side of my breàsts, almost to my waist. My eyes settleon my erect nîpples and I smile.
Damn, I am séxy!
My ass is tight and firm, and my long, slender legs meet at my bare pússy. My skin is flawless. I smile slightly with the realization that my body has not changed since I was in college.
"Put these on." My husband says, breaking into my thoughts.
I turn around and take the strappy red heels from my husband. He loves to see me náked wearing only high heels. So, I put them on the floor and step into them gracefully, giving him a show as I straighten up.
His eyes linger on my pússy for some seconds before they trail up to my face again, meeting my stare.
“You like what you see?” I tease him.
“I could bend you over, and fûck that pússy right now.” He says.
I chuckle, “okay?”
“I have better plans for you tonight, my doll.”
That name! Oh. My. Fûcking. Goodness!
I shudder as I think about how much it turns me on whenever he addresses me as his doll.
"Wear this." He says, handing me a minidress, a favorite of his. It is a soft velvet fabric, red in color. I pull it over my head and down across my hips. It is held up with spaghetti straps that tie behind my neck, and it stops halfway up my thighs.
The front plunges between my breàsts, and my nîpples poke out under the thin fabric. My toned back is bare. The shapes of my legs are visible when the light shines from behind me. I look at my husband, and it is obvious he is enjoying what he sees.
I smile, “You like this look, don't you?”
“You'd look better with this” he says as he picks up a brown leather collar from the table. I'm surprised that I never noticed it lying there. He moves behind me and puts the collar around my neck. It is thin and outfitted with small rings at intervals. He fastens it and we look in the mirror together, as he remains behind me.
This is something new for us, and I give him a questioning look.
“Honey, tell me. What's going on?” I ask.
- Writer
