This is my story of how I was introduced to domestic discipline, how it made me a better woman, how it changed my life and how I came to enjoy it. I had a strong urge to share my experiences with someone and I chose you, dear readers.
I am 34 years old and until about a year ago I really was not enjoying my life.
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My wife and I have been married for almost twelve years. While I love her deeply, our sex life has become somewhat boring. She's a stay-at-home mom to our two children and our sex life has become a routine of "put the kids to bed, turn out the lights, and be quick about it".
That was until recently, when our sex life changed for the better.
In the last few weeks, my wife has begun working out on one of those big inflatable exercise balls.
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Pete's heart was racing. He had not felt this thrill and overwhelming enthralment of sexual excitement since early teenage exploration of his burgeoning but as then unrequited sexuality. Adrenalin was coursing through his veins, his heightened state causing his hands to shake involuntarily as they cupped the young woman's' buttocks through her cotton panties.
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I feel that you reach a certain stage in your life when you feel like, and need, a change. I suppose that is what happened to us. Sally and I had both reached our late forties and our children had flown the nest and left home for college. Our life was reasonably content, we loved each other, we had a nice house and both had good professional jobs which paid well.
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Sarah and John had a typical marriage. Both average in every way. Average household income, average three bedroom house in the average suburban neighborhood of the average American city. And now, done raising their average three children and putting them through college.
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Picture me if you can, wearing nothing but a vest and boxers, handcuffed by my wrists and ankles to all four corners of Salima's luxurious 5 star hotel room bed, and blindfolded with precisely 3 pairs of her unwashed stockings. Needless to say, I've certainly looked better. At this point, I was starting to have real reservations about the woman's sanity because just who brings 2 pairs of handcuffs along with them on a business trip?
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I recently traveled to London for a conference. Rather than paying the normal ridiculous prices charged for hotels in London I made contact with some old school friends and asked if I could stay with them. They readily agreed; always keen to meet up with friends from “home”.
Geoff and Linda were the ideal couple; they had been going out since early in High School. They were both very good at every sport they tried, both very good academically and both very good looking.
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The phone rang midmorning on Saturday, and I heard Darla's excited voice. It must be a friend, I thought to myself. After the conversation, she came hopping into the other room and said that some friends from college were in town for the weekend and she invited them (Virginia and Bridget) to come over and stay the night.
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He had seen her several times before. She came into the shop, browsed around. However, he had always been with a customer or on the phone. She had always made her choices, paid for them, and left before he had a chance to even say hello. She walked out the door and out of his life dozens of times and he was always left disappointed.
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I woke up when some fluid hit my face, then I smelt it. It was piss. Where the hell was I? Then two parts of darkness parted and I saw a face looking at me.
"Bonjour bonjour. En plein de vos la bouche je vous en prie."
So I opened my mouth and the piss squirted in. I just had to gulp it down. It tasted salty, I had forgotten the taste.
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