My husband made me a queening chair for my birthday. We enjoyed using it for a femdom weekend on our anniversary. An unintentional revelation gave me an opportunity to create an extra birthday surprise for him.

The weekend between our anniversary and his birthday, I hosted my bridge group, eight of us who were members of the Sigma Eta Delta Gamma sorority in college. Traditionally, the husband of the hostess would handle the refreshments while we played, and Jim was happy to help.

Kate was dummy in one hand and needed to make a phone call, so I suggested she use our game room since everyone was in the living room and noisy. Two hours and more than a few drinks later, she was one of my opponents and was probably just trying to distract me when she asked, “What’s that funny chair in your game room?”

The other six women—and Jim—were suddenly silent. We had moved my throne into a corner and covered it with a blanket. Apparently, Kate had been curious and discovered it. I couldn’t tell if she had deduced its true purpose, so I didn’t know if I could make up a plausible lie. With all eyes on me, I decided to tell the truth, at least part of it.

I stood up and announced, “Everyone, please put your cards down.”

From the kitchen door, Jim looked helpless and shrugged, but then mouthed, “I love you,” to me, and smiled bravely.

“Sisters of Sigma Eta Delta Gamma,” I spoke gravely, “before I answer Kate’s question, you must all swear not to divulge the answer to anyone, not even—and especially—to your husbands.” In accordance with our sorority ritual, I placed the first two fingers of my right hand over my heart and the middle three fingers of my left hand to my forehead.

My husband was mesmerized as my seven friends, laughing and talking moments earlier, soberly stood and attained the same posture. As they did, he took a quiet step back into the kitchen so only I would see him.

“Do you each promise to treat this as a Secret of the Sisterhood?” I intoned.

“I so promise,” the others said in unison.

I sat down and so did they. You could hear a pin drop.

“My wonderful, loving, and skillful husband, as a fortieth birthday present, made me a queening chair,” I said.

There were a few gasps. Not understanding, Holly said, “What?”

Kate interjected, “For facesitting,” with an obscene squirm of her hips that made Holly blush.

“I am so lucky that Jim loves to please me and wants to make me comfortable in the process,” I continued.

Some mumbled positive comments, some sighed wistfully, some just looked at their cards glumly.

“Since we all had to promise, Pam, don’t you think we should all get a good look at it?” Kate loved to stir things up. “I only got a peek under the blanket.”

I no longer doubted that she had figured it out immediately. She had been alone in the room long enough to give it a thorough inspection.

“Let’s get this over with so we can get back to playing cards,” I conceded. “Nobody touch anything. I’m working on a grand slam.” I was even more determined to beat Kate.

They followed me into the room. Moving the chair to where they could see it, I removed the blanket. We had stowed everything else, so it was just an easy chair with an unexpected gap in the seat and a padded headrest below. Nonetheless, I think my seven friends were all imagining sitting in it, whether they were thinking of their husbands or mine or someone else underneath.

“Remember your oath,” I said, repeating the pose. I hoped that our long tradition would be enough to suppress their desire to talk about it. We all knew secrets about each other protected by that same ritual.

For my husband’s birthday a week later, we had prime tickets and backstage passes to a concert of his favorite band. The lead guitarist had auctioned off one of his instruments for charity and I secretly bought it. He autographed it for Jim after the concert.

It was a great evening and Jim loved his present. We both got a little drunk hanging with the band and their entourage until well after midnight.

We made a wrong turn finding our way out and ended up at the stage. It was pitch dark except for the glowing exit signs in the distance.

“Is anyone here?” I said to the echoing darkness. There was no answer, so I decided my sudden crazy idea wasn’t so crazy.

It’s rock and roll, I thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

The equipment was still set up since the band had another show the next day. I led Jim to the microphone in front and had him pose with his guitar. The flash on my phone gave just enough light to make it seem like he could have been performing: him, well-lit in the foreground; drums, amps, and other equipment, dimly lit in the background. I took a bunch of pics as he mimed with the guitar.

“One more,” I said. I took him a little by surprise in the dark when I hugged him and the guitar, giving him a long, deep kiss.

“Happy Birthday, my rock star,” I said.

Without another word, I dropped to my knees in front of him and fumbled for his zipper. I only had to shush him once; it wasn’t a situation many men would complain about. Despite the dark, I managed to unfasten his belt and unbutton his pants. By the time I grabbed his cock, it was ready for action.

I slurped it noisily. In the dark silence, it seemed like the whole auditorium would be able to know what we were doing, but as far as we knew, there were no ears to hear. For fun, I snapped a few selfies, trying to include enough to show what we were doing and where we were doing it.

With hands and lips, I pumped and sucked him to full stiffness. My tongue made every inch of it slippery. His cock is the perfect fit for me. I could feel the head in the back of my throat when the tight ring of my lips reached his balls.

Steadying each other with his hands on my head and mine on his hips, he began to get louder. In case there might be a watchman doing rounds, I didn’t want to dawdle, so I turned everything up to eleven.

Jim’s legs were weakening so I knew he was close, but he courteously growled “I’m gonna cum.” I took him deep, my tongue polishing the underside of his shaft as my lips sealed around it.

Struggling not to cough when the first spurt hit the back of my throat, I swallowed as I sucked, keeping it all inside. I thought Jim might stumble and worried about accidentally biting him, but he stabilized as I drained the last of it.

I warned him again to be quiet, but between the euphoria and the alcohol, it took a yank on his tender, softening, dick to get his attention. Finally quiet, we heard a distant door open and close and had to suppress our giggles. In the dark, it was much harder to pull his pants back up than it had been to lower them, but we eventually managed. We snickered our way off the stage and out of the auditorium.

The next day, I made him his favorite dinner, since the concert prevented us from having our traditional celebration.

“It’s called Sexual Sensory Deprivation,” I explained as we finished our dessert. “You block off sight and hearing to make touch, taste, and smell more intense.”

I told him about this new game I had found and wanted to try it on him. My reasons for using the throne were admittedly weak, but I tried to distract him with details.

“You’ll put on a blindfold and headphones so you can’t see or hear anything. I will draw one of these cards and do what it says,” I explained. “The Sensation Cards have an instruction, the number of seconds to do it, then the number of seconds to wait before drawing another card.”

I showed him a few cards:

She rubs his abdomen 60 60.

She tickles his left foot 30 60.

She slowly strokes his penis 60 120.

That last one got his interest, but I didn’t show more so he wouldn’t know what to expect.

“These have you smell different things,” I continued. “I will tap your nose, then you should sniff.”

She puts perfume on her wrist and lets him sniff 15 30.

She takes a drink of wine then exhales in his face 30 60.

She farts close enough for him to smell it 15 15.

“Don’t worry,” I laughed at the mock-horrified expression on his face. “It’s your birthday, so I won’t use that one. I just want you to know there is a wide range of possibilities.”

“For these, I will tap your lips so you open your mouth and taste,” I showed him the third category.

She dips a finger in chocolate sauce and he licks it off 30 60.

She gives him a beverage he has never had before 30 60.

She lets him suck one of her nipples 30 60.

“Under my throne, you’re in a position where you can swallow without choking. You seem to have enjoyed your time there, so far.” He had to grin, recalling our recent adventures. “Also, since the time between cards varies, it will let you get comfortable and help make the next sensation be a surprise.” I knew it sounded contrived, but the fact that I was doing it for his birthday made it difficult for him to refuse.

“It has a lot of very positive reviews, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it if you give it a chance,” I continued the sales pitch as we undressed and walked to the game room. “It starts slowly, so you just need to be patient and wait for things to happen. Focus on each sensation as it occurs and reflect on it until the next one arrives.”

He had his face below the opening and his body out in front of the chair. As I put the blindfold on him, I reminded him, “Don’t talk, don’t move, just let go and experience it.”

I bent to kiss him long and hard, letting him taste my tongue, smell my breath, and feel my fingers on his cheeks. Perhaps I had gone overboard, but I was getting excited—not just in a sexual way—that my ruse was going to work, and I was sure he would love it.

“Oh, by the way, Jim,” I said in a normal speaking voice after I fit the headphones over his ears and stood up. He didn’t react, so I concluded they muffled sound well enough.

Counting ten breaths before I started, I knelt next to him.

She lightly rubs his chest 60 60.

He twitched when my fingers first touched his chest as I massaged it. When the time was up, I hurried into the kitchen to collect the other things I had prepared to use for this gambit.

She lets him smell freshly cut fruit 30 30.

I used an orange.

She tickles a non-sexual part of his body with her hair 60 60.

I draped my shoulder-length hair over his thigh.

She gives him a taste of his favorite condiment 30 30.

Barbecue sauce.

At this point, I knew things were going to get more interesting—because I had made it all up!

Inspired by games for lovers I had seen, I constructed this particular variant, making cards and printing what appeared to be rules at the local business service store. Rather than following the random instructions of this supposed game, I was performing a script from a sequence of cards I had written.

She slowly teases his penis with her tongue 120 120.

His dick was soft and flopped to the side as I leaned over it. He jolted a bit as my nose unavoidably touched it, but my main implement was my tongue, which I applied to the seam of his testicles. Each second, I moved it back and forth, also moving upward toward the head excruciatingly slowly. I wanted to take a whole minute to reach the tip.

Jim sighed. Thirty seconds in, I was halfway up his shaft, his organ growing firmer. After fifteen seconds on his head, I restarted at his balls for the second pass. His hard cock made it easier.

When I finished, he exhaled—he had been holding his breath at the end. I assumed any reluctance he had about this game was fading.

Continuing this way with a variety of invented cards and variable pauses, I gradually became more sexual, more often. After giving him a few sips of a new local beer, I used my boobs to jerk his cock for a minute. He was staying relatively hard most of the time.

His foot jerked as I dragged my nails across his sole; he usually wasn’t very ticklish, but the circumstances made him sensitive. Then things got a little riskier. After a suitable delay, I moved above him and lowered myself toward his face. With my tap on his nose, he took a big whiff of my scent, which was blooming as my arousal had risen with his. I made sure to stay safely out of range of his misbehaving tongue.

After I moved away from him, I silently slipped out of the room to get his real surprise. I had left the front door unlocked and she had come in and made herself a stiff drink—it looked like at least a double.

Vicki was not the friend my husband might expect to be doing this, but she was who I ran into the day after the bridge club. She reported a dream she had had the night before.

“Jim was blindfolded. All eight of us took turns on the throne until he could tell who was who,” she said. A pale redhead, she blushed quite red. She leaned close to whisper, “If it could be kept just between the nine of us, I might just do it!”

We laughed it off, but it planted a seed. After working out the details, I met her for coffee to sketch out this proposal to trick him and the idea of the game to keep him from knowing it was her. Late that night, probably after some time to have a few drinks and to think about it, she texted me that she would do it.

Her eyes were wide as she saw Jim in position, his rigid pole dripping with his arousal. I gestured to a chair for her to get undressed as I moved to perform the next card. Kneeling between his legs, I took his cockhead in my mouth. Not going too deep, I swirled my tongue around the head, getting a taste of his precum. He was moaning softly by the end of thirty seconds.

Naked, Vicki approached and watched with interest, sipping the dark liquid in her glass.

“Are you ready?” I asked when I rose and stepped away from him.

She gulped down the rest of her drink and nodded.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “he can’t hear us. It’s your turn after this.”

Dabbing a drop of one of my perfumes on my wrist, I tapped his nose and gave him a whiff. I figured he would remember the card, and the scent would make him less likely to notice any difference between Vicki and me.

After a usual wait, I directed her to sit on my throne. As we had rehearsed, she tapped his lips as she moved into position and my husband opened his mouth to taste her pussy.

I could practically read his mind by his movements. His first reaction was obvious delight that we had progressed to this event in the game. He wouldn’t expect that it wasn’t me that he was licking. Then he realized something was amiss, and that was his second reaction.

Vicki kept her pussy shaved. After a few seconds of licking, Jim must have noticed because he stopped. She looked at me, worried but, as I predicted, after a moment’s pause and some kissing of the area to confirm his impression, he resumed with gusto. I was sure that he had decided that I had shaved myself to surprise him.

After a minute, I almost had to pull her off my throne as she was enjoying herself so much. We hugged each other trying not to laugh too loudly.

But there was more to the plan.

A one-minute hand-job had him fucking air when I left him right on the edge. Thirty seconds of feeding him my nipples. Forty-five seconds of a vibrator on his taint.

Then it was time for me to take my seat. As before, he immediately began to lick. It took longer for him to stop this time, but I knew he would be trying to decide if he somehow had imagined the previous hairlessness.

“What—?” he started to say, but I smothered him with my pussy, grinding and denying him a chance to breathe so he was gasping when I relented.

He tried again to speak, but I pinched his nose and covered his mouth with the fingers and palm of one hand and lifted an earpiece with the other.

“No talking, just feel,” I sang, reminding him of the rules before putting it back in place and letting him breathe.

His body quaked in frustration, but he was so turned on, I figured he would settle down. I sucked and pinched his nipples for thirty seconds.

His confusion would soon be over. After a minute pause, I stood astride his body and lowered myself onto his cock. His groan as I engulfed him probably chased any misgivings from his mind. Leaning forward, I rode him slowly, feeling his hips meet my rhythm. The delicious penetration made me momentarily lose track of the plan.

Vicki approached, reminding me of the next step. I gestured for her to take her seat for the final reveal of the plot. Jim’s cry of surprise when she did was muffled by the warm damp pussy over his mouth. His body stiffened for a few seconds, but with his cock in one cunt and his tongue in the other, he resigned to his fate—or luck.

I tried not to stare, but I had rarely seen Vicki naked, and never like this. Because she was at a higher level, it was hard to miss her folds on my husband’s mouth. Thinner than me, her breasts were higher and firmer than mine. With her fair complexion, it was easy to see her excitement: her cheeks and chest flushed pink; her plump nipples, coral; and her glistening pussy lips, fuchsia.

She stared over me, her hands on her breasts, lost in her building excitement. It made me self-conscious as I realized my fingers were already pinching my nipples. The chair separated her from my husband and her higher level separated her from me—but not completely.

Jim for his part was going crazy. If not for the constraint of the chair, he would certainly have thrashed one of us off him, the way his body writhed. My attempts to slow him down just made him thrust up into me harder. Relishing my successful scheme, I was riding high emotionally as well as sexually, feeling as turned on as he was. It was hard to tell which of us would peak first.

Vicki surprised me by beating us both. Despite my husband’s skill and enthusiasm, I thought their mutual unfamiliarity might reduce her response. Perhaps the novelty of the whole situation—the throne, Jim eating her, and her watching us fuck—combined to accelerate her past us.

She gasped, shuddered, and leaned forward, almost silently. Her body froze with beautiful tension as she let Jim’s talented lips complete the job. How had he known she was about to climax without seeing or hearing her? Maybe there was something valid about this game!

Even muffled by her crotch, I recognized my husband’s groans and knew he would place second. As his body bucked beneath me, I joined him in ecstasy.

When the primal elation of my orgasm began to recede I felt a more intellectual thrill at the successful win-win-win result. Vicki, too, returned to consciousness and we both began to laugh at the trick we had played. Jim was overwhelmed at the moment, but I knew he wouldn’t be for long.

“You should go,” I warned my friend. She quickly got up and put her clothes on, watching for any sign that Jim might peek. I reassured her, putting my hands to my heart and forehead. Naked, impaled by a still twitching dick, it did not convey the usual solemnity.

I waited to hear the front door close before I lifted off of my husband. Guiding him to slide out of the chair, I gently uncapped his ears and removed the blindfold. As I kissed him, I realized I was tasting Vicki on his lips.

“Happy Birthday, my love, my husband,” I cooed.

Standing and pulling him to his feet, I led us to our bed where we could cuddle in comfort. We kissed and stroked each other for a few minutes—I was surprised Jim was able to restrain himself that long.

“Who was that?” he finally blurted out.

“It is a Secret of the Sisterhood,” I explained seriously. “She only agreed to be a part of this special gift to you if you never found out. You know the likely candidates. They are all dear friends, they all have husbands, and whoever it was isn’t going to tell hers. We shared something wonderful with her. That has to be enough.”

Jim had always treated my friends politely but, from that day on, his manner toward them warmed considerably, even to Kate, who could be difficult at times. Conversely, their knowledge of my throne yielded newfound respect for my husband, even from Kate.

“Did you think I had shaved my pussy?” I was curious how well my subterfuge had worked. “When did you know there was another woman?”

“Oh… well…” he teased, then retorted, “that is a Secret of the Brotherhood!”

Sunday morning, I woke before him and slipped out of bed to prepare from scratch two of his favorite things for breakfast: smoked salmon quiche and cinnamon rolls. When they were baking, I warmed some towels and went into the bedroom. The aromas or the noise had roused him, so he smiled when he saw me with the towels.

“Good morning, my love,” I said. “Would you like to take a shower?”

He was happy to let me pamper him the way he had me two weeks earlier. As he got dressed, I returned to the kitchen to complete breakfast.

“I laid out some clothes for you,” he said as he took his seat. “I hope you’re in the mood for a little bondage.”

“Yes, master,” I said, guessing the roles for the day as I poured his coffee.”

“Oh, I’m not fond of fancy titles,” he replied. “‘Dear husband’ will do.”

“Thank you, dear husband,” I said. “Would you like anything else before I get dressed?”

He looked skeptically at what I had served him, and I knew he was recalling how I had required him to remake my breakfast. But these items were special and took hours to prepare, so whatever else I would make would not be as good.

His grin told me I had outmaneuvered him as he growled, “This will do.”

I hurried to the bedroom and laughed to see what he had selected. It wasn’t a chastity cage, but it might have been as tight. He found a sexy lingerie set we hadn’t used in a while. The corset had a quarter-cup top, which essentially put my breasts on a shelf, leaving my areolas fully exposed. As much as my boobs would jiggle, nothing else would, as the gaudy red garment was tight from there to my hips. I wouldn’t be taking a lot of deep breaths.

There were stockings, garters, and high heel shoes as is traditional. He had omitted the matching panties, which I assumed was intentional. Reinforcing the bondage theme, there was a collar connected by a jewelry chain to two nipple clamps. Attaching them last, the lengths left little slack. If I turned my head or my boobs sloshed around as I walked, there would be continual tugs on my nipples.

Returning to the dining room, I realized that my jiggling as I walked was at least as comical as Jim’s had been with the chastity device. Presenting myself for inspection, he tested that everything was fastened tight enough.

“I’m going to play some video games,” he announced when he had finished eating. “Clean up and prepare some snacks for later.”

I liked that he watched me as I clacked and jiggled into the kitchen. Finishing up an hour later, I went to see if he wanted more coffee. He was in the middle of a feverish battle, so I stood silently until he had a break.

“Would my dear husband like anything?” I asked.

He reached around my ass to pull me close, giving each cheek a hearty squeeze.

“I won’t be much longer,” he said. “I want to finish teaching these noobs a lesson. I told them I could beat them playing one-handed!” He laughed and slipped his fingers between my cheeks to tickle my pussy, making me jump from the sudden move.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them what I’m doing with my other hand!” he giggled. He cupped my vulva gently, his fingers toying with my pubic curls while his other hand worked the controller. I couldn’t tell if he was seriously planning to play that way.

Withdrawing his hand, he gave one cheek a playful slap and sent me to get his coffee as he focused on the screen, taunting the other players through his headset.

After another hour, he decided to give his hand a rest and we adjourned to watch TV. He had queued up several episodes of his cult-favorite science fiction series, not my cup of tea. He welcomed me to sit next to him, taking advantage of my exposed parts. A few minutes into the episode, he revealed his intent.

The same way I had teased him about the chick-flick we watched, he began to test my knowledge of his show. Do you know what planet those aliens are from? Why can’t they use the hyperdrive to get away? Whenever I got anything wrong, I’d get a pinch or poke and a lecture. By the third episode, I had learned to recognize aliens by their makeup and prostheses.

After some snacks, we watched a new blockbuster movie and I paid close attention to enjoy it with him. Fortunately, it wasn’t a sequel, so there was no backstory I was missing. It had a damsel-in-distress physicist—all female scientists wear high heels, short skirts, and tight, half-open blouses, don’t they? Of course, the bad guy tied her up sexily before brainwashing her to betray the good guy. Fortunately, her love for the hero allowed her to break her programming just in the nick of time. How many clichés can one movie have?

We had been sipping wine and cuddling for the second half of the film, despite my odd apparel.  He kissed me deeply as the credits ran, then got to his feet and helped me to mine.

“Well, Professor Pam,” he addressed me sternly, “since you have discovered my plan, I have no choice but to take control of your mind.”

“Never!” I said defiantly, playing along.

“We’ll see how long you can keep your sanity,” he said evilly. He pinned my arms behind my back and forced me to the game room. In those heels, I was just trying not to fall over. He deposited me on the throne and quickly bound me to it. Using our easy-fasten restraint straps, he wrapped my wrists to the arms of the throne. Loops around my shoulder and armpit pinned me against the back. More straps tied my feet—still in high heels—and knees—spread wide—to the legs of the chair.

Busy watching my husband bind me and mock-struggling against the process, I had not considered that the virtue of the throne was now a danger. The opening below the seat left my intimate area vulnerable.

“The drug that I slipped into your wine is working its way to your brain, making you more excited,” he taunted. Of course, the alcohol was having that effect, too. “Soon, I will apply my Orgasmizer to your helpless body. You will not be able to resist, and when your climax floods your brain with dopamine, it will turn you into a love automaton.”

“You will become a slave to the next person you see,” he did his best wicked laugh, placing the blindfold over my eyes. Playing my part, I tested my fetters. As much as I might writhe, I wasn’t getting loose.

“Yow!” I yelled, feeling a sharp pain in my right nipple. It was an overreaction because of the surprise, but he had yanked the clamp off. Moments later, his moist tongue and soft lips soothed it. I was enjoying the warm feelings that his gentle sucking spread when he ripped off the other one. Again, there was a spark of pain that was eased when his mouth moved to the other side.

Finished with my breasts, he moved away. Blind and immobile, I got my own taste of sensory deprivation as I tried to hear what he was doing. I flinched when his finger touched my thigh above my stocking but relaxed as it tickled the exposed skin. It wandered into my crotch, exploring my patch of fur. He gently stroked my vulva, tracing the split, lightly probing until I gasped when he zeroed in on my clit.

“Ah, there it is. Your pleasure center. The shortcut to your brain,” he mused as he fingered my folds. Whether wife or professor, I was getting turned on and couldn’t hide it.

“Do you know what this is?” he menaced. I could feel something firm against my genitals but didn’t recognize it from the contact. He added some lubricant so it would slide against my tender flesh. It had an odd shape.

Suddenly, I realized what it was—the high-tech vibrator I had purchased with him at the mall on our anniversary weekend. I hadn’t even opened the box. Designed for hands-free female gratification, the “C”-shaped device was longer and thinner on one end and wider and shorter on the other. When the long part was inserted into the vagina, the wide part nestled against the clitoris. The long end was even curved to seek the g-spot.

Teasing my opening with the well-lubed tip, he eased it into me. It began a gentle pulsing as he worked it deeper. The penetration reached its limit when the other part pressed against my inner lips. That part came to life with a familiar buzzing that woke up my clit.

I squirmed as he adjusted the position. When properly placed, it would tend to stay there. Satisfied, he let it go. The vibrations from the two ends began to change independently. As the salesman had explained, he could control it manually, use one of the autopilot patterns, or create a custom pattern. Whichever technique he chose, it began to work its magic on my pussy.

He moved away, apparently happy with it. I was getting happier with every change as the two ends danced with different rhythms, sometimes synchronized, sometimes syncopated.

“You won’t resist the Orgasmizer for long,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “Then you’ll be mine forever.”

My voice caught as I protested, “Never!” That clever throbbing buzzing gizmo was going to turn me to the dark side. I tried to put on a show of pulling on my restraints, but my cooch was demanding all my attention and my wriggling just made it tingle more.

“Yes, lovely,” he said, and I swear I heard his lips smack as he returned to my breasts, apparently attracted by their motion as I struggled. My swollen nipples were conspiring with my genitals to get me close to orgasm and defeat. His fingers mashed the soft orbs while his lips chewed the firm tips.

Whether planned or based on my rapid excitement, the intensity was reduced and he abandoned my chest. In response to my sad whimper, he teased, “No, professor, not yet. We have to build up to full strength to make the control permanent.”

The character wanted the stimulation to stop, but the actress had a different opinion. Rotating through different patterns from almost too sharp to barely detectable, it kept us both frustrated.

The villain was silent. Was he watching me from across the room or leering from inches away? Sightless, the only sense of time was the cycle of vibration, floating me on gentle gusts of pleasure.

“Hey!” I yelped. Something had poked my anus. Distracted by a crescendo of buzzing and throbbing between my legs, I hadn’t noticed his silent approach from behind under the chair.

“Since you resist, I’ll have to use stronger measures,” he cackled from below. He pressed the tip between my cheeks, teasing my pucker.

It was completely unexpected and for a moment I considered using our default safeword—calling his full first, middle, and last name, as your parents might have when you misbehaved. Without any warning or preparation, I worried he could encounter something embarrassing back there.

The initial shock faded as the probe spread its lubrication and slid across and around my rear entrance, expanding the burgeoning heat from my front. My love and trust of my husband reasserted itself.  He knew the risks; I would go along with him.

“No, you monster, not that!” my in-character response conveyed my willingness. Intentional or not, the provocation had enhanced my method acting. I thrashed about, building my tension and no doubt entertaining him.

When he pushed it against my opening, I realized Jim had warmed the dildo as well as greased it. The pulsing in my cunt helped me relax and before long the bulbous head popped past my sphincter. Slowly insinuating its way upward, it dissolved all reluctance, voluntary and involuntary.

I wished I could have seen Jim’s face under the chair as he played out his fantasy. My performance would not win any awards, but his approval was all I cared about.

Finally achieving the penetration he wanted, he slowly fucked my ass with the veiny, ridged, phallus, the texture tickling my orifice as it slid in and out. Without seeing it, I could not be certain, but I thought it must be the dildo from the strapon I made him help me buy. He was getting his retribution. The motion became synchronized with the vibrations and I had no more ability or desire to prevent it. This crescendo would be the last.

“You bastard!” I groaned, as my body convulsed. “You win!”

The sweet spasm jerked my muscles, futilely pulling against the bonds. The constraints bottlenecked my orgasm, keeping me quivering as the high-pressure pleasure sought its escape. Instead of a bang, it was a long dissonant train whistle, vibrating every bone. My breathy moans were hardly in protest, and I was not a good enough actress to hide the elation I was feeling

Jim let me enjoy it then had his Orgasmizer wind down before he gently wiggled it off my sensitive clit and out of my soggy cunt. When he withdrew the dildo, somehow my rectum went from feeling too full to feeling too empty.

Floating in the afterglow, I hardly noticed Jim quickly unfastening my restraints. My body limp, he lifted me and carried me to our bedroom.

“Look upon your master,” he proclaimed as he laid me down and removed my blindfold. “Now you are mine forever!”

Blinking my eyes open, I saw that he had removed his clothes at some point. His eyes, mouth, and cock looked at me hungrily.

“Yes master, I am yours forever,” I said, trying to sound like a love automaton, but I’m afraid it came out too sincerely.

“Roll over,” he ordered, and I got on my hands and knees, guessing how he wanted me. In the mirror, I saw him slather lube on his rod as he knelt between my feet. With my butthole already slick and recently plumbed, he slid in easily.

Lowering my head to the mattress, I welcomed his deep penetration. I didn’t want to just give him my body, I wanted him to take it. After a few long, smooth strokes came the first real thrust; my ass cheeks absorbed it with the sound of a slap.

Grabbing my hips for leverage, he pulled me to him as much as drove into me. His thrusts became faster, shorter, harder. I felt his strength in his grip and the impact of his body against mine. As he found his pace, I rocked in counterpoint, each jolt rippling through my body.

Our eyes met in the closet door mirror, not husband and wife but villain and automaton, lion and lioness. Thought faded as we regressed to primeval behavior and sensation. We shared no words of love only grunts and moans.

His rhythm broke as he cried out, his final jabs controlled by his spurting into my ass. When he had no more to pump, he ground his warm body against my soft spheres. Leaning forward, he flattened me to the mattress, cocooning me between his lumpy weight and the bed. His penis twitched with aftershocks in the clench of my asshole.

In a while, we would get up. I’d strip off my silly costume. We’d clean up and cuddle between fresh sheets and drift off to sleep.

Until that time, though, I would feel inappropriately joyful—imprisoned, owned, grateful. Immobile, his cock piercing my butt like a pin through a butterfly in a collection, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

So we concluded our special month. We would give my throne a rest for a while but would use it again when I was feeling lazy or he needed to be put in his place or we wanted to find some new way to use it.