Walkie Talkie
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We Need To Talk free porn video
We Need to Talk
By knightlyDevotion
Chapter 1
Desperate longing, desperate sexual desire course through my veins,
consume me. A montage of images and scenes flood my mind, uncontrolled
by me...controlling me. Strong hands push me over a table. Memories so
fresh I can feel the penetration, my face pressed against the cold hard
table, helpless to stop it, helpless to make it last longer. Leather
restraints locked to cold hard steel keep me in place while a cruel crop
bites into my tender flesh. Creamy thighs accentuated by a sexy skirt and
oh so sexy shoes walking away from me, until all I'm left with is a view
of the bars against the empty room and a desperate craving for her
return. The sound of deep breathing as a tongue slithers in creamy folds.
Soft leather stroking tender flesh...please. Soft tender lips
passionately, lovingly kissing...a shoe. The image of a gold key against
black nylon turns me into a wanton slut. Oh my god what I wouldn't do to
rub one out, please...Please...PLEASE!
I stop cutting the vegetables and drop the knife on the cutting board. My
hand reaches for "her silly little dicklette" in a futile attempt to
remove the cause of the pain; a cold steel plate protects my wife's
property from unauthorized hands. After the electricity stops surging
through her silly little dicklette I quickly wipe my hands and scurry to
the living room where my wife is sitting, still dressed in her office
clothes. I can't help but notice her well tanned cleavage perfectly
framed by her white blouse as I walk towards her. I lower my eyes, past
incredible thighs encased in black nylons, to her sculptured calves - her
muscles highlighted by the nylons. I curtsy before taking my place at her
side, standing at attention with my head bowed and my gaze centered on
her shoes.
My wife...my beautiful wife. She's more than I could ever wish for and
definitely more than I can handle. She's both beautiful and incredibly
intelligent. She was an honor student and athlete in high school playing
volleyball and softball. She majored in businesses and minored in
psychology at college. She is the epitome of every thing I've ever wanted
in a woman, everything I've ever desired.
After a very long pause my wife states, "We need to talk."
I quickly mince to the hall closet and retrieve my 'conversation chair' -
a child's pink hardwood stool that I sit on when we 'talk'. I place the
stool inches from her crossed legs and kneel facing her with the stool
between us, and wait with my eyes on the dildo.
"Proceed."
I lower my face to the stool and proceed to deep-throat the large dildo
mounted on the stool. I have as much time as she allows to get as much of
my spit on the dildo as possible before I take my seat.
"Have a seat," she says way too soon.
After I pull my mouth off of the dildo I'm forced to to acknowledge how
ridicules I look as I notice my lipstick marks at the base her cock (I
have a standing order to call all the dildos she's bought to violate me
"her cock", the thing between my legs I must call "her silly little
dicklette"). I think about what my lips must look like as I pull down my
panties and let them rest at my ankles. I struggle as I try to balance
myself on my stilettos. My eyes meekly look up to hers while I lower
myself onto her cock. I grunt and groan as the hard rubber violates me.
My wife looks down at me dispassionately as I struggle to sit; my thighs
and calf's burn as they try to support my weight. It doesn't take nearly
as long as it used to for my stretched ass to accept this violation,
however this period of looking into her eyes has not lost a single ounce
of humiliation. Why does this have to be the only time I'm allowed
(ordered actually) to stare into her eyes.
She takes a sip of her sparkling water with a fresh lime and asks me
softly, "How long has it been since you've last had a cummie?"
"Seventy three days ma'am."
It's so hard to stare up into her eyes as I struggle with my humiliation.
"How many cummies have you had this year?" she asks softly.
"Two ma'am."
It's 5 fucking months into the year and I've only had two cummies! She
likes to drive home the reality of my deprivation at key points in our
relationship. She knows my mind will remember those rare events and I'll
be reminded they weren't even real orgasms, but perfectly ruined orgasms.
She has, with my help, perfected the ruined orgasm. She knows the exact
time to remove her gloved hand, her foot, or whatever else she's using,
to cause me to squirt with the least amount of satisfaction...
"We're going to play a little game," my wife says playfully as she
dangles a strange looking strap before my face. My arms and legs are
locked securely to my bed and I'm in no position to say we're not
playing.
As she begins wrapping the device around my scrotum she begins to
describe the game in a very upbeat and playful way, "I'm going to stroke
my silly little dicklette, and you get to enjoy it. If you feel like
you're going to make a cummies then you just say please."
She's talking like a high school girl, so sweet and perky.
"If I let go and you don't make a cummies then your little balls don't
get zapped." she says with a giggle.
She shows me the dial on her remote control and I see it's set to 3.
"If I let go and you make a cummies then I press this little button while
you make your cummies." she says, still talking like a little girl.
"HOLY FUCK!!!!"
"FUCK!!!....STOP!!!!! AAAAHHH!!!"
Fuck that hurt!! I'll never let that fucking happen ever again! I'll say
please way before I ever feel like cumming! I feel the sweat begin to
pour from me from stark raging fear. She moves her gloved hand to my cock
and begins to gently stroke it. I feel the overwhelming sensations begin
to well between my legs as my body instinctively drives itself to
satisfaction. Oh my god that feels so fucking good!
"But if I stroke you two more times and you don't make a cummies I'll
press the button even longer," as I see her beautiful thumb push ever so
gently on the button.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!! AAAAHHH!!!! NO NO NO!!! STOP!!!!" I scream and writhe
desperately trying to free myself from my bonds.
It's only when she finally releases the button that I stop my violent
seizure and begin gasping for air. My whole being is filled with nothing
but fear after the pain I just felt in my most delicate region. God!!! I
will do whatever I can to never...ever...feel anything like that again!
When I'm finally able to open my eyes I see my wife's beautiful smiling
face directly above mine. She brings the remote into view, and, with her
beautiful thumb, slowly and effortlessly moves the dial to 6.
"Shall we begin?" She says smiling as she starts slowly stroking my
cock... her well manicured finger of her free hand on the button....
She raises her crossed leg placing the sole of her shoe in front of my
lips. I gently and lovingly kiss the part of her she has offered me: the
filthy sole of her shoe. I try not to imagine the places she's been or
the things she may have stepped in with these shoes. My hand
instinctively rises to cradle her heel while my mind flashes images of
her walking filthy streets, going to the bathroom at work. The feel of
her stocking ankle against my hand triggers a new flood sexual
desperation. I try to control my passion as my lips press against the
dirty sole of her shoe but I quickly become engulfed in my desires, my
tongue instinctively pressing against her filthy sole just as it pushed
past her succulent lips so long ago.
She takes a sip of her water as she watches me make love to her shoe,
debase myself, lose control.
"Remove my shoe," she says softly.
I struggle to breath as my free hand takes a hold of her shoe. I gently
pull the pump off, after I do she flexes her strong legs pressing the
sole of her sweaty foot tightly against my mouth and nose. The pungent
mix of her foot, her perfume, mixed with the musky smell of shoe leather
is overwhelming; intoxicating. Although it's a standing order that I kiss
whatever she places before my lips, I would be unable to stop myself if I
had to. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I begin kissing her foot with
loving reverence. I am completely lost in a heady mixture of sexuality,
pain, pungent aromas, love, lust, and humiliation.
When she sees that I am totally lost in the moment she snaps her fingers
signifying I'm no longer allowed to look her in the eyes. I direct my
gaze to the foot that's on the floor, my eyes fixated on the small key
hanging from a delicate gold anklet while my lips continue making love to
her toes with soft passionate kisses. The studs mounted on the stool
begin to take a toll on my tender ass while her cock penetrates and
violates my 'pussy'.
"Richie, I love what we have together. When you first brought up female
domination I'll have to admit I thought it was pretty silly. But
something happened when I put you in a pair of panties for the first time
that I can't explain, it was a mix of disgust for you and a huge power
rush for me. When you begged to dress like a sissy all the time "...
"But I mmph..."
A foot jammed roughly against mouth put a quick end to my side of the
story. The force of her powerful legs pushing my head back gives me no
choice but to stare into the scornful face of my wife while she burrows a
hole into my soul with her steel-blue eyes.
"When you begged me to dress like a sissy all the time that was the final
straw to seeing you as my husband. When you're dressed like this I really
can't see you as a man at all, and I definitely don't see you as a woman
either; you're more like a thing, an it. I felt guilty about spanking my
husband, or making my husband do all the chores. I didn't at all like
humiliating my husband, or punishing my husband, or treating my husband
as a slave, but you desperately needed me to do those things to you. But
when you became this thing I could fulfill your deepest darkest
fantasies, and it turns out, use your kinky fetishes to control you."
Her leg relaxed allowing my face and eyes to return to their rightful
place.
"I will never leave you Richie. Our relationship is very different, but
it's ours, and I love what we have together. I feed off your pain and
humiliation and you get off on it. I live like a queen with you at my
beck and call, never having to lift a finger to do a single chore, except
to snap and point. There is no way I could ever go back to a vanilla
relationship, one where we're equal. One where I cook and clean while you
mow the lawn. No, I like it when I enjoy myself, go to the gym, or relax
while you mow the lawn, AND you cook and clean. But..."
My lips continue to reverently worship her foot. I desperately need to
look her in the eyes but instead I obediently look down at her foot.
"But Richie, I need to get fucked...hard. I need to get fucked by - big -
strapping - men. I need a big strong - man - to toss me around like a rag
doll and fuck my lights out...whenever he wants...and however he wants. I
desperately need a real man, with a real, big - thick - cock to pound me,
to make me fucking scream for mercy, and for my pleas to be ignored while
he pounds me without mercy!"
I could see hear was becoming sexually excited as I felt my heart sinking
into my stomach.
"You can't give that to me Richie, and even if you could I wouldn't want
it from you. I love you Richie, but look at you, you're no longer a man
and haven't been in my eyes since I put you in your first pair of panties
- that's the day you became my bitch, and that's what you will always be
to me...my bitch," emphasizing the word bitch.
"I've been unfaithful to you pretty much as soon as you begged me to let
you dress like a little bitch, but up til now I've kept it a secret from
you. Now it's time to bring it out in the open, another tool in my
toolbox to humiliate and manipulate you with. I know you need that dear,
you need to be humiliated don't you?"
All I can do is to shake my head yes, acknowledging everything she said
so far as the truth.
"Speak," my wife orders.
"Yes ma'am."
"Yes ma'am what?"
"Yes ma'am, I do need to be humiliated."
"Good, the first thing you'll need to remember sweetie is that my
boyfriends are your superiors, therefor I think it fitting that my bitch
call every man that fucks me by their surname from this day forward.
Every time you say mister you'll remember that the man you're talking to
did something you're not allowed to - fuck your wife. If they ask you a
question you'll answer either yes sir or no sir, is that understood?"
Each sentence felt like I was being beaten by a baseball bat. I was now
hyper aware of the stupid maid's outfit I was wearing, beyond my wife's
sexy nylon clad foot I could see my own nylon clad feet tucked into a
pair of pumps, red satin panties holding my nylon clad ankles together.
Fuck I don't want to wear this shit! I want to dress like a man!
"Yes ma'am." I started crying as I buried my face in her foot.
"There there dear. Don't worry, this will only go on for a few more
years...until I hit menopause, then it will be just you and me again, in
our own special relationship."
She pulled her foot from my lips reached over to softly pet the top of my
head, like she was petting her dog.
"I will be going out tonight. Where and for how long is not for you to
know. I will tell you however that I will be out having a damn good time,
while you on the other hand will be toiling away at your menial chores.
You may make yourself some white rice and steam the vegetables you've cut
up before you continue on with your chores. But first, go upstairs and
fetch my sexy new pumps."
"Now little one, do you have any questions?"
"The red ones or the black ones ma'am?"
A snap of her fingers signifies I'm dismissed. She stares down at me
while I begin the humiliating task of pulling myself off my little stool.
I gasp and groan uncontrollably as I struggle to pull myself off the tiny
bench, a horrible slurping sound comes out of my ass as I separate myself
from her cock. She giggles as she goes off to get ready, while I mince up
the stairs and retrieve the requested shoes out of her spacious walk in
closet. The full length mirror forces me to witness how ridiculous I
look, mascara streaking down my face, lipstick smeared; not a man, not a
woman...a thing, an it. When I return I push my stool to the side and
kneel in wait holding her new shoes. I look to the side of me and take a
long look at what used to be my man chair, remembering the last time I
sat in the chair...
"Oh, there's my little tart," my wife says sensually when she walked in
the room and saw me relaxing in my chair during one of our fantasy
weekends. Oh my god she looks so fucking hot, so fucking dominant in just
her regular street clothes...a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots . A
wicked crop held effortlessly in her hand making me crazy with fear and
lust.
In a mixture of sensuality and playfulness she struts over to me and
says, "Look at you in your sexy little lingerie and heels sitting in the
man chair. I bought that chair for the man of the house, not the tart of
the house." as she seductively runs her fingers around my lips. She holds
her finger in front of my eyes, my wife's beautiful face with the most
seductive grin ever behind her finger. I look up at the hot-pink lipstick
on her fingertip and get lost in the moment when I rest my gaze on her
incredible grin. My god how I want to grab her head and pull her lips to
mine.
She grabs my leash and gently pulls until I'm out of the chair, pausing
for a moment to stare deep into my soul, before she pulls the leash down
roughly, putting me to my knees. She places the heel of her boot over the
leash and steps to on the floor, violently pulling my head down. She
pulls the chain until my face and her boot meet on the carpet, my face
jammed tightly into her boot.
"I don't ever want to see
this pretty little pantie covered
ass in the man chair ever
again!
Do you understand me?
"Yes ma'am!" I scream out. My mini-skirt and delicate little panties
providing no protection against her vicious onslaught.
"Good, now kiss my boot bitch."....
My wife struts back into the room and sits before me on her couch;
breathtaking. She's touched up her makeup and changed into a very sexy
red dress. Without a word I quickly get to work putting on her sexy new
pumps, gently kissing each one. Oh my god they're so fucking hot!
Tan toes and red toenails peek out of red leather, a foot fetishist's
dream.
"Now run along and fetch my clothes from the bathroom floor. Make sure
you get all your chores done while I'm out having fun. Don't wait up for
me" she says as her shoe quickly departs from my loving kisses, leaving
me feeling abandoned.
I look up at her as she walks away, oh....my....god; she is so fucking
hot. Every guy in the club will be drooling at the site of her, buying
her drinks, doing whatever they can to get their grubby paws on her. My
heart sinks further yet as memories of what she does to me when I'm in my
little red dress flood my mind. My heart sinks yet again when I remember
what she said to me. My whole being sinks as the door to the garage
closes. I just kneeled there like an idiot for the eternity it took for
the garage door to open, her car to start. Run out there...stop her
before it's too late. I can hear the engine slow as the transmission is
engaged...get up I think to myself. The car pulls out of the garage...GET
UP!
The sound of the garage door closing mixes with the sound of her car
disappearing down the street, taking with her a little more of my
manhood.
The first order of business is to clean up my conversation chair and put
it away. Shortly after my wife revoked my right to sit on the man-chair
she told me we need to talk, but stopped me before I sat on the couch
next to her, "Your new conversation chair is in the closet. Go fetch it
dear."
I was strangely turned on when I opened the closet and saw the old
hardwood child's stool; it would be impossible to feel like her equal
sitting on this tiny little stool. Little did I know at the time that,
like our relationship, she would slowly add to the chair to increase the
dichotomy. My wife really understood the submissive psych and could play
it like a finally tuned violin. She understood all of the subtle nuances
that kept me in my place, kept me turned on, and kept me under her
control by slowly adding things to the relationship to keep it exciting
and keep me off balance, and how to use my fetishes and desires to slowly
turn me from a desperate submissive into her willing slave.
To be continued...
Makenna
- 27.09.2021
- 14
- 0
