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“I don’t need anything; I’m eating out tonight.”

“Oh? The first I’ve heard of that.”

“It’s been planned for a few days now.”

“You didn’t say anything. Where are you going? Who with?”

“Honey, I’ve got a meeting with Mitch.”

++++++

My name is Peter, a director for a medium-sized business, in charge of the facilities for a dozen sites across the country. At forty-eight, I have been married for twenty-four years. Lisa, my wife, is three years younger than me and mother to our three children, the youngest of whom started her second year at university this year. At a little under five-five, motherhood had transformed her slim body to a curvaceous 36C-24-34. Lisa, to me, is the most beautiful creature to walk the earth and she never questioned my praise, until last summer.

We had spent the summer at our coastal home, with our three children. A lot of this time was spent either on the beach or walking in the countryside. The walking tended to be just Lisa and me, where the beaches were a whole family affair. Seeing them all together, I could see Lisa in all three. Our son bore a resemblance to me, but with her dark hair, the girls were images of her at their age. I saw more than one guy, trying to chat up our daughters, also check Lisa out and I told her so. She said I was being silly; they must have just been making sure the old crow didn’t interfere.

That said, she seemed to enjoy the thought of the youngsters looking, as the sex after days at the beach was far better than after we had been walking. Then again, that could be to do with having sex in the open during the day when we were out without the kids.

At six-foot, with a forty-four-inch chest and thirty-four-inch waist, I may not be the most well-defined man alive, but I don’t think I do too badly. I run five miles three times a week, do yoga the other mornings and numerous press up and sit-ups daily. From young love until now, our love life has ranged from rampant to pretty good. When we first started going out it was like anytime, anyplace, anywhere, now it was several times a week and then a couple of times in a night. Even when heavily pregnant we regularly ‘wet the baby’s head’.

When our youngest started school, Lisa went back to work part-time at an estate agent’s office as a property manager. This became full-time when all our kids hit their teens. She joined me in part of my exercise regime, some of the time, though never the runs. However, after last summer she joined a gym too. I did question this, and it came down to her feeling insecure about her body. I remember one conversation went something like this.

“But you’re beautiful and I think you have a gorgeous body.”

“You have to say that, you’re my husband.”

“I don’t have to say it, but I do say it because I mean it.”

“Well, it’s not the body you fell in love with.”

“You’re right,” this got her attention. “I never fell in love with your body, I fell in love with your smile, your eyes. Then when I got the nerve to talk to you, your heart and mind sucked me in and wouldn’t let me escape.

“Lisa, by then you could have been six-stone and built like a stick or sixteen-stone and had more curves than Zig Zag hill, I would have fallen as far in love with you as I did. If you want me to be really honest, I prefer your look now than when we first got together.”

“So, you want me to stay fat?”

“Number one, you’re not fat, a long way from it.

“Number two, I want you to be happy, if that means joining a gym and losing all those lovely curves, then so be it. Your happiness and self-confidence are far, far more important than how I prefer you to look.

“Number three, at the end of the day, it’s your body. I can’t demand you do or don’t do anything with it. But I do ask, as your husband, not to lose focus on us, not lose focus on our kids. We will always love you, even in the times you don’t.”

Well, in ten weeks since Lisa had joined the gym, I had seen the change in her. She was starting to firm up around her belly. Her boobs were perkier, and her bum was firming up. Lisa was happier in general and seemed more comfortable with herself.

++++++

As Lisa disappeared out of the door and upstairs, my brain started running at a hundred miles-per-hour. Lisa never had meetings outside of office hours. Even when she first started back to work, her late nights were minimal. When she started this job, she made a point that everyone in her department should not work more than their hours, except for extreme emergencies. A number of questions sprang to mind. Who was Mitch? What was this meeting about? Was there something more I should know? Depending on the answers, these could lead to lots more questions. The very first question I asked was, had I missed something?

She had her nights out with her friends, she always had. There had been no change to the routine of these. Always a Friday; different venues, meaning different dress. She always left sometime between six and eight and was home between eleven and one. Thinking through all the stuff I had heard and read, nothing seemed off. She always had a quick wash and cleaned her teeth every night before bed, this was the same on her nights out.

Our sex life was no different if anything it had possibly ramped up a bit. It wasn’t at dating or holiday levels, but the frequency was up. The variety we had always had, perhaps we had been a little more daring on the odd occasion. Unless she was faking and had been all our lives, I think I was doing as well as I ever had. We still went out regularly to restaurants, the cinema, doing new stuff like going on nature trails and taking hobby weekends.

Mitch, I had to rack my brain to place him, because I could not register him as even falling on Lisa’s radar. He was one of my favoured species of humans. Okay, that’s a complete lie, he was an estate agent. I remember meeting him at a couple of Lisa’s works events. He was one of these people who I took an instant dislike to and was told off jokingly by Lisa. Perhaps I was a bit too obvious.

Lisa wasn’t obviously lying to me, she stayed calm and didn’t fumble her words. She didn’t look fidgety when she told me, nor did she break eye contact. I had never lied to her, and to the best of my knowledge, she had not to me.

Needless to say, my appetite had gone. Consigned to the graveyard that may contain the previous twenty-plus years of my life. The potatoes were left boiling, the plates I had got out remained stacked on the counter where I had put them. I had got out the casserole that Lisa had prepared, that sat on top of the cooker. As I looked at it all, it crossed my mind if it was even safe to eat.

“Fuck this shit!” I said aloud to the room.

When I got to our room, I could hear the shower going, so headed to our bathroom. The door was locked, we never locked the door.

After a couple of rattles, I said, “Right,” and went to my bedside table and grabbed a pen.

The lock was the sort that had a safety hole on the outside, where you could just push something into the hole, and it would unlock the door. As I popped the lock and pushed the door open Lisa gave a little scream and covered herself up. In her free hand, she had a razor and was holding the towel just around her waist. Through all our lives together we had never worried about our nudity.

We weren’t nudists and tended to cover up around the kids, but our bedroom was sacred ground and the only people to enter without knocking were Lisa and me. Since our youngest had left, we rarely bothered about the bedroom door and if we needed something from elsewhere in the house, we didn’t bother covering up.

Lisa just stood looking at me like a rabbit in the headlights. After a second or two looking at each other, I stepped forward and pulled the flap of the towel back.

“Really?” I asked when I saw her progress toward shaving herself bald.

Lisa had the good sense to not try to hold my stare, now wasn’t a time for defiance. When I turned and walked out of the bathroom, I saw the clothes she had set out for her date. Nothing new, thankfully, that would have only added to the pressure that was building in me. Her lingerie I had bought her for our last anniversary. Thinking this I wondered if it was to be our last one. I saw she had the diamond necklace I had bought for our twentieth anniversary out, next to her wedding, engagement and eternity rings.

I picked up the pendant and read the inscription on the back. ‘Let me love you forever’.

“Oh my god, P, you know I’ll let you and beyond,” Lisa had replied when I gave it to her, as she flung her arms around my neck.

I took that and the eternity ring downstairs with me.

About twenty minutes later Lisa came down looking somewhat flustered. She was in her bathrobe, which surprised me.

“P, have you seen my…” she stopped when she spotted the ring and necklace on the table in front of me.

“Sit,” I said.

“But I have…”

“You have questions to answer,” I interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

“Lisa, I know you are not that stupid. There is no way I would have tolerated you for twenty minutes, let alone twenty years, if you were.”

“Mitch is taking me out to discuss some work stuff.”

“Really? So, tell me about Mitch. I remember him vaguely as a bit of a non-entity that worked in the sales side. I didn’t think sales and lettings worked that closely, that a brief meeting wouldn’t sort any issues out.”

“Well, he says that I could be good in sales. And could earn a lot more than I do.”

“You know that money isn’t an issue and have always said enjoyment of the job is most important. So, it comes down to whether you want to be involved in sales. I thought you enjoyed the lettings side and being senior in the department you get the prime hours. If you move to sales, you’ll be junior, and no doubt have to start working weekends and evenings again.”

“But Mitch said…”

“Lisa, honestly, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what Mitch does or doesn’t say. I’m interested in you and what you want.”

She put her hand on mine and said, “P, can we talk about this when I get home tonight? I’ll have a lot more information then.”

“Lisa, if we don’t clear this up before you go out, I might not be here when you get home tonight.”

“W... what do you mean?”

“You know full well what I mean. You’ve told me you have a date,” I put my hand up to stop her interruption, “I know what you have said it is, but it’s a date. Why else would you be wearing MY favourite underwear and little black dress? You always tell me how sexy you feel dressed like that. Do you want to be sexy for him?

“Add to that, it’s him, a man that you know full well registers so low to me, that I barely remember him every time I’ve met him. However, every time I do meet him, you have to tell me to behave because you know he is one move from a slap. He is just a typical… estate agent. That’s something else you would need to consider IF this is about changing jobs. How do you think I will feel being married to an estate agent?”

“P, please, it won’t be that bad.”

“What? Your date? Knowing you’re out with him? You being an estate agent or working more closely with him.”

“His name is Mitch.”

“Be thankful it is only ‘him’ because there are far worse things going through my mind.”

“Well, I’m going to see what he has to say. Please, can I have my jewellery?”

“One more question,” she nodded, “Shaving? I mean you’ve always kept yourself tidy down there, but never bald. Personally, I prefer some hair down there, but as I’ve always said, it’s your body and your happiness comes before my preferences. Just seems,” I hesitated to get the correct word, “curious, that you would choose tonight to go bald. Does he like the young girl look?”

“Like you said, it’s my body! I’ll do what I like with it!” She stood ready to storm off.

She whirled on me when I took hold of her wrist. We held each other’s eyes for a minute maybe more, then Lisa tugged to get me to let go.

“Yes, it’s your body. Just don’t fall foul of unintended consequences.”

She went to take her ring and necklace and I put my hand over them.

“Eternity and forever are more than twenty-four years.”

As she turned away, I thought I saw her eyes glistening. I was a little happier to see that, as it was exactly how I felt. A further twenty minutes later I had locked the ring and necklace in my desk. It was the first time I had locked a draw on it, so many firsts tonight, none of them good. Lisa strolled into the kitchen and the only word to describe her was stunning. So, I told her.

“You look absolutely stunning. The last time you looked this good was when we last went to dinner and dancing.”

She looked a little abashed when she replied, “Thank you.”

“Does it feel good dressing this well for a man other than your husband?”

“Please P, can we talk when I get home?”

“It depends. When you walk out of that door, I am going to call a locksmith. If you are not here to get a new key, you are going to be a little stuck.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he’s finished, I’m locking the house up and I’ll be going to stay at a hotel tonight. Then tomorrow, I might be looking for something a little more permanent. If you’re not here to get a key, you won’t be able to get in. Actually, you might want to take at least a change of underwear with you.”

Lisa flushed deeper than I had seen her in possibly a quarter of a century. I walked over to her and started to lift the front of her dress. She immediately tried to slap my hands away but could not before I had lifted it to see she had none on.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on? No bullshit, the truth!”

“I can’t not yet, please let me do this and I promise to explain when I get home.”

“I’ve told you, Lisa, when you get home the door may be locked. My locksmiths have a call out time of between an hour and two. Perhaps when he turns up to collect you, you tell him to fuck off. He has no position over you in the office, in fact, if you match job for job, you’re senior to him.

“If this goes the way I am afraid it will not only will you not have somewhere to stay this weekend, you won’t have a comfortable workplace after Monday morning. I will take him down, one way or other and if you’re collateral, so be it.”

Lisa looked down a tear dropping off her nose. I lifted her chin and looked at her, but she only looked sad. She stepped away and walked to the kitchen. When she walked back in, she had a tissue in her hand, I held up my finger to her as I was on the phone.

“Yes, Jack, please. As soon as possible, is that the fastest? Okay, well I’ll see you then.”

I turned to Lisa, “That was Jack, one of my locksmiths. He’ll be around tonight.”

We both heard the tooting of the horn. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “Not even the courtesy to walk to the door? Or just wanted to try to humiliate me?”

“I asked him to text me.”

“Best go then. Do you want to leave your other rings?” I asked moving what had been my father’s ring to my right hand.

As I saw the tears fill her eyes again, I said, “If it upsets you so, don’t go. Or does he have something over you? Am I too late already?”

Lisa tried to hug me but when I backed away, she turned and left the house. I walked to my office and looked out of the window. He was waiting and tapped his wrist when she walked up to the car. He went to kiss her, but she half turned away. So much of this was so very wrong. I grabbed my keys and slipped my shoes on; I was out of the door and following as I saw his lights turning left.

I followed at a distance until they finally pulled into the car park of one of our favourite restaurants. I pulled in and parked in sight of them and they seemed to be arguing about something before he got out and stormed around to her side and opened the door. Lisa was still hesitant, and she walked along with her head down. I gave them a few minutes and then went to his car and took all the caps off the valves on his tyres. After a little looking about I found four stones just about the right size. I forced one into each of the valves and was satisfied to hear the air leaving the tyres.

I knew this restaurant and it was one where they insisted on smart dress, which explained him wanting Lisa to dress smartly. It was debatable whether they would let me in, I was still in my suit trousers and shirt from work, but no jacket or tie. I had looked him up on the company website, so I walked up to the maître d' and asked for his table.

“Erm, sorry sir, but you need to wear a tie.”

“Do you have one I could borrow?”

“The other thing, the table was only booked for two.”

“That’s okay, we can perch a chair on the end. I won’t be eating anyway.

“So, a tie?”

When he hesitated again, I leant forward and said, “I know you have ties, I’ve seen people borrow them on the numerous occasions I’ve been here. Now I could ask to see the manager, Charles, and ask him about it. Or is there another issue?

“Have I put you in a corner asking for a customer by name, who is here with a female companion, when he has asked not to be disturbed?”

I could see I had hit the mark. “Okay, let me put it this way, my marriage is currently in jeopardy and if it all goes to shit, I will be sure to name you in proceedings. You know aiding and abetting or whatever the legal people would call it. You won’t get in trouble, but it will do your reputation a power of not good. Why not just get the boss?”

“Er, well I was told that someone might show up and that you would only be looking to cause trouble.”

“Oh, no, I promise I won’t cause any trouble. It will be more than my job’s worth.”

The look of indecision was incredible.

Another couple walked in, so I said to him, “Deal with them while you think it over.”

Not only young and indecisive but also naïve. As soon as he had taken the other couple in, I quickly looked at the booking list and found the table number. I knew there was a map of the tables under the booking list from previous visits. I looked in the cupboard under the stand and found the spare ties. I set off in the direction I thought was correct, doing the tie up.

I spotted their table and paused. He was holding her left hand and it looked like playing with her rings. Lisa was not looking at him, even though he seemed quite animated. A table near them appeared to have a spare chair, so I took this and sat down with them.

“Good evening,” I said.

“What the…” he started to say.

“Please don’t make a fuss, I did promise there would be no trouble.”

“Well you’d better fuck off then,” he said quietly.

I looked at Lisa, “Should I fuck off? Or do you want to start explaining?”

“But…” Lisa started, then stopped with a look from him. She looked down.

“She won’t talk to you, not unless I say she can.”

“And if I bust your windpipe so you can’t talk?” He laughed and I just raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’ll play your game for a bit. Want to explain?”

“She was going to explain to you in the morning. You can go home and wait.”

I put my hand on Lisa’s, “If I leave, either she leaves with me or next time we talk it will be via a solicitor. How does that suit your game? Does a divorcee fit in with your plans?”

“You’ll just be paying her to be with me, it’s fine.”

“The bit you miss is I will at the very least be out of work. My job relies on a clean criminal record and assault and GBH wouldn’t sit well with that. Now, explanations or I get up…”

He cut across me, “Up you get then,” he said.

“Or I get up and your world of pain starts.”

He stopped laughing as the fork went into the back of his hand, “Jesus, fucking, Christ!”

“Now, now, no fuss, please!”

I looked at Lisa who looked shocked. I held my hand out to her, “Come with me now.”

“She’s mine.”

“You what? What the fuck are you on now?”

“She’s my little slut and tonight I will make her my property.”

“You’re fucking deluded mate! Deluded if you think she’s yours, deluded if you think I’ll let you call her a slut again.”

“Tell him. Tell him, slut,” he smirked at me. He smirked for about a second.

The table was over, and he was toppling backwards in his chair holding his nose. I stood and held my hand out to Lisa.

“Take it! If anyone is owning you, it’s me! We have talking to do. Now Lisa!”

She took another look at him then took my hand and stood up. We walked out of the restaurant, leaving my borrowed tie with the maître d' as we left. Lisa walked at my side with her head down. From angry, I was now concerned for her health. I helped her into the car, and we headed for home. En route, I cancelled the locksmith and ordered a pizza to be delivered. I pulled into our drive and got out, but Lisa stayed in the car. When I opened her door, she had her head down and her shoulders were shuddering.

“Come on, let’s go in. Can we sort this out?”

After no reaction, I put my hand on her shoulder, which made her jump, “Ok, stay in the car, I’ll call the locksmith again, shall I?”

“Noo,” she wailed.

“Well, you started a shit-storm tonight. If you want my help, you need to meet me, at least, half-way.”

She got out of the car and we went inside. I sent her up to get out of her clothes from tonight. While she was doing that, I made some coffees. I thought the last thing we needed to include that night was alcohol. Lisa walked into the kitchen as I set the cups on the table and just at that time the doorbell went. I told Lisa to sit and went to get the pizza.

“So, we’re home, you can tell me.”

Lisa took a bite of the slice of pizza she had in her hand. She then put it down and wiped her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she looked me in the eye.

“It’s a long story and it’s going to be hard to tell can I ask you to try not to interrupt.”

I nodded my head and she started.

++++++

The first thing I wanted to say, to try and give P some sort of perspective on this, was that it had absolutely nothing to do with love. When we spoke later, I could see how warped my thinking had got.

I think it started even before puberty. My parents and siblings were nothing but loving, we grew up in an almost Victorian family. Dad went to work, mum stayed at home and the children were seen but not heard. That sounds harsh, we had strict rules around the house, such as not being in the living room for an hour after dad got in from work. After that, we had dinner as a family and would relax later. When we were small, dad would read us bedtime stories and at the weekends, we would help with jobs around the house before going out with our friends.

I always felt that my two brothers were a higher priority to dad, I would get married and be a housewife and mother, so he thought. With this in mind, I did my utmost to not let him down. When he gave me a job, I did it, to the letter. I would wait quietly until he had checked it out and always felt a real sense of pride when he confirmed I had done it correctly.

I had told P about the boyfriend I first had at university and that he was five years older. What I didn’t mention was that he had obviously seen something in me and had tried to nurture it. He was never abusive, but he did bring out similar feelings when I did something well for him. We explored what I found was my submissive nature, he would choose my outfits, push me to try things I had not. Some I pushed back on, some I tried. In the end, there was not enough love in our relationship and that was something I needed.

When P and I got together, I fell in love with him and he did with me. I could feel it coming from every pore in his body. He had his way of leading and would make most of the decisions for us. I don’t know if he noticed, that I pushed a lot in his direction. Letting him do this and then doing my best for him, gave me some satisfaction for my submissive side. I did hint and ask to get him to try some things in the bedroom. And when he did it was great, but he could not bring himself to do some of the things I think I need.

He hated me kneeling for him and could never get his head around spanking me. We had tried it a few times, but he never did it hard enough to even leave a mark. It wasn’t all bad, because after a few tentative taps, he would stroke my bum for a bit and then holding me in place with one hand, would finger me to orgasm with the other. When we talked after, his side was all confusion about my need to be hurt and not wanting to spoil my perfect body.

The day I gave my butt to him was possibly one of the most fulfilled I have felt, sexually. It was my final virginity and to make it comfortable I had to totally relax and just leave all my trust in him. Handing over my trust, or rather him accepting it and protecting it, was, on its own, almost enough to make me cum.

The itch has always been there, but I had his love, always, without fail, without hesitation. Well, that is until earlier that night and it was not until we got home that what I had done really sank in. This is where the story got very confusing and I was so scared for us. This is when I tried to explain what had happened with me and Mitch.

P’s phone pinged on the table and when I paused, he just powered it off and put it back down again.

I don’t know if there is some signal that I give off, but my boyfriend before P picked up on my submissive nature almost immediately. It was the same with Mitch when I look back over events, I can see that he started working on me soon after I started there. Some of the things made sense, his first move was similar to the excuse I had used with P tonight; a working lunch, joined-up planning between sales and letting. That was an excuse for him to have lunch with me and it was very professional. Sometimes it was just the two of us, but others were never stopped from joining. It seemed that Mitch was always on hand to offer advice, to take up some of the slack, even though he was in sales.

The lunches we had that no one else joined, or the times when it was just the two of us in the office the conversation turned to more personal topics. At first, it was nothing untoward, where we went to university, our family, kids all innocuous. Then one day he mentioned that he felt drawn to me from when we first met, immediately reassuring me it was as a friend. The conversations got a bit more personal from there, was there anything unusual that I was interested in. This was not offered as sexual and so I said about my interest in ancient Roman history. He seemed quite focused on the slaves and twisted the conversation to topics like the orgies or Caligula, finally getting onto slaves that were used purely for sex.

This was a slow process and possibly took a year to get to the point I mentioned above, so I just never saw what he was doing. He then mused about how it must have been to be a Roman with slaves or being one of the slaves at the whim of a master. It wasn’t all the time, but for a few minutes in most conversations it would come up. Over time this increased to the point that some days we would just discuss what it would be like.

As I look back, he had led me down a path, so that without realising it, I was role-playing with him. There were no specifics about sex, a bit like the old romances ‘and then they had sex’. There were more specifics about punishment, spanking, whipping, caning, not being allowed to have sex or orgasm restriction. We talked about how slaves were branded, but some were tattooed as their slave mark. There were piercings and collars and cuffs to secure them.

Slowly but surely the conversation was no longer the Roman master and his slave, but Mitch and me. It was him punishing me for transgressions or ‘and then he fucked me’. He told me where he would tattoo me and the piercings I would have to have as his slave. Even then it was all a bit of a game. This was until just before we went on holiday, he planted another seed, “What would you do if this was the last holiday you had with P?” The sex on our last holiday was incredible, it was like my libido had been supercharged.

Mitch picked up on this my first day back, not directly, no, in his usual style. “How was your holiday? Did you have a good time? Did you and P get a chance to be away from the kids? Did you reconnect?” and then on the Friday of my first week back, “Was it like the last time you would ever have together?” I fucked P like mad that weekend. I had no reason to discourage Mitch, because at this stage, although we had had questionable conversations, especially for a married woman, that’s all it had been.

The change was, like all his other moves, subtle. The first, deliberate physical contact was when he looked at my rings. First, he admired them and then asked how P treated me, was I fully satisfied at home. I did baulk at this and he played hurt, wondering that I could think he was being disparaging. It was a genuine question from a friend, it wasn’t about sex, just satisfaction with life. He knew because there were some things that he wasn’t satisfied with; perhaps there were things we could help each other with.

He suggested that P didn’t let me submit enough. Again, when I baulked, he reassured me that submission didn’t have to be sexual. Slowly he suggested I do things for him, the very first thing was to align my desk in a certain way. The first remotely sexual thing I did was undo a button on my blouse for an afternoon. Then it was things like wearing certain coloured underwear, I proved it by just pulling a strap out.

One day I was running late, and it totally slipped my mind. It was this day he suggested that he was doing this for me, therefore I should reciprocate by agreeing to a range of punishments. We discussed this over a couple of weeks and for him to continue doing this I had to agree to a range between being spanked and no sex for a week.

It is hard to explain the feelings of being told and being rewarded with a simple ‘well done’ or ‘good girl’. This slowly changed to ‘well done, Pet’ or ‘good Pet’, then I messed up again. By then Mitch was totally in my head, I had disappointed him and not for the first time. I had agreed to do this, he was upholding his part of it. He took me back to his flat and immediately sat on a hardback chair and instructed me to get over his lap. He was going to give me twenty smacks and I was to count them out.

“One,” I said after the first.

“No, Pet. It’s sir, one sir.”

After the second I said, “Two, sir.”

“No, Pet, when you make a mistake, we start again.”

After the third, I said, “One, sir.”

“Good, Pet, that was much better. Any more mistakes and it will be on your bare bum,” he was rubbing where he had struck as he spoke.

So, this went on, his strokes getting harder. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks, from a mixture of pain and satisfaction. It got to a point where I spaced out and forgot to count. He pushed me off his lap, not shouting but all tenderness gone. I was instructed to take off my skirt and knickers.

“Any more hesitation and we end this, and I’ll tell your husband what a slut you are!”

I complied and got the twenty strokes over without mistake that time. Afterwards, he reassured me that it was not cheating, I wasn’t convinced. He also said that being able to release this tension, as he called it, would release me with P and our sex lives would improve. This was the start of the things moving rapidly. Each day after we had lunch at his place. I had to prove what underwear I had on by showing it.

Soon I was not allowed to wear my skirt then skirt or knickers and had to kneel during our lunch. He would feed me, not just food, but also reinforcement, telling me what a good slut I was. Telling me how he could train me to be a good slave. After lunch I was not allowed to put my knickers back on, I had to put them in my bag.

I made another mistake and was punished again, after which I was not allowed to wear anything during lunch. The next time I was not going to be allowed sex for a week. This would have been impossible to explain because he was right, all of this had improved my sex life with P.

Eventually, he talked me around to joining his sales team. He would train me, both in sales and in satisfying customers. We would need to discuss it over dinner, after which he would need to start my training. He had me in such a place that I had not connected going on a date to not being work-related. The penny had not dropped about training after, nothing had been said about not going home.

I thought we would have dinner then discuss what needed to be done. Mitch had never lied or misled me, so training in sales and customer satisfaction was just that. Even with the suggestion of not wearing knickers and going bald, I did not make the connection. It would get me so turned on P wouldn’t know what hit him when he got home, that’s what Mitch said, anyway.

When P kicked off at home, I was angry that he was not understanding about my new job. Mitch picked up on my anger and told me I was not to have sex with P for a week, to punish him for making me angry. The mood I was in I agreed, and this played into Mitch’s hands. I could not have been more embarrassed when P sat down with us at the table. Not because it was just after Mitch had been examining my rings and suggesting I would get better sales if I didn’t wear them at work.

Again, I played into his hands, by saying I didn’t want to pretend to be single. Mitch suggested rather than a wedding ring I could wear a signet ring which would show a partner but would hint it was not totally serious. Funnily he even offered to buy it for me.

I was shocked when Mitch told P that I was his slut, I suppose I was, but I had not thought about it like that. I wasn’t a slut for P, but then I wasn’t a slut for Mitch either, it was some nudity and spanking. Just as my head was whirling around this, Mitch then said he was going to make me his property. I was angry at P for what he said earlier and for showing up, I was now getting angry with Mitch for what he had said, but I knew if I showed it, he would punish me. It show’s where my head was that even with P there, I was concerned about being punished by Mitch.

I didn’t know if it was too late, I had never fallen out of love with him, but the way he dealt with Mitch; I fell in love with P all over again. He showed himself as the better man with a few moves. He had every right to be shouting and screaming, but he was calm where Mitch seemed to be losing it. When he felt violence was justified it was quick and measured, but without losing his temper. When he held his hand out to me, I knew I was compelled to go with him, my hesitation was how was I going to deal with Mitch on Monday when P wasn’t there.

On the drive home, this all sank in along with what I had nearly done. What I almost certainly would have done if P had not turned up. Even if I hadn’t, if the locksmith had not been so delayed, P would have had the locks changed and not bothered following. I was crying quietly, but so hard I could not get myself out of the car.

++++++

I was gobsmacked, to say the least.

“Slimy little cunt! Two years?” Lisa nodded in response to my question. “Fuck.”

“I am so, so…”

“Sorry, yes I know,” I held Lisa’s gaze for as long as she could, which wasn’t long. As I did this, I remembered my phone and switched it back on. As if in sync, Lisa’s phone pinged to announce a message. She read it then turned her phone to me.

Don’t think this is over, slut. You’re mine. I will make you my property and that pussy of a husband will be a good little cuck or be in prison.

Tears were running freely down her cheeks now.

“Persistent little shit, isn’t he? Was he like this with everything?”

“No, it was more like a drip-feed until I had taken it all in. Then he got pushy but just on the bit he had been feeding me.”

When my phone had fully booted, there was an email waiting from an unknown source. I could guess by the address and on another day would have laughed at it. [email protected]. Attached were a dozen pictures and as I scanned through them, my heart dropped again. I was pleased Lisa had told me everything before opening this or I may not have listened to a word she said. There were photos of her kneeling, being fed and being spanked, all with no clothes on. I just closed the mail and turned off my phone, then reached over and turned off Lisa’s.

“Lisa, I love you. I have loved you since we met, and even now will probably love you until I die. If it’s possible, I’ll love you after we die too. Don’t look too bright, because, at this moment, I don’t like you very much. My overriding feeling about all of this is sadness.

“You do realise that even though you claim not to have done anything more sexual than in your story; that is grounds enough for a divorce. You have effectively had an emotional affair with him and there have been activities that would be classed as sexual, even if they were not sex.”

Her shoulders slumped and her head bowed, after slumping they started shaking as the crying started again. On each and every occasion she has cried in my presence before that night, I had scooped her into my arms and held her until she stopped. Even when it was brought on by some soppy romantic film or book. That night, I just looked at her, part of me pitied her grief, but part of me thought she deserved every bit of it.

When she settled again, I asked, “Now you are fully aware of his plans for tonight, what future do you think he had planned. Would you have moved in with him, become his full time, what? Slave? Sub?”

“I don’t know, I just, I’m shocked that I didn’t see what he was planning. I don’t think he would want me to move in, his flat is tiny. If I think about it, it probably suited him to have you here to look after me emotionally and give me the love I need. He would then take everything else. Thinking on what he said about denying my orgasms and not letting me have sex, I’d be surprised if his plans didn’t include cutting you off from sex totally, not just for the one week.”

“Do you honestly think I would put up with that? Do you think he thought I would?”

“Now, I know. I know you would not. I would have been out on my backside and he would have had the living snot beaten out of him. Now I’ve cleared my head some, I honestly can’t see any man agreeing to his wife subbing to someone who just muscles in on their marriage. Even if such a husband would agree to such a thing, I cannot see how it would work if he were not involved in every step right from the beginning. Even the most mild, submissive man would have some sort of territorial instinct when it came to his wife and family.”

At that point, the doorbell rang. Lisa being closer, started to rise to answer it. I put a stop to that.

“Sit your fucking arse down. I’ll fuck, whoever it is, off and then we can carry on. Have a think about where we go from here.”

“Yes, sir, erm P.”

I gave her a curious look as I left the kitchen. The last person I expected to have the balls to turn up, did. I looked over his shoulder and noticed there was a taxi waiting.

“Okay, cuck, this is how it is. I’ve spent two years nurturing my little slut…”

If I hadn’t broken his nose the first time, I certainly did the second. As he started to stand upright, I grabbed his collar. Lisa heard the commotion and I heard her chair scrape on the floor as she got up.

“I said, sit, the, fuck, down,” I heard the scrape as her chair was moved again. “As for you, you don’t learn quickly, do you? What did I say about calling my, MY wife, a slut?

“Now, this is how we are going to do this, you will not go anywhere near my wife, my family or my property again. Any harm to any of these and I will come after you. You will quit your job and move, I don’t care where to, just so long as it is out of the area. If I see you, I will come after you, if Lisa does, I will do the same. I will circulate a picture of you to my friends and leave instructions, just as further insurance.

“If you want to try to get me arrested for assault, I will have you arrested equally, I have photos of you abusing my wife. On the other hand, Lisa witnessed you throwing a drink at me in the restaurant and trying to force your way past me, my only recourse was to stop you, physically.

“Talking of photos, delete every single one you have of Lisa. If I find out a single one of them has found its way onto the net, I will report you to the police. They will then track you down and when you appear in court, I will be there to get your address. Then you will be mine, slut.

“I will be speaking to the owners of your company on Monday and if it means Lisa losing her job, so be it. One way or other you will be leaving.

“Any questions? No? Good! Now be a good little beta and fuck off.”

Letting go of his collar, I gave a little push and then closed the door in his face, not waiting for a response.

Returning to the kitchen, I paused at the door, looking at the back of Lisa as she sat there. She hadn’t noticed me and sat quietly with her hands in her lap and her head bowed. I shook my head, I came close to leaving the house and chasing him down, murder the only thing in mind. Instead, I carried on into the kitchen and refilled the kettle to make some more coffee.

Lisa jumped up with the cups and said, “Here let me do that.”

“I said sit, no one said you could get up. You’re supposed to be working on an answer for me.”

She scurried back to her seat. I would never class myself as slow, but it took a few tests for me to really believe what I was seeing. I had always thought Lisa to be a little timid, but generally thought it was a cautious thing. Tonight, I was seeing her in a new light.

“Can you ever forgive me? Can we ever get past this? I couldn’t live without your love. If your locksmith had not been delayed, I don’t think I would have survived the year.”

“You’d do that to our kids?”

“I wouldn’t do anything, I just know my heart would have broken, I would have been lost. He would have dragged me down further or abandoned me or both. Oh, P, whatever else happens, you saved me tonight.”

She got up and kneeled in front of me, taking my hand and kissing it. I pulled her up. Picking up our coffees, we went into the living room. I sat in my usual place, but instead of sitting on the other sofa, as usual, Lisa tentatively sat at the other end of the one I was on. Ironically this put her further away from me until I patted the seat next to me and she shuffled along. She hesitated to get right up next to me. I put my arm up to indicate I wanted her in my embrace.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Lisa. From what I see, you crossed some lines, but it could have been a lot worse. I will always love you; I would struggle to do that if I didn’t forgive you. Can we get past this?”

Silence reigned in our house. We sipped at our drinks not looking at each other, lost in our own thoughts.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she blurted out after a couple of minutes. “If I need to quit my job, I will. Just tell me.”

“I want to get past this. Like you, I would be heartbroken if we couldn’t, but what happens a year from now or ten years, when another one like him comes along and worms his way into your head? Trying to be your owner, your master? Disrespecting me, more importantly, our marriage. Do we do this all again? Do I lose you that time?”

Her head bowed again, and she sat on the edge of the sofa thinking. Then she turned to face me and held my hands. After a few seconds studying my face, she spoke.

“If I had a Master,” she paused, seeming to flounder or second guess herself. I squeezed her hands, “If I had a Master, I would not be able to be twisted like that. As a wife, I could refuse all inappropriate advances, like going to lunch with someone one on one. If someone saw the submissive in me and started to play on that, if I had a Master, it would either show or I could just say I would need to check with Him,” her head dipped again and her momentum was lost as her confidence drained, “with you,” she finished quietly.

“We’ve tried stuff like that before, hell I was so nervous about hurting you or hurting our relationship, just getting it wrong, I ended up laughing. Don’t you remember? You were hurt I was laughing at you until I explained.

“Isn’t it the master that is supposed to lead the submissive? How would that work if you were teaching me?”

“I could tell you what I need, what I like and what I don’t like, it would be down to you to apply it all. We could work together on a list or rota of times when I would submit, just do it part-time to start at least. We could also look online, see if there’s anything there that can help us.”

“See this is what I don’t get, you just slipped into your professional head there. As soon as there was an issue you started to pull it apart and plan to resolve it. You took the lead without flinching.”

She looked like she started to smirk as she looked down again, “Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good spanking if my plans don’t work.”

“That is something, you know, I will struggle with,” I said, as I pulled her to me. “Oh Lisa, I’m so pissed off this has happened. Then again, if we can work through it, it could be the start of a whole new chapter for us.

“Before we get our hopes up, a few things,” she nodded. “First, I think we need marriage counselling, even if it’s only a few sessions, just as a health check. We can make sure we’re not missing anything obvious to a professional.

“Second, I think you need to see a counsellor too. Just to see if any underlying issues need to be resolved. Anything that might be leading you to believe you should be submissive when in fact, you aren’t.

“Finally, how would I become your master? Do I just say I am? I know ongoing it would be about how I acted and treated you. Would it be enough to be a master that leads rather than pushes, one that shy’s away from physical punishments, one that would love you no matter what? Would you want me to tell you to stop trying to lose so much bloody weight, as I love a few curves on you, or would you want me to find out that you really did want to lose it and help and support you doing so?”

Lisa looked at me for a bit, “Saying you are is a start, but you need to embrace it. When I hear you say it, it is almost like you spit it out. It should be said proudly, when it is written it is done with a capital M, that’s how you should say it. You come across as saying it with a lower case.”

“You know this will be hard for me? Some of this I will struggle with because I see it as complete opposition to my love for you.”

Lisa nodded, “But because of that love, I know I can trust you with my everything. I will do whatever it takes, whatever you require of me to hold onto that love and to prove that you can trust me.”

She slipped off the sofa, onto her knees, still holding my hands. Her knees were parted, and her head bowed almost touching my hands.

“I would love to call you my Master, even if I can’t call you Master. When we married, I gave my all to you? Now you understand what I really meant that day, I repeat that my all is yours, my mind, my body, my soul and my heart.”

I stood, with a tear in my eye, still holding her hands. “Look at me, Lisa. I accept. I don’t want you calling me Master and I will need your help. Now come to me and kiss your man.”

We didn’t make love that night, it was about two weeks before we got back there. We held each other and carried on talking and trying to work things out into the small hours of Saturday. Saturday we were busy with chores and spent time contemplating what had happened and where we were headed. That evening we agreed to no more talking and having a takeaway and a film.

On Sunday we spent a lot of the day naked. After washing each other, we cooked breakfast together, and with a fit of the giggles, I tried feeding her. We spent most of the rest of the day browsing the internet, looking for information and ideas about the lifestyle we were looking into. We also researched a selection of counsellors for both us and Lisa.

On Monday we went to see the owners of Lisa’s estate agent and filed a sexual harassment complaint against him. We explained in some detail about what had happened, but it was abridged as much as possible to try and limit Lisa’s embarrassment. Though if needed we would tell the whole story. He had not turned up for work and later that day they received a call saying he would not be back. I guess he moved as we never saw or heard from him again.

++++++

We did go to counselling and they spotted a few areas where we were slipping in our relationship. Lisa’s counselling went well, and she understands more why she wants to submit, and it probably does go back to wanting to do chores perfectly while seeking praise from her dad.

Our sex lives have taken a turn, there is certainly more. What we have done is broken down the walls that I had put in place to Lisa’s needs. We have laughed a lot and cried some as we have tried to build a lifestyle that suits us both. Fortunately, Lisa is not into some of the hardcore stuff we came across in our research. The lifestyle experiments and exploration we limit to Friday after work until Sunday when we get into bed. It is wonderful to come home to a naked wife waiting to shower me. Equally wonderful is the lovemaking on a Sunday night that signifies the Master and sub are put away and it is just the wife and husband again.

It hasn’t been easy on my wallet, some of the toys are damned expensive. And of course, Lisa has needed new weekend outfits. She did hint that she’s not looking forward to the next holidays as much as usual, I didn’t like to agree out loud. Much as we love our kids, we’re going to miss playing our games all around the house. Little does she know that I am planning a night out for us at a club I have found. Who knows, it might be the first time she says ‘solar flare’, our safe word. The club has a reputation for being very strict and a good place for novices. The more experienced members are always happy to give advice and guidance, even demonstrations. Who knows, it might be me using the safe word.

I am slowly learning to spank Lisa. The benefit for me is the tenderness I can show after, rubbing creams in and thoroughly exploring where I have spanked. Just to make sure it has all been cared for, of course.

I plan to hold a ceremony to renew our vows for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Rather than present her with a wedding ring, I will present her with her eternity ring and pendant. I have also ordered a pair of silver nipple clamps from a bespoke bondage jeweller in Los Angeles, though I will give these to her in private, in the morning and insist she wears them throughout the day.

Despite all my fears this episode in our lives has brought us closer and continues to do so. Though I would not recommend how we ventured into it as a way to improve your marriage, it very nearly broke ours.

Thanks to cbears52 for proofreading

Thank you to the moderators helping me getting this published

And thank you to everyone that reads, comments and/or votes.

All feedback is welcome, either in the comments or via a direct message.