This story is part two in a series. It contains consensual, playful, dominant/submissive role-play between husband and wife. You can read part one here:
Around 9.30 a.m., I wake up. You are still fast asleep, and your hair spills messily onto your pillow. Sneaking out of the bedroom, I make my way downstairs and prepare two cups of tea. Once made, I grab a couple of breakfast bars, take the hot cups of tea, and carry it all back to the bedroom. You awake and give me a big smile when you see the steaming hot mug in my hand. I place it on your bedside table and kiss you on the cheek.
“Ah, honey, you’re the best!” You yawn as I place the breakfast bar next to your cup. “Is that breakfast?” you ask, sounding a little disappointed.
“More a pre-breakfast snack to keep your energy up. Trust me; you’ll need it!” I reply with a wicked grin.
“Oh, my gosh, getting straight back into it, are we? You relentlessly horny man!” You chuckle as I climb into bed next to you.
“Yep, guilty as charged! But first, let’s cuddle.”
“Ahh! Underneath that strict dominant persona, you’re a big softie, really!”
We lie in silence for a while, your head on my chest and your body pressed against my side. The perfect sensation of skin on skin is so deeply calming. You feel amazing, my love. You are home to me; your warmth is my peace.
We come out of this reverie and finish our drinks and snacks. I climb out of bed and get dressed in my suit again.
“Looking very sharp for first thing in the morning, honey!” you say with an inquisitive note in your voice.
“I know. Anyhow… Kiefer Sutherland!” Your eyes light up as I give the code word for getting into character. “The reason I’m all dressed up is that we are now in a fancy hotel with a very special kind of service.”
“Sounds interesting, and I assume I am to be your own personal server, sir?”
“You are indeed! You’ll find your uniform in a bag in my wardrobe. Freshen yourself up, change into it, and meet me downstairs when you are ready, my darling.”
“Yes, sir, right away. I know you’ll be very pleased with the service here, sir.”
“I’m sure I will, and I’m confident you’ll be enthusiastic about your duties!”
I make my way downstairs and relax at the breakfast table. I could swear that I hear you laughing out loud from the bedroom. I’m guessing you’ve found the outfit I’ve got for you! A few moments later, you appear in the doorway, just as sexy as I fantasised when I bought it!
“Good morning, sir. Did you order the special maid service?” You giggle. A cute, coquettish smile adorns your face along with your lipstick and makeup. The sight of you in the get-up makes me instantly hard: a very sexy French maid outfit with a billowy petticoat under the skirt and an outrageously low-cut neckline. Your legs are decked out in white fishnet stockings with lace and black bows at the top, and simple matte-black pumps adorn your feet. You have a lacy headdress in your hair with black bows that match the top of your stockings and the feather duster in your hand that I’d used on you the night before. You. Look. Exquisite.
“Yes, please. I’d like to order breakfast.”
“Certainly, sir. Anything else?” you ask with a sexy grin.
“Well, I think there’s some dust in that corner if you would be so good as to clean it.”
“Why, of course, sir! Over here, you mean?” Your sexy hips sway as you walk to the spot where I had pointed. You turn your back to me, bend over, and start brushing the floor. Your ruffled skirt rides up and gives me the view I’ve wanted all morning! Oh, praise our glorious Creator for the beautifully designed shape of your thighs, so desirable in the white, lacy, fishnet hold-up stockings. Praise him for giving me the wonderful gift of your round, bare, curvy bottom framed delightfully by the ruffled petticoat. Praise him for his love for us, demonstrated so exquisitely in the creation of your cute, swollen pussy lips, just visible between your open legs.
“I’d like to order breakfast, miss,” I command, trying to keep my composure and hide the raging boner in my pants.
“Why, certainly, sir! What would you like?” You smile as you turn to face me.
“Bacon and egg sandwich. And I hear this hotel has a special service where the food is made in front of the guests.”
“Of course, sir, and I trust sir will want to take advantage of… all our services,” You say as you step towards me, smiling and leaning forward. I can see you’re not wearing a bra under the outfit, and your wonderful breasts hang freely, supported only by the soft material. You look downwards and notice the pyramid that has formed in the front of my trousers. “Hmm…” you purr, looking me in the eye again, “It seems sir is VERY keen to take advantage of me… I mean, them!”
“Ahem. I must say the staff are somewhat forward in this establishment!” I reply with mock indignation, all the time fighting the urge to pull you onto my lap, kiss you passionately, and then fuck you right now. “I thought I’d asked for breakfast!”
“Ooh, sir is awfully strict today! Better get on with it then!”
“Yes, you had! And I’d watch your cheeky attitude if I were you! There will be consequences!” I warn, trying and failing to sound stern. My beaming smile and raging erection giving me away yet again.
You turn and slowly walk to the fridge, looking at me all the while over your shoulder. “Oh, but sir, I thought you liked me being… cheeky!” And with that, you open the fridge and bend over again, giving me a view of your perfect bottom. You put your hands on your hips and give a little wiggle.
Oh my word, so, SO sexy! I can’t help but moan aloud, you are getting me red hot, and you know it! You know you’ve broken through the domineering persona I’m trying to maintain; I can see it in your eyes. You raise your eyebrows as if to say “mission accomplished.” Oh, you saucy woman! You’ll get what’s coming to you!
“Hmm, that’s odd!” you say, “all I need for your breakfast seems to be on the bottom shelf! It’s as if someone put them there on purpose so that I have to bend over to get them!”
“I have no idea what you mean!” I lie. “Anyhow, less chit-chat. I’m hungry!”
“Of course, whatever sir desires!”
You sashay over to the cooker, reach for the frying pan, and turn on the gas. I have deliberately positioned myself so that I’m sitting directly behind you as you start cooking. As you slap the bacon into the pan, I reckon it’s time to start getting naughty! I place my hand gently on the back of your calf and stroke up and down.
“Hmmm. Sir is feeling frisky after all!” You coo with a little wiggle of your hips.
“Keep cooking!” I reply sternly.
“Of course, sir! Whatever sir pleases!” You take out the bread and start buttering some slices as the bacon sizzles on low heat, and my hand moves slowly up the inside of your stockinged thigh. “Ooh, sir, that’s going to make it a little difficult to concentrate on making your breakfast!” You chuckle, slightly breathlessly.
“What?” I retort. “It’s only bacon and egg sandwiches! You must have cooked them a hundred times before. Surely you can do it almost without thinking!” My hand goes further up your thigh, and I gently caress the underside of your sweet derrière.
You shudder slightly, and your breathing quickens. “Keep cooking,” I instruct as you dutifully turn your attention back to the frying pan. I’m feeling extra naughty, so I rub a little cooking oil into my hands and place them both on the lovely cheeks of your behind. I tenderly spread the slick, slippery oil over the round, plump, soft, juicy globes of flesh, making you moan and shudder again.
You are trying your hardest to focus on the task at hand, but you’re having obvious difficulty. Once again, I thank God for my kinky wife, who not only indulges but actually enjoys all my sexual fantasies; who knows that I like to dominate and throws herself into the submissive role with gleeful abandon; who gives her body for me to use however I please and loves every second!
Stripping off my jacket and shirt, I stand and wipe my hands, then slowly move one of them between your thighs, placing a finger on your perineum.
I hear your sharp intake of breath, and you move your legs apart to steady yourself, which plays right into my hands. “Mmmm…” You moan.
“Concentrate!” I command in reply. “Time to put the eggs on, I think!”
With slightly trembling hands, you reach for the eggs and crack two into the pan. As you pick up the fish slice (spatula) once more, I give your perineum a firm massage with my finger. This causes your knees to tremble, and you grab the counter to hold on.
“Keep cooking!” I tell you.
You compose yourself as best you can and do your best to move the bacon around the pan to stop it from burning. As I massage with my finger, my thumb comes to rest on the engorged ring of your butthole. I apply the gentlest of pressure, and it instantly takes your breath away. Your eyes and mouth are wide open with a mix of shock and pleasure at the sensation from this previously untried area of your body. Hmmm… interesting!
Slowly I slide my hand forward and cup your swollen pussy lips. You try with all your might to conceal your reaction, but the squirming of your hips and the shaking of your legs is a dead giveaway.
“Come on, concentrate!” I cajole.
“Oh, but sir, this is impossible!!” You moan as you try to keep yourself steady.
“Not at all!” I chide, “You’ve nearly done it, and pretty well too! Considering…” and with this, I place my finger between your lips and find your swollen clitoris straight away.
“AAAAAAH!!” You scream, gripping the counter again, fighting the growing orgasm and trying to regain control of your body.
“Just a little longer, my wife! Eggs are nearly done!” You tense all the muscles you have and hold your breath, your face going a little red. I undo my trousers and pull both them and my boxers down with one hand, freeing my fully erect manhood, and with my other hand, I push my thumb all the way into your soaking wet vagina. Your whole body shakes; obviously, you can’t take much more.
“Mmmmmm….mmmmm!!!!!” You groan in frustration and shut your eyes, panting and squirming. “Oh, yes!!…Please, sir!!…yes!!!” You moan in between shallow breaths.
I give your clitoris another firm push, and you drop the fish slice to the floor, throwing your head back in ecstasy. It’s time now; you’ve earned it!
I reach and turn the gas off before grabbing you roughly by the hips and pulling you away from the cooker. I turn you to face the kitchen counter and forcibly bend you over. Your ruffled skirt rides up, fully exposing your arse and dripping pussy. I stand behind you and line my cock up with your swollen, moist entrance while I place my hand firmly between your shoulder blades and hold you down on the counter.
“OOOOOH, YESS!!! PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, SIR!! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!!!” Ah, my precious, beautiful, submissive wife, who loves to make herself my own personal sex slave and let me use her body for my pleasure—and use her I shall.
I take you. I plunge my throbbing member hard into your soaking wet vagina, entering with such force that a loud SMACK sounds as my hips hit your bottom.
“AAAH, AAAAAHHHH!!! YESSS!! TAKE ME!!” you scream as I withdraw and ram it into you again. Still holding you down, I pound harder and harder, and you moan on every thrust.“OOOOOHHH!!… OOOOOOH!! YESSS, SIR! GIVE YOUR NAUGHTY MAID WHAT I DESERVE!! TAKE ME!! MAKE ME CUMMM….”
I take my hand off your back and grab onto both of your hips. Digging my fingers into you, I increase the pace of my thrusting. The softness of your bottom smacking against my hips and the warm, wet contractions of your love hole against my manhood sends me into raptures of pleasure. Pretty soon, I’m hammering you at a frenzied pace.
Your body tenses one final time, and you scream at the top of your voice as your orgasm explodes inside you. The sight of your delicious body writhing and convulsing pushes me over the edge, and I fill you. I spurt, again and again, into your exquisite lady place, losing all sensation as the climax washes over me. Over and over, I thrust, launching my juices into you, and with each, you scream—until we can take no more. We both come down together, lost in our love.
I collapse back down onto a chair. “Patrick Swayze,” I say as I try to catch my breath.
You remain bent over the counter and let out a short laugh. My cum is oozing out of your pussy and running down your leg. “Could you pass me a tissue, please? I can’t move!” You giggle.
I hand over some tissues, and you try and clean yourself, but you can’t touch your oversensitive lady place without giving yourself another shockwave. As I sit there, I take an admittedly perverse pleasure in watching you, still bent over and looking sexy as heaven, laughing, bucking, and writhing as you tried to clean yourself up.
Finally, you compose yourself and straighten up. “And now to serve your breakfast, sir!” you say with all the poise you can muster.
“It’s okay; I’ve said the ‘stop’ word. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ now.”
“I know, but a good servant never leaves a job unfinished! You just sit there and let me look after you, sir.”
“Now that’s what I call service!”
You scrape the slightly overdone bacon and eggs out of the pan and place them in the bread. Putting each sandwich on a plate, you walk over to me. “Sir, in this hotel, it is required that guests sit side on to the table.”
“Okay,” I reply, turning the chair to the side. You place both plates on the table beside me and sit straddling my lap. Oh, my word! The feel of your stockinged thighs against me feels so good.
You hand me my sandwich. “Bon Appetit!” you say, smiling as we both tuck into a well-earned breakfast. “I trust the service has been to your satisfaction, sir.” You smirk in-between mouthfuls.
“Yes, it’s delicious! And so’s the maid!” I reply.
“Good,” you purr, “but sir still hasn’t taken advantage of all that’s available to him.”
“No, I have two lovely soft cakes for sir to enjoy,” you say and pull down the front of your top to expose your delectable breasts. “Sir paid hardly any attention to them before, and they are feeling very left out!”
“Oh dear, we can’t have that, can we?” I say, as we both finish our food. You take our plates and put them on the table, then you place your hands behind my neck and move your body closer to me. You put your shoulders back so that your exquisite breasts stand out more prominently.
Oh, you are a sexual fantasy made real, my wife! I take your breasts in my hands and caress them softly. Leaning forward, I take your nipple into my mouth.
“Mmmmm,” you moan softly as I roll my tongue around the areola. With my other thumb, I stroke the other nipple slowly. You move your crotch forward so that your still-wet pussy is on my flaccid manhood. I continue kissing your nipple, gently flicking with the tip of my tongue, while you grind your crotch slowly back and forth. Pretty soon, I am hard enough to penetrate (Thank you, Viagra!). My penis grows and is enveloped by your wet ladyplace.
We are both too sensitive to try and cum again, so I carry on feasting on your delicious boobs whilst you rock gently back and forth. And we stay like this. For a full half-hour, I lick, caress, stroke, kiss, nuzzle, and nibble on your soft, delicious breasts while you continue the gentle motion of your pussy around my sensitive manhood. The world disappears; we are lost in each other, lost in the sensation, lost in our love. We are one.
Eventually, we tire, and you stop your movements. We embrace in silence for five beautiful minutes, then finally unlock our bodies.
“Ok, Patrick Swayze, for real this time!” I say, and we both sigh and give each other a cheeky look that seems to say, “Did we really just do that?” We make our way back to the bedroom to change into regular clothes, then decide we need some fresh air and make our way out of the house.
You can’t help notice the beaming grin on my face. “You’re thinking about breakfast, aren’t you?” You smile.
“You got me! Oh, you’re so amazing, you are! I still can’t believe you let me do all these things! Are you sure it’s not too much?”
You look me straight in the eyes. “I’ll let you know when it’s too much,” you say as you firmly grab my butt. “Sir.”
To be continued…..
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