Dominatrix Wife: Strap-on and Husband Submission

The door opens, you come in with your suitcase, take off your coat without looking at me. It smells of the road, perfume, a foreign city. I stand in the hallway, waiting. You finally look—and I understand everything in your eyes. You're not tired. You're not missing me in a human way. You want to. You put down your suitcase, without taking off your shoes, and come closer. Silently. You take my chin and turn my face. You look. I remain silent. You run your thumb over my bottom lip, pressing lightly. I open my mouth. You smile—briefly, without warmth, rather contentedly. "Did you miss me?" you ask. Your voice is low, calm. I nod. You let go of my chin and walk into the room without turning around. I follow you. The suitcase is still standing in the hallway. In the room, you click the locks, lift the lid. You take out something wrapped in black cloth. You put it on the bed. You unfold it. A belt. Leather, wide, with a buckle. I look at it, then at you. You don’t smile. You just look—and wait. “Take off your clothes,” you say. “And get on the bed. On your stomach. Wait for me.” You go out into the bathroom. I hear water. I stand there, looking at my belt. Then I start unbuttoning my shirt. I unbutton my shirt, slowly, button by button. I hear the water running in the bathroom, then it goes silent. I take off my shirt and throw it on the chair. Jeans, socks, underwear—all there too. I lie down on my stomach. The skin on the blanket is cold, and I shudder. I put my hands under my head, my legs together. I wait. You come in. I hear footsteps, then silence. You stand and stare. I want to turn around, but I don’t dare. I hear you take the belt from the bed. The leather creaks in your hands. You fold it in half, run the tip down my back—from my shoulder blades to my lower back. Slowly. I tense. You stop at the small of my back, press lightly. Then you remove it. “Relax,” you say. “I haven’t done anything yet.” You sit on the edge of the bed next to me. You place the belt on the bedspread, next to my head. I see it out of the corner of my eye. You run your hand down my back, over my shoulders, moving lower. Your nails lightly scratch. I breathe deeper. You lean over and kiss my neck, the back of my head. Your hair still smells of the road, of the street. You bite my earlobe. I twitch. “Lie still,” you say. “Don’t move.” You get up. I hear you unzip your suitcase and rummage around. Something jingles. You come back. You put something else on the bed. I can't see what. You take the belt. You run it across my buttocks, lightly. Then suddenly - a slap. Not hard. My skin burns. I clench my teeth. You wait. The second - harder. I exhale through my nose. The third - in the same place. I feel the warmth spreading through my body. You put the belt aside. You lie on top of me, pressing your full weight against me. Your clothes are still on—I can feel the fabric, the zipper, the buttons. You kiss my neck, my shoulders. Your hand slides under my stomach, lower. You find my cock and squeeze. I'm hard. You smirk in my ear. “Already?” you say. “I just started.” You let go and stand up. You rummage through your suitcase again. I hear the tube open, the lid click. You come back and sit between my legs. You spread your knees. I tense up. You put your hand on the small of my back, pressing me to the bed. “Don’t move,” you say. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I hear you squeeze lube onto your fingers. Warm, slippery. You run them along my cleavage, pressing lightly. I freeze. One finger enters slowly. I exhale. You wait. The second one goes in easier. You move them slowly. I start to pull back. You slap my buttock with your free hand. Not hard, but unexpected. - I said, don't move. You take your fingers out. I hear you take the belt off the bed, then the sound of a buckle, straps. I turn my head. You're on your knees, putting on a strap-on. Black, shiny with lube. You look at me. Calmly. As if you're doing something ordinary. Then you bend over, take a pillow, and slide bukvoeb.org under my hips. I find myself lifted up. You stand behind me. I feel the head pressing against me. You hold my thigh with one hand. “Breathe,” you say. And you enter. Slowly, but without pause. I grab the blanket. You stop, let me get used to it. Then you start moving. Evenly, deeply. I feel every centimeter. You keep the rhythm, without speeding up. All I can hear is my breathing and the slap of skin. You lean forward, laying on top of me, without stopping moving. Your hand finds my cock again. You jerk me off in rhythm. I'm almost on the edge. You feel it, let go, straighten up. “Don’t you dare,” you say. “I’m not finished yet.” You pull out. I remain lying there, empty, hot. You sit on the bed next to me, turn me onto my back. I look at you. You are still in restraints, your breasts under your T-shirt, your hair disheveled. You take off the strap-on and put it away. You lie down next to me, take my hand, put it between your legs. You are wet. I begin to move my fingers. You close your eyes, breathe deeper. I speed up. You come quickly, squeeze my hand, arch. Then you open your eyes, look at me. “Now you can,” you say. You take my hand and lift me off the bed. You put me on my knees in front of you. I look at you from below. You spread your legs. I lean down and start licking. You hold my hair, guiding me. I work my tongue, you move your hips towards me. The taste of you, the smell of intimate secretions. You moan – quietly, almost soundlessly. I don’t stop. You cum a second time, harder. You let me go. I sit on the floor, with my back to the bed. You climb down next to me, resting your head on my shoulder. We are silent. The suitcase is still standing in the hallway.