He set me a text a 1:30 p.m.. Shave everything. Clean everything – inside and out. Wear ONLY what is in the box. Walk to M/D’s.
I gulped. No time line. Nothing else. I knew better than to call or text for clarification. I showered, shaved everything, made sure EVERYTHING was cleaned – inside and out. Nude, I went into our bedroom – no box. Our closet – no box. Then, I tried the hidden door to our playroom.
There on the bed was a red box. Opening the lid I gazed at the contents then closed my eyes a moment, gathering my nerve. Ginger infused lube. A rather large butt plug. A short dress with a demure neckline. stockings. Garter belt. Heeled boots.
As expected, but burn was immediate. Breathing through the discomfort, I finished dressing then walked to M/D’s, which luckily was only about 1/4 mile away. I pushed open the door and waited for my eyes to adjust. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw he was already seated at the bar.
Smiling, he stood to greet me with a kiss to my cheek then waved his hand toward the bar stool next to him. A solid wooden one. I gulped then gingerly (pun intended) sat.
“15 year Macallan’s for me and a Sav for the lady,” he said to the bartender. “So, June, how was your day?”
“Fine, thank you,” I answered. “I had a lovely surprise this afternoon.”
He chuckled as our drinks arrived. Silently, we sipped our beverages for several minutes. The burn from the lube was now faded, but the pressure of the plug which was firmly embedded inside of me thanks to the hard seat remained both exceedingly uncomfortable and almost unbearably exciting. Was this it? Would he, once we finished our drinks, kiss me goodbye and return to work? Would he come home with me? Would he take me into the back room – which he’s done before since the owner is his brother – and fuck me to mindlessness? I glanced at him and he grinned smugly. He knew EXACTLY what I was thinking.
“Cash out,” he said to the bartender and he emptied his glass. He stood, holding his hand out for me. I grabbed it like the lifeline it was and hopped off the horrible bar stool.
Hand in hand we walked back home (I’d forgotten he’d caught a ride to work this morning with a co-worker.). The moment we stepped into the house he had me bent over the back of the couch, his belt unbuckled and his trousers unzipped.
No need to check for wetness, we both knew I was drenched. He entered me without ceremony, his cock combined with the plug filling me to the extreme. I cried out, orgasming before he had even pushed complete in.
He laughed and slapped my ass. Over and over again he plunged his manhood in and out while slapping my chilled, but quickly warming skin. I lost count of the number of times I came. Too quickly for my wishes, he gave one last almighty thrust and emptied himself inside of me. Nothing on this earth could have stopped me from turning and sliding down to my knees after he had finished. There was no way I would let one drop of his cream go to waste. Again, after too short a time, he stepped back, adjusted himself and fixed his trousers and belt. I stayed kneeling in place, looking up at him.
“Please, can we . . .” I began.
He held up one finger. “I’m sorry, love. I have to go back to work for a few hours.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:30 p.m. “I just couldn’t get you out of my mind. Hopefully I can concentrate now and be home again by 6 at the latest. Tell me. Do you think you can manage to stay plugged that long?”
I thought a moment. The plug was uncomfortable, but not at all painful. “Yes.”
He helped me to stand. “Good. I’ll pick up dinner on my way home. Something simple – a salad or soup perhaps. I will expect the dress to be hung in the closet and my cum dried on your thighs.”
“Absolutely, Sir. Absolutely.”