Mia ran her hands over the smooth paneling on the front of the box. Each piece had been sanded to be almost impossibly smooth, then painted a black so dark it seemed to absorb all light in the room. The patterns carved into the box were intricate, all delicate leaves and woodsy milieus, a peaceful public face for something that could be anything but.
There were no visible seams but a large brass latch secured in the middle of one section made it clear that there was more to this box than first appeared. Mia knew this all too well. She let her fingers fall to the heavy brass lock which secured the latch and kept everything in place.
She could still remember the day that they had found the latch, beaten and forgotten, on some old trunk in an antique shop. She could remember the way it had caught her eye, and how insistent he had been that she buy it. At the time, she had no idea what it would ever be used for. It was a dingy, beaten up old trunk with an interesting, albeit half-demolished lock.
What a surprise it had been to wake one morning to a bright yellow bag sitting on the nightstand near her bed. Pulling the top open she caught sight of her beaten old lock only it was gleaming with a shine it hadn't known in years. From their earliest moments together she had known that there existed within him a penchant for violence. A caged wolf which stalked the recesses of his mind and occasionally leaped forth with great fury. He wasn't malicious, nor without kindness, on the contrary the intensity of his most brutal moments was matched by the intensity of his kindest.
Even then, she didn't know what the lock would entail. In truth, he may not have known what was coming either. Mia had always chased dangerous men, and in him she found someone who was capable of inflicting massive harm yet still surprising her with heretofore unimaginable generosity. There was something within her that craved his wicked side. She found herself purposefully inciting him, doing her best to taunt that wolf until it came rushing forth to devour her. There was a rush in that power, a sense of being claimed by something far greater than her, and in her role as a possession she found peace and satisfaction as she had never known.
Still, not satisfied, she pushed the boundaries. But eventually, where else is there to go? She was his prize, whether bound or free, whether denied or overwhelmed, she knew that his mastery over her was complete. Which led to a thought, one that earlier version of herself could never have entertained. What would it feel like to watch him claim someone else?
At first, it was just fantasy, fodder for her to mull over during intense whipping sessions when her mind needed a quiet place to go. Then it became something she would hint at, tentatively pointing out attractive women when they were together, or hiding his wedding band so that he would have to leave the house without it (despite his protestations.) Eventually, it became a secret she could not contain. While he had her pinned against a wall, fucking her viciously from behind, her chest slamming into the drywall she began to whisper her secret thoughts to him.
What started as a whisper quickly became a moan. Furtive little secrets opened the floodgates and a torrent of pent-up fantasies rushed forth. He fucked her harder than she could remember, and she came more times than she dared try to count at the thought of his new found energy coming from imagining the conquest of a pretty young thing.
These sorts of things take time to make reality of course. Flirtatious messages exchanged with friends, drunken makeout sessions with strangers at a bar, dozens of emails exchanged online. But one day, her hopes became reality. He tied her to a chair in their spare room, secured a gag tightly in her mouth, and then blindfolded her.
"I want your whole world to be nothing more than the sounds of me fucking her," he had whispered. She squirmed incessantly, on the verge of orgasm at the thought alone. Footsteps. Quiet laughter. The sounds of moan, quiet at first, the other woman. Was he going down on her? Mia closed her eyes and tried to picture her husband bent between the legs of a stranger, she strained to imagine what it would look like to see his tongue darting between the other woman's folds from her angle.
The moans grew louder, now his distinctive grunts joined the fray. Fast. Violent. The bed springs protested, the headboard slapped against the wall, there was the sound of his hand slapping her. But where? Mia's imagination was running wild, overwhelmed with potential images of what was happening. The woman's voice rose suddenly, then broke. Had she cum? How? Where? Mia could feel the slick juices coating her thighs. A final roar and her husband had finished.
Mia gasped and realized that she'd been rocking against her bonds, unconsciously trying to get any amount of friction going between her legs. She tried to picture her husband's cum leaking out of the stranger's pussy. Or had she given up her ass? Mia shuddered. It was too much. It was…
The gag was pulled free. Mia's excitement bubbled over, she tried to contain it but blurted, "Hey babe, how was…" but before she could finish he had jammed his cock into her mouth. His erection was fading fast but her tongue helped renew its enthusiasm. She could taste the other woman's cunt, mingled with his cum, and a hunger took over her which neither of them could describe. She lapped eagerly at her husband, taking every inch of his rapidly growing cock into her mouth, then working her way from the tip to the base. She sucked him off with a fury, so worked up at her own inability to achieve any satisfaction and the mental pictures which she had formed from the sounds echoing down the hall.
It stayed this way at first. She wasn't always blindfolded, nor was she restrained, but she was always absent. Just as before, there grew a gnawing feeling within her. A sense of dissatisfaction. She wanted to watch. After reviewing things with his latest girlfriend, her husband assented. Mia sat on the edge of their large sectional and watched as her husband made out with another woman. Brief pangs of jealousy blossomed within her, god that girl was pretty, but they faded quickly, overwhelmed by the deep sense of need radiating from her pussy.
Her husband worked his way down the stranger's neck, small kisses causing her to sigh and loll her head, while his hand undid the button's on her blouse. For a brief moment the stranger and Mia locked eyes, both women blushed and quickly averted their gaze. Mia had broken a rule, and so was unable to touch herself, so she squirmed in her seat. She was desperate to cum. Just this was enough to cause her to lose all other thoughts, she needed to see him fuck this woman. Mia was consumed with lust.
As her husband slipped between the stranger's legs, his hands spreading her labia while his tongue undulated against her clit, Mia caught herself staring enviously at this strange woman. She felt so powerful watching her husband take what he wanted, but also so completely helpless. It was then that she noticed the stranger staring back. The woman's eyes had a sudden light in them, she stared at Mia without shame or pity, moaning with an intensity designed to torment Mia further. She licked her lips lasciviously and rocked her hips into Mia's husbands face. All the while Mia stared, feeling herself shrinking, suddenly very still.
She had known the peace that came from being dominated by her husband. She was obedient and subservient to him, two words which no coworker or friend would ever ascribe to her personality. But this was the first time she had felt so cowed by one of his dates. This woman didn't just want to fuck her husband, she wanted to make sure Mia didn't miss a moment. Mia watched blankly as the other woman shifted her hips, giving Mia a better view of her husband's mouth as it brought the stranger to a shuddering orgasm.
The more the woman taunted Mia, the more clear it became that there existed a powerful exchange taking place, the more Mia felt her cunt leak. She needed this. All of it. She needed to be denied, owned, teased, and denied again. She needed to see her husband claim other women, and to see that those prizes were even superior to herself. There was no humiliation for her, after all, he may fuck these women but he slept next to Mia.
Then, one day, she walked in to find the box sitting next to their bed. Heavy and ornate it had clearly been a project that had taken months. Between work, each other, and his various dates, Mia's husband didn't have an abundance of spare time. Yet, evidently, what spare time he'd had, he had dedicated to making this. At first, it was unclear what it was. The latch clearly meant it opened, but what was inside?
The rules were always that when Mia got home she should get naked, get ready, and kneel next to the bed. Sometimes, when she was lucky, she would get to clean her husband's cock or at the very least lap his cum up from the woman it was leaking from. She fidgeted anxiously, imagining what was to come. When her husband walked in he was leading his girlfriend by a long chain leash. Mia smiled at the other woman's obvious discomfort.
Wordlessly her husband led his girlfriend to the bed where she obediently assumed the position. Head down, ass up, docile and silent. Mia straightened her back as he turned his attention to her. He leaned down and undid the heavy latch with one hand while lightly stroking her cheek with the other. It was so patronizing, so dehumanizing, something one would do to an animal. She leaned into it and felt her heart beating ever faster.
When he lifted the lid it quickly became evident what the box was for. It was for Mia. The wood was thicker than she had expected which meant that the inside of the box was small and cramped. The interior was lined with a plush, silky looking material. He took her hand and forced her to caress it. Softer than she'd imagined. Smooth. Cool.
"Get in."
She did. Curling her legs underneath her body, bending her head down low, her arms pulled in tight to her sides. There was no room to move. As he lowered the lid it applied just the slightest amount of pressure to the back of her head, forcing her to contort herself slightly to get into a more comfortable position. Not that any position achievable within the box could really be considered comfortable.
From outside she could hear slightly muffled commands. Suddenly the box rocked, her instincts told her arms to move, but the cramped space made it impossible for them to abide. Instead she shifted her legs to try to steady herself. From above, there was a heavy thud.
Later it would become clear that he had draped his girlfriend over the box to whip her. In the moment though, all was dark and confused. Mia couldn't be sure what was happening. She felt the box jerk, though without light it was hard to keep sense of which way was up. There were sharp cracks from outside, and the definite sound of a woman's pained cries. The box rocked in sync with them, each time forcing Mia to fight her instincts and remain still.
Eventually the cracking ceased and the cries slowed to a whimper. Then the box began to rock violently. The lid, heavy as it was, locked though it may have been, shuddered under some new onslaught. This time it didn't take any special intuition to figure out what was happening. He was fucking her. The stranger. Her husband had put Mia in a small box, locked it, and was now fucking some other woman on top of it. Mia could feel the box rock as her husband drove his cock into the stranger, she could hear the woman's cries shift to moans. Long, piercing cries echoing in their small bedroom.
Mia would never have known it before. Never been able to tell you with words no matter how much time she was given. But as she felt her body rock and shift along with the box, she felt a sense of peace replace that aching need. A calm was spreading over her, easing the burning desire within her cunt, freeing her mind from the incessant sexual fantasies. This. This was where she belonged. Owned. Stored. Safe.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/41eicz/the_box_mfcuckqueanbdsm