Late morning , I picked myself up and headed into the kitchen to sort out packed lunches for work tomorrow. I needed to distract myself from wondering about what had just watched. My husband took me to the hall. He blindfolded and cuffed me. The he left me to be ravished by a total stranger. I opened the fridge door withour looking for the third or fourth time. He left me to a stranger. He *gave* me to a stranger!
He filmed it. Or at least, he left a camera. Did he watch? He could have done, and been home ahead of me. He could have driven the car. I’d never know. I couldn’t ask him about this. Could I? He’d know I enjoyed it. Well, I did think it was him. But knowing it wasn’t him, I still enjoyed it. I found myself thinking about what I’d do if he did it again. Thank God I’ve got my birth control implant!
I heard my husband call me from upstairs. He must be out of the shower. As I set off upstairs, I had a sudden thought, had I put the camcorder back where I found it?
I walk into the bedroom to find him getting dressed in front of the mirror. Remarkable smart for this time of night. He hadn’t mentioned going out again.
As I walked into the bedroom it was all I could do not to freeze. The camcorder was lying on the bed behind him.
He glanced my way as I walked in.
“Sweetie, mind fidning my belt for me?”
The belt is coiled on the bed, right next to the camcorder.
“It’s right here,” I say, offering him the belt, “or did you want the black one?”
He catches my hand as I offer him the belt. The way he looks at me is different, somehow. He knows I moved the camera.
He pulls me towards him, kisses my cheek, then turns me to face the mirrored door of the wardrobe. Moving in close behind me, he pushes me forward until I’m caught against it. He takes a handful of my hair, pulling it aside, and kisses the edge of my exposed neck as he tightens his grip on my hair. Like my hair was held last night. I shiver with the memory.
“Have you been touching something you shouldn’t?”
“What?” I’m surprised.
“The camera.”
I try to keep my voice steady, “I just didn’t recognise it. I didn’t know we’d got one like that.”
“So what was the result of your curiosity?”
“What?” I don’t understand where he’s going with this.
“Did the camera have anything interesting on it?”
I fumble for words.
He smiles at me in the mirror, and says “I know the answer.”
“What do you mean,” I ask?
“You watched the video, didn’t you.”
I can’t meet his gaze. I mumble something.
He laughs again, “Yes, or no?”
I’m blushing furiously, trying to look away.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Did you like what you saw?”
I shake my head as much as his grip allows, but my mouth betrays me, “yes…”
“Who do you think had you last night?”
I start with shock, “You, of course!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I cry, “now I have to get back to the kitchen, I’ve left things out.”
He lets go of me, but pushes the bedroom door closed before I can leave.
“Sweetie,” he takes my hand and leads me to the bed, “Sit and watch the film.”
“B b but..”
“No protests, sweetie. I want you to watch it.” He flips the camera screen open, hits play, and pushes the camera into my unresisting hands. He pulls up the chair from my dresser, and sits watching me. I hear myself speak his name on the camera, and I can’t look away.
Half way through the film, as the man enters me, I drag my eyes away. “Yes, I looked already. Why do you have a film of two people having sex?”
He just looks at me, and I feel like he’s reading me inside and out. He knows. He knows that I know.
“Watch. The. Film.”
I can’t ignore that tone. I turn my eyes back to the screen and watch the stranger fucking me, again. In spite of myself, I can feel my pulse quicken as I listen to my cries. Finally, the movie ends, and I put the camera down to find him watching me intensly.
“Watching that excited you, didn’t it?”
I can’t deny it, he knows me too well.
“Touch yourself for me please.”
I jerk in surprise.
“You’re excited. I want to watch you touch yourself.”
Not knowing what else to do, I obey him. Off comes the t-shirt, and I start to touch my breasts. We’ve done this before sometimes – he watches me play with myself for a while before he joins in. I puch my leggings and panties down, and try to tease him into joining me quickly, this feels so uncomfortable. No matter how much I try to tease him, writhing, calling his name softly, he just sits there. He guides me a little, telling me how to touch myself, watching me intently, then he starts to talk about the video. He asks me can I imagine what the woman in the video was feeling, restrained, touched. I can’t help but remember, and under his prompting, I’m soon crying out my climax.
When I’m done, he llifts me to my feet and holds me for a moment. Smiling, he tells me “Go take a shower.”
“Will you join me,” I try to tease?
“You take a shower.” He guides me to the ensuite with a smile.
I step in, and he closes the door behind me.
I start the shower, unsure what to think. As the water casacdes over me, and I shampoo my hair, I wonder why he didn’t join me, on the bed or in the shower. Have I upset him? But he took me to the Hall! Was I meant to know, to resist somehow? Was he there waiting for me to protest, to stop it? But he set it up, he *gave* me to the stranger!
As I start to rinse off, I wonder, is something wrong with me?
I step out of the shower, and start to try myself down. I find myself back infront of the mirror, applying my moisturiser. I like the way I look. Then I pause. Is that why he didn’t join me? Am I no longer attractive enough for him? I turn in front of the mirror. My complexion is good, no blemishes. My hair is getting longer, its past halfway down my shoulderblade now. He always said he liked my hair long. My breasts are shapely and symetrical, with no sign of sagging. No children yet to wear them down. I smooth my hands across my belly. Maybe not as flat as I like to think. Am I putting on weight? Is that what’s bothering him?
Good legs, cleanly shaven. Are my calves losing their tone? Now I’ve started, I can’t stop worrying. What if he is losing interest in me? What do I do? I don’t want to lose him!
I can start back at the gym again. I used to go, but fell out of the habbit last year when there was all that overtime and we just wanted to curl up together at the end of the day.
But what if he really doesn’t want me? He gave me to someone else! Is he trying to get rid of me? Is he hoping I’ll protest and what he did, and leave him, so he doesn’t have to admit he doesn’t want me anymore?
But when I got back, he said I did well. Like he already knew I enjoyed it. He said he was proud of me. What for? What did I do to be proud of? I let a stranger fuck me!
Is that what he wants? What if he does it again? Do I let him? I could refuse as soon as he brings the blindfold out. I know now. But we’ve used a blindfold at home before occasionally. I can’t panic every time I see it. If I start saying “no” all the time, he’ll soon be sick of me.
He knows I enjoyed it. He’s seen the film even if he didn’t watch at the time. There’s no pretending that I didn’t enjoy it, that I wasn’t moaning like a slut. He saw the way I kissed the guy afterwards, and when I got home…
He wasn’t mad.
He knew. He knew! He’d heard me moan while the stranger fucked me, watched me push back against him. nad when I got home…
…he praised me.
He said I took it well.
He said he was proud of me.
Is that what he wants? He wants to give me to people, watch them fuck me? And be proud that I do it well?
Then I will. Whoever he gives me to, I’ll fuck them as well as I can. Hold nothing back. I’ll make him proud, and he’ll want me again! I won’t say anything, I’ll do what he wants, show him how good a slut I can be for him.
My mind made up, I slide naked into the bed, and hope my husband returns soon.
One last thought crosses my mind as I drift into sleep – Who will he give me to next?