This is part of a series of stories my wife and I are writing, documenting our forays into bdsm over the last year or so. This one is actually a combination of several evenings, rolled into one story for better flow. Feedback is welcome.
Mila sat in her chair, barely listening to the sappy speech from the groom’s brother and best man. Ok, we get it, your little brother is amazing, She thought, Wrap it up. She was happy enough for the newlyweds, and the ceremony had been nice, but at the moment she didn’t care about any of that – she was completely focused on him.
Her Sir sat halfway turned from her in his chair, respectfully listening to the speech. He held a half-full flute of champagne in his left hand. His right wrist rested on Mila’s knee, a couple of his fingers lightly touching her calf. A slight tingle radiated from each point of contract, as if she were brushing against bare wires on a low voltage circuit.