Best Served Cold

Best Served Cold - Chapter 17, What He Does to Me, David

"What were you two talking about out there?" she asked, as I sat on the bed by her side. "Plotting how to tie me up and fuck me again? By the way, I really need to pee, so untie me?"

"Hmmm, I don't know...I was planning on having my way with you like that. Maybe get a little taste of what Michael got tonight?"

"David, I'm sorry - I ache down there. I don't think I could and be very convincing. But untie me, and I promise to do slutty things for you. I am your little slut now, aren't I?"

"You mean Michael's little slut too, don't you? Both of us own you now. Both of us get to use your body whenever we want, right? And we will use you, until you can't take any more." I thought maybe I'd get what I wanted by falling back into the game. But then again, what had she meant by "slutty things'? So I untied her.

She came strolling back to me a while later in a tiny fishnet crop top and matching thigh-high stockings, part of the scandalous Halloween costume she had bought years ago. After teasing me back then, all too convincingly, that she would wear it to a neighborhood party, she had only dared to wear for me later that same night. If she was trying for "slut", she couldn't have been closer to the mark.

She pushed me back on the bed and straddled me. "Hands over your head, and keep them there, mister. I'm going to destroy you."

Her tongue was on me everywhere, first on my neck, then lingering over my chest and stomach in slow, maddening circles. When I reached for her, she stopped.

"Hands up, fantasy boy. You don't get to touch. You get to watch, you get to imagine your cock in me, and maybe, if you're a good boy, you get to come."

I reached up above my head again, pretending to be bound the way she had been just minutes before. She straddled me, trapping my erection between her slick pussy lips, gliding back and forth along the length of my cock. Michael's semen was everywhere, coating my cock with slippery globs of cum that continued to leak from deep within her. I couldn't take my eyes off her gyrating hips and narrow, twisting waist as she rode me. She turned her head to the side with a little smile, closed her eyes, and raised her arms over her head, flaunting her flawless, upturned breasts to t o r t u r e me.

Suddenly, she collapsed with a thump onto my chest, slapping the bed with her arms, then crawling slowly down until she could take my sopping wet cock in her mouth. She attacked it fiercely for a while, shaking her head from side to side as she sucked me deeply into her mouth. Eventually she slowed and liked it lovingly, whirling her tongue over the head, lapping and sucking my precum like it was strawberry candy. Then she clenched the base with her fist, held it erect, and pretended to study it.

"Hmmm...you're very hard, David. Does this mean you liked watching my Master fuck your wife tonight?"

She took me in her mouth again and sucked me softly and slowly as she waited for my answer.

"I loved watching him fuck my wife tonight," I said, gasping as I tried to delay my release so she could tell me more.

Her eyes were on me again, staring, sparkling in the flickering light.

"He was sooo good, David. You saw that, didn't you? What he does to me when we fuck? His big cock sliding in, and out, and in, and out of me..."

She took me in her mouth again, still staring up at me while she licked and sucked. Then she stopped again, smiling her wifey smile at me.

"I love taking his cum in my mouth, David. There's sooo much of it, but I take all of it. You know how I like that, don't you?"

She began again, her lips closing and sucking on the head of my cock with her eyes still locked on mine. Then she was simply staring at the head of my cock, studying it again, inspecting it while she led me through the fantasy.

"I know what you want, David. You want to watch him come in me again, don't you? You want to see my Master put his big cock in me and flood me with his cum, don't you, David? And you want to cum too, at the same second he does. At the same second his big cock comes in your wife, don't you? You want it sooo badly..."

She began to suck harder, faster, using her tongue to lash at my cock as she devoured me. When I felt the tip of her tongue enter the sensitive opening in the head and burrow into me, I came instantly, c h o k i n g her with sudden jets of semen saved from hours of waiting until that perfect moment.

We lay quietly in the dark afterward, her body outlined by the glow of tiny lights still flickering about the room. She had thrown one bare leg over me, and was nuzzling my shoulder and neck. I could feel Michael's semen continue to trickle out of her, cool and wet on my thigh.

"Are you sorry you waited so long?" she whispered close to my ear.

"No, not really," I answered. "I just needed the time, I think. Time to get used to you fucking him, and time to be part of making it happen. I think Michael was glad I helped arrange it instead of risking the consequences if I hadn't been ready. He may not be 'in love' with you, but he really loves fucking you. I could tell he'd hate to give that up."

"Mmmm, so would I, fantasy boy. Are you really, really sure it doesn't upset you that I love his cock so much? It's mostly the idea though, that I'm married, and fucking this guy I had a college crush on. It's our dirty little secret, one only the three of us know about. Besides, I think you love having a slutty wife who has sex with other men. Right?"

"Other men? So there are others?"

She trailed her hand down to my cock and began to play with it.

"Would you like there to be? I could tell you stories about them, I mean, if there were other men, which there aren't. Yet."

She giggled when my erection came back to life.

"So, have you thought about it - which men you'd want to fuck? Anyone I might know? Or a guy like the one who flirted with you while you waited for Michael to pick you up for your 'date'? Some young stud who hits on you, one you don't even know?"

I was hard again at the prospect of some young, big-cocked guy taking her for a thirty minute fuck in a downtown hotel room in the middle of the day.

"Does it surprise you that I think about those things, David? What surprises me is that most husbands can't imagine their wives fantasizing about it. But we do, all the time. You know how men are around me. Some are so sure they have a chance to fuck me. If there's chemistry between us, or even if he just has a hot body, sometimes I'll imagine us together fucking, secretly, frantically in some hidden place where no one might find us. Just quick, anonymous sex, and then we're on our way, never to see each other again. It's the taboo, David - that I'm this dirty, slutty wife who decides to throw caution to the wind and fuck this handsome stranger."

"But that must be different now - now that I know you'll be fucking Michael? Is it still exciting for you to be that dirty little slut?"

She rolled on top of me, reached down and eased my cock inside her, then propped herself up on her elbows so I could see her grin.

"It's still exciting, David - not only because others might know I'm a dirty little slut, but because my husband knows too, and he loves it."

So pleased to get up this morning and discover two more chapters. Absolutely fantastic yet again. You're a great writer Don. Thank you for all the time and effort that has clearly gone into "Best Served Cold".
Peter C

Can't tell you how much that's appreciated, Peter. A few more chapters to go yet, but the end is near. I'm traveling next week, so I'm not sure I'll finish by tonight. Still editing the rest...

Don

just caught up with the story, versy sexy and horny

thanks Don
a36a sissy cuck to my wife

It's no great surprise that my favourite caption maker is brilliant storyteller too

Thanks so much, a36a and BumNote. Captions have taken back seat while I finish this, but they'll be back. Meanwhile, another new chapter. Hope you enjoy...

Don

Best Served Cold - Chapter 18, Gym Bunny

Our sex life reached a new level after that night. Michael often stayed the night and we took her together in our bed, but not always with cuffs and ropes. She'd lie between us, turning to Michael, then me, back and forth, playing with our cocks as we ran our hands over her eager body, exploring her mouth, breasts and pussy until she decided to choose one of us to ride while the other watched. The size difference between Michael and I became more of a fascination to me than a cause for concern. Her labia seemed to clench the shaft of his cock as he fucked her, the reddened lips flaring, pushed aside by his girth. At times I could see the base of his cock swell when he buried it in her and held it there. She'd moan a little louder then, unknowingly confessing that 'bigger' meant more to her than she had admitted.

I watched from the foot of the bed more and more often, in time relating the way Michael's muscular ass contracted with the sounds she made. I found her moans were always louder when he filled her with the length of cock, stopped, then flexed and pumped the root so that it almost doubled in circumference. He'd stay like that, moving his hips in small, persistent circles against her clit. It was as though he could erase every sense of her surroundings, where she was, the time and day, even her awareness that she was my wife. She would breathe so deeply and reach out to him, tracing lines over his chest and belly with outstretched fingers. There was no wildness; only her gradual trembling that grew to uneven spasms over her belly just before she came. She worshiped him with words - how wonderful his cock felt inside her and that she never wanted to lose him. Ever. The orgasms he teased from her mesmerized her, allowing unrestrained desire for him pour out of her. Linda loved how relaxed she became after he finished her, but her words often chilled me, even though her voice was drenched with eroticism when they escaped her trembling lips.

"I can't help it - really David, I can't. He has this power over me, and it makes me want to be taken, played with, and used in ways that I have no power to resist. Maybe it's a lingering consequence of my time with Jordan. I have these dreams about giant men, monsters ten feet tall. They find me, pick me up in their massive hands, tear my clothes off, and fuck me with fingers as thick as ordinary men's cocks, always in ways that ordinary men never could. They play with me like I'm a toy, like I'm nothing. But I cum the instant one of them puts a finger in my mouth, or my ass, or my pussy. After they finish with me, I just stare at their immense cocks dangling there between their legs like thick, veiny ropes of meat. They're impossibly big, and I regret that I'd never be able to take one of them inside me. But then I consider begging them to try, even if it ruins me for all other men. Maybe they'd be so good I'd never want to fuck normal men again. After all, there were so many of them, and their cocks were so fucking huge. Maybe I'd be happy with that.

"I've thought about the dreams a lot, David. I've never been obsessed with the size of men's cocks before. It's always been about the chemistry between us, or his looks or self-confidence. It's about the effort and patience it takes to win me. Then I want to be his prize, one that's worth his effort, one he owns completely as long as I'm in his hands."

"Maybe it just means you want to have sex with a man who is big and strong enough to fuck you in ways men have never tried," I suggested. "Have you ever been with a man like that, Linda? A man who would effortlessly handle you like he would a helpless toy doll? A powerful man, the giant in your dream, whose fantasy is doing just that to a beautiful young wife?"

She stared at me for a while, finally growing a wide smile. "And where exactly would I find such a man, may I ask?"

"Maybe you haven't been paying attention," I offered. "You know, that place you go after work so many times a week? With big, strong, sweaty men who might do a beautiful young wife a favor or two?"

She was grinning now, looking down into her lap with embarrassment. "I guess I do think about them when I'm there watching them lift. God, David, am I dreaming about what I want to happen, and don't even realize it? Well - they do have great bodies. And a few have been staring at me a lot these days. I guess maybe they saw me staring too. Maybe I should go up to them and flirt a little?"

She looked at me for what? Approval, or permission? I just nodded slowly and grinned back at her.

One of my fantasies had always been that Linda would attract the attention of the serious bodybuilders at our gym. I often saw them staring, but none of them were willing to approach her when I was with her. After adding my fantasy to the others we talked about in bed before we fucked, she had let Michael know, and he offered to help. His gym was across the city from us, but he was more than glad to join ours for a while to help bring the new fantasy to life. I'm not sure what people thought of us, and eventually I didn't care. Linda and I arrived and left together, and Michael spent time with her as her trainer.

Often I thought that if I was a casual observer at the gym, Michael and Linda must have appeared to be the couple, and I their close friend. No one ever made it an issue, but I'm sure they wondered. I loved watching him put his hands on her, guiding and steadying her arms and legs as she hefted heavier and heavier weights. He'd stand back and watch her at times with a satisfied smile and an obvious bulge in his sweats. I watched them from a greater distance, careful not to reveal my own bulge. Her body began to change, and soon men at the gym couldn't ignore what they saw.

Her fitness addiction was born then, likely due to Michael's touch, but it continued long after that. I had always loved Linda's body, but as Michael's influence sculpted and refined it, she liked what she saw in the mirror day after day and began to choose more revealing workout clothes. The baggy sweats were a thing of the past, replaced with spandex that fit her like a second skin. The miniscule thong visible under it was, I had hoped, a clear sign to others that she might really be the little slut in our games. Men looked and drooled, but no one tried to fuck her. Michael wasn't a huge guy, but his attitude, how he seemed so protective and seriously attached to her, kept all of them at bay.

In time, when Michael's business required more and more travel, she hired one of the gym's personal trainers, the legendary "Tiny". He was known throughout the city as a miracle worker, an upbeat, high energy trainer used by local competitors in both state and national fitness and bodybuilder competitions. He rarely took on new clients, but after seeing Linda work like a demon in the gym, he was impressed enough to make an exception. He could only make time for her one day a week, but I could see how excited she was on those days.

Tiny's body was the envy of the gym. He was a massive tower of cut muscle with unrivaled symmetry and proportion. Women fought for his attention and stared as if fucking him would the ultimate prize. But Tiny was all business, friendly enough, but not willing to be seen as a womanizing celebrity.

Linda's brief "affair" with Tiny was a series of clandestine, frenzied fuck sessions that lasted only a month before he put an end to it. As reluctant as he had been to keep a spotless reputation with his clients, Linda had been his only exception. As her body ripened, so did her skills at seduction, thanks to Michael's acting advice and past lessons in manipulation. I was never quite sure how she broke through Tiny's armor. She warned me an advance she'd like to try, and how she might do it became one of our bedtime fantasies. She had no doubts that her fantasy of fucking Tiny was more than fine with me. My cock told her that.

I remember how she looked that night after fucking him for the first time. If there was a word for both "radiant" and "used", I failed to find it. She hadn't changed out of her workout gear, and the way the thin, sweaty material clung to her breasts and ass revealed more of her body than she'd ordinarily expose in public. She let me know by slowly stripping in front of me, then taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom without a word. Her workouts often made her horny, but this was something else.

"He was just like I thought he'd be, David. I felt so small in his hands, so easily taken and used by him. He was a little rough with me, but I'm sure he forgets his own strength sometimes. Still, I love the way he handled me, like I was his plaything. He had a nice cock, but I really didn't care that much compared to how I felt in his hands. We didn't have much time, but we both came, and at almost exactly the same time. It was wonderful."

It went on like that, once a week, after they finished their workout together. She'd come home to me on those nights and head for the shower before we fucked - until I begged her not to. I wanted her the way he left her, the thin sheen of their sweat mingling with mine, the odor of their fucking spawning images of them together in my head as Linda teased me with the details. I began to look forward to those special nights, although I'm sure not as much as she loved their "workouts".

Between her workouts, we became obsessed with her time with him. The fantasies we concocted as little stories became reality the next time she was with him. She stripped for him to her favorite songs, then to ones he chose himself. He was reliably hard when they fucked, and timed his orgasms so they came together every time. When she sucked him, he came quickly. "He likes me on my knees," she told me. "He says it's all about having a horny wife at his feet, swallowing his cum as though I'm servicing him, like I'm his sex slave. Little did he know that it's, well, my 'thing', and doing it is something I look forward to. If he knew that you get off imagining me as his sex slave, well, I'm not sure what he'd think. I haven't told him you know yet. I just might keep it to myself for a while, maybe get to know him better first."

I can't remember cumming harder than I did on those nights when she dished out the details, one by one, of their fuck-sessions together. She'd ride me and tease me, always stopping to ask if I liked hearing about the powerful giant who was fucking my wife. Sometimes her descriptions were so raw, so deeply revealing about her craving for him, I was at a loss for a reply.

There seemed to be something magical about Linda's workouts with Tiny. Her body changed at a surprising rate. Her walk was sexier, her body a perfectly tuned machine. She moved with both precision and grace, and could choose to sway her hips just enough to make any man crazy for her. Still, I wondered whether regular sex with Tiny contributed to the overall effect. On days when Linda and I arrived and left the gym together, I noticed knowing glances between them, and she had picked up a little of his swagger when she retired to the showers after our workouts.

Men at the gym began to look at her in a different way. Many admired her progress, but plenty of them stared like they'd give anything to fuck her, just once. Then Tiny would join her, and they'd scurry away like roaches. She told me it was fine with her. Tiny was her man there. The rest were merely boys with boners who would never keep up with her to give her what she needed. "They're so cute," she told me once. "So much testosterone and so much to learn. I took one or two of them aside where no one would see and asked them to take out their cocks and show me if they wanted me. They would just stare at me and slink away. If they knew what kind of games we play, they'd fold in a minute. If they knew how rough we play, they'd go screaming into the night, pissing themselves along the way. I've decided boys like that need a little rejection to grow up properly. The spoiled arrogant ones don't make me wet - they make me laugh. And I can tell you, David, they don't take that well at all. But they still want my body. Can you imagine it, David? All those boys jerking off later to fantasies of fucking your wife? All those poor, desperate boys... "

"So, you don't think they'll ever learn, I mean, to be the kind of men you'd ever consider fucking?"

"Some might, but I don't have time to wait. Let the real little sluts and whores train them. There are real men right now who know how to fuck - so many, sometimes it's hard to choose. But there's only one in a hundred, or maybe a thousand, that knows how to get my pussy dripping with just a word or two when we first meet. I work much too hard on this body to give it to just anyone. Tiny's the one right now. But that was your idea, so I'm sure you know that, right? After giving me to Michael, Tiny's the best gift a wife could get from her husband."

It was shocking at first to hear Linda admit so openly how her attitude toward men had changed. But her work ethic had always been one of persistence and determination. Her new body had become the envy of every woman at the gym, and she had been obsessive about earning each sleek line and curve with hours of sweat and pain. I had always found her body to be deliciously irresistible, but it was the first time she herself had outwardly spoken of her body as a prize, awarded only to men she considered worthy of it.

Social events together were always a mix of excitement, surprise, and sometimes disappointment for me. As Linda began to show off her new body in more revealing clothes, she was constantly surrounded by men who thought they detected a fraying marriage, a wife gagging for sex and a husband far out of her league. Sometimes it was a game we played. I'd fade into the crowd and Linda flirted while I watched intently from a distance like a cuckolded husband helpless to prevent her infidelity. Some of her admirers would see my reaction as a sign she was available, and she would tell me later that night in bed how they promised her they could satisfy her in ways I couldn't.

"He was so certain, David - that he could fuck me better than you can. He really did want to fuck your wife, even with you right there at the party. Would you have wanted to watch, David? Watch him put his big cock in me? Watch him make me cum? Would you, David? Would you?"

After witnessing a night of seduction, it only took a few words to make me come in her. Then after, she'd cuddle beside me and let me know why her suitor failed to win the prize, likely qualities Michael or Tiny had but he did not. How many times had she told me, "I could tell he'd just never 'get' who am, or what I need."

The rare nights of disappointment came when her pursuer was worthy, and I'd be left on my own as he swept her away into the night to use her. Still, whether she'd be gone for an hour, or until sunup, she'd never fail to drag me to bed and tease me with the details while we fucked. There was no concern about her infidelity - that was sanctioned long ago as part of the game. It was the cloud of loneliness and abandonment that descended over me moments after he won her and took her away that made me want to run from the public place to the comfort of our home where I could shake off the fleeting loss and replace it with fantasies of how she would ride him and cum on his cock. I never confessed those feelings to Linda. They were light as a feather compared to the weighty eroticism of the game, but sometimes a mere feather can tip the scales. She may never have understood the pinpricks of angst held like unseen cards in the game, and there was no need to play them. She held unseen cards as well, and it was understood that each of us had the right to hold them close to the chest.

Linda never became the fictional slut wife we imagined in our most outrageous fantasies. Fucking strangers was rare for her, but that made it all the more special when she did. Much of the time it was spontaneous, and she'd come home glowing, with another dirty story to confess as we fucked later that night. She'd parcel out brief details as she rode me, falling silent between each one until I begged for more. Watching her hard body drove me nearly insane as she described how the guy licked and sucked every inch of her, then eased his cock into my wife and used her body for hours as if it belonged to him.

I came to realize that showing off her body was nearly as exciting to her as fucking her ultimate fantasy man. Her fitness program included morning and evening runs through our neighborhood. As her many hours in the gym became an obsession, her running clothes gradually changed from oversized T-shirts to brief sports bras and tiny nylon shorts that displayed the round, bare crescent of her ass cheeks to those men on the street she knew would notice. I'd watch from our window when she exited our building, hoping to catch the passing men on the street stare as she stretched before each run on the sidewalk below. I never had to wait long. Few men could resist. Then she'd run through the city in her "fuck me" outfit while I imagined how men would hope that just maybe she'd notice them, stop for a chat, and take a morning detour to a nearby hotel for a quick, early morning fuck.

But there were also times when she'd plan and plot to seduce a man she had to have. She'd reveal her plan to me little by little, over days or weeks, always adding her fantasies of what she hoped it would be like to fuck him. She'd lie naked on our bed, her amazing body stretched out before me, and I'd play with her while she fantasized about fucking him in a faraway, dreamy voice. She described each part of his body and what she'd do with it, saving his cock for last when she was close to cumming. Then came the final pleading - "You want him to fuck me, don't you David. You want to give him my body and have him slide his dick in me, don't you? And you want him to empty all of his thick cum in me until I can't hold any more then watch it drip from my pussy, don't you? Tell me, David. Tell me you want all that. Because it's what I want - all of it and more..."

And so I did, all while fingering her engorged clit until she came on my hand, telling me how good his cock would feel when she finally seduced him. I knew, each and every time, that she would succeed. Few could resist her. Her body was at first luscious bait, then finally a weapon that delivered the final blow, shattering his defenses. And yet, she returned to our bed night after night, determined to fuck me, or watch intently as she milked me and I came in her hand. And she never forgot to thank me for giving her to other men as I had once promised. "I never imagined married sex could be like this," she told me. "All because you told me that night, long ago, that you could 'look the other way' when Michael and I fucked."

Thank you Don. I love this latest chapter and how Linda changed and grew. I saw that to a degree with my now ex-wife and can even see it now with my new young lady, though I doubt she'll ever go as far as my ex did. Just her confessing to chatting to a guy online and her seeing I'm not upset about it, has given her confidence a boost.
Peter C

Thanks, Peter. I'll admit there are threads in the story taken from our past, but only as minor influences. There was/is a Michael still in our lives, although her interest in the gym came much before that.

Don

Best Served Cold - Chapter 19, Return to the Excelsior

"How long has it been now, since our first night here? It must be..."

"A little over three years," I reminded her.

Linda sat across from me in the corner booth at the Excelsior Hotel bar. The waiter had just set her second strawberry daiquiri on the table in front of her, and she lifted it to take a sip as though she was savoring her first.

"It seems longer," she mused, as she casually ran her finger over the chilled bowl of her glass.

"Well, a lot has happened - we've changed since that night," I offered.

"For the better, don't you think?" She looked up at me, gazing into my eyes, hopeful that her suggestion was one I agreed with.

I smiled at her, lifted my single malt, and took a generous gulp. Its familiar sting at the back of my throat never disappointed, and after, the velvet aftertaste was pure luxury. It was my first, and I was ready for a second. The service had improved, and not a sliver of ice had diluted the rich, amber liquid to a paler color or taste.

"Are you kidding? You do remember that first night here, don't you?" I reminded her, astonished that she could entertain any answer but the right one.

"I remember it, but I'm sure not the way you do. You really believed us, didn't you - that Michael's 'Stephan' had completely owned me - well, owned my body, at least. For a long time after that night I regretted it. I was just so angry at you for a while I couldn't admit it. My God, thinking back, it was a savage assault on your male ego. But sometimes I wonder if it was the seed that grew over time and led us to where we are today. You don't regret that? Not at all? Are you happy, David?"

It was an easy answer, one without hesitation or need for thought. "How could I not be, Linda? We tell each other things we could never say out loud before. You may still have a few dirty little secrets, but I know you better than I ever could have hoped. Your little secrets are what make me want you even more. Making love is as tender and intimate as ever, and fucking is now a world of infinite imagination and possibilities."

I understood her concern. We had been through this a thousand times, but there seemed never to be a time when another tiny thread of doubt and regret wasn't unraveled and discarded.

"So, do you miss him?" I asked.

"He's been gone for a year now, but sometimes I do. It was harder at first when he moved back to New York. It's made him famous, and I've never blamed Michael for leaving, for winning the part in that soap opera that made his dream come true. But I'm not that college coed anymore; I don't think of him every day, or wonder constantly if he might love me someday."

"But you do miss him a little? Maybe when you see him on TV?" I asked.

I recognized her sigh of frustration all too well, and that hint of a smile that followed it. "I haven't seen him or talked to him since he left. I hope he's still a friend, that we'll always be friends, but to be honest, what I miss most, David, is his cock."

"You mean his big cock."

"Well, at least now you know," she admitted, not trying to hide her sly smile. "But what I miss more is having two cocks in my bed. I miss knowing two men I adore want my body constantly, and that both could make me come in so many different ways. Either separately or together, I belonged to both of you; two unique, skillful lovers who cared for me and fucked me like there was no other woman on earth like me."

Her smile faded as she spoke. She was giving me what was in her heart and mind, allowing it pour out of her without censoring or fear of how I'd accept it. She was silent for a minute, took another sip of her d r i n k, and looked up at me with a raised eyebrow as if to ask whether her answer satisfied me.

"You'd still like that again though, wouldn't you?" I asked. "There will be, um, 'opportunities' wherever we go. I see how men look at you. So many men want you - men we don't even know. But I suppose none of them could replace Michael in your eyes, or maybe even in your heart."

I wasn't entirely sure of the answer I'd get - possibly one I didn't want to hear. I had said "Michael" and "in your heart" together in the same breath.

"Everything is different now, David. You, me, Michael - each of us has changed so much. Michael has moved on, and soon, so will we. With your promotion, we'll make a new life a thousand miles away from here. I really don't mind leaving at all. We can live very well on your new salary, and I'll enjoy not working, at least for a while. I can spend my free time decorating our new home - we'll finally have a yard and the peace and quiet of the countryside. There's also the potential privacy we've never enjoyed in the city. I'm sure you know what that could mean for us." She stopped then, waiting to be certain I understood. I did. "I love the quaint little village, and the city is less than thirty minutes away. I want this every bit as much as you do, David. If someone like Michael comes along, and we agree we want him in our life, who knows? But I'm not looking for his replacement. After my history with him, I doubt there is another Michael quite like him."

I watched her expression as she spoke, and was reminded of how exquisitely her looks had changed. No one would take her for the perfect housewife now, the girl with a softness of both character and body that once provided cover for her growing, perverse fantasies. She had cut her hair shorter in a more severe style. The straight curtain of dark, gleaming ebony followed the line of her jaw, freely exposing the nape of her neck. It made her a stylish woman of confidence and determination. The lines of her body were sleek and hard, with a trace of firm muscle that rose to reveal itself when she stretched her legs or wore the sleeveless tops that exposed her bare arms and shoulders. Her face was less heart-shaped, with finely chiseled cheekbones that could have belonged to any one of the most highly paid fashion models. Everyone we knew could see at first glance how her body had changed, thanks to Michael's direction during her initial workouts with him at the gym. She had been addicted to it ever since. It showed with every step she took; the lithe, panther-like stride turned heads everywhere she went. Yes, Michael had definitely changed us, in more ways than one.

"Which brings us to why we're here tonight," she said, "to make the night our lasting memory of the Excelsior instead of the one we'd both like to forget. Tonight, you own me, David. I'll do whatever you say, be whatever you want me to be. I see some very attractive men here tonight. Tell me to flirt with them, and I will. Tell me to pick one and I'll play the slut for you. Tell me to fuck him, and I will, upstairs in the room we've taken for the night. Or, when the curtain falls on our little play, I can take you to our room and you can be him, the man who fucks a wife while her husband waits here in the bar, agonizing over the size of your cock. It's all for you, David. Everything I am tonight is for you."

I had expected a game, but not one that handed me the master key to her submissive fantasies. It was to be how we'd remember not only our last night at the Excelsior, but our last night in the city as well. How was I to know how potentially scandalous her game was meant to be? I wasn't certain myself how far I was willing to go to reconstruct the memory of 'Stephan's' Svengali-like hold on her back then, his hand between her legs, fingers working deeply in her wet pussy as she came for him just across the table from me.

"You would really choose a guy here to flirt with and fuck tonight? All I'd have to do is order you to do it? As though I was Stephan, or even Jordan?"

"What else would you have me do, David? I'm not wearing panties, so having me take them off isn't an option like it was back then. And there are so many young guys here tonight. But I'd really prefer the choice was mine, if you want one of them to have me. Not all young, hung guys are, um, deserving of my body. I hope you'd agree."

Her words shocked me for a second, almost paralyzing me where I sat. She offered up her fantasy with such a perverse mix of lasciviousness and sweetness that it seemed to hang in the air between us, demanding I get hard for her the second she had said it.

"You know I'm playing with you, don't you David? That I'm completely in your hands? That I'm only guessing what you want me to be tonight? If I'm wrong, just tell me what you want from me."

When I didn't answer, she reached across the table and gently put her hands on mine.

"Now that I've fucked - I mean, 'fuck', other men now and then, it never hurts you when I tell you about those men, does it? You're not at all sorry we've come to this? Sorry that you've agreed I'm free to do it?"

"Have I given you any clue that I have?" I asked.

"Of course not, David. But do you ever think of me as, I don't know, maybe a genuine slut, in the true sense of the word? That I'm constantly on the prowl for men with the biggest cocks, and I fuck them for sport, and go on my merry way, completely guiltless, like some kind of amoral predator? Because sometimes I worry that you might think that, even if it's an occasional, one-time, afternoon fling with a sexy stranger. It's why I always rush home to tell you and have you fuck me when I do."

"Well, there haven't been that many, have there? You always tell me, and we always fuck while you weave a story from your time with them. Why? Have there been more than I know? Many more?"

"Only the ones you know about," she promised. "Tiny and Michael, and a few others I've confessed to who were entirely forgettable. But I'm not blind to the fact that lots of men want me, it seems more of them now than ever. And I know I can't have any man I see, but I know I have a good chance with someone if I really try. But I want him to try too. These days most of the time I need him to pursue me, to want me badly enough to win me. I want to be a challenge to him, a fearless woman he doesn't fear. It weeds out the d r u n k s and players who'll fuck anyone who massages to their egos for a second or two. The best men are surprises, ones that appear by chance that 'get' me, that can keep up with my vague hints at what I like and who I am. But even they have to work me. The difference is they're the ones who know what the prize is and are willing to do what it takes to win it."

She tilted her head and squinted at me, as she had when I had tried to explain Schrodinger's cat to her for the first time. "I thought you knew better by now, David. It's always been a game we've played together. It still is, and always will be. But there are labels, ones people use that hurt. It would crush me if you began to think of me that way. That I'm that easy."

It was my turn to take her hands in mine, lifting them of the table between us. "The only labels I'd use to describe you are ones that would make you very wet, and me very hard, I promise."

And so drama had been brought into a game where there was to be none. The night was meant to exterminate the last remaining ghosts that inhabited the Excelsior. It was finally up to me to shake the last of them off, to detach their tenuous grip on me and send them to a place where they could only be recalled as harmless shadows of our past. It was time I stopped living in the past and play the game, and be the man Linda was counting on to do just that.

"Take a good look," I told her. "Is there a worthy cock for you in the house?"

"Mmmm, let me see. There are so many hot, young men here. More than enough, I think. Plenty looking for a horny wife to fuck," she teased, eying the room with a hungry smile.

"Why don't you find out, then?" I suggested. "Try promising him what's under your skirt, but twist him around your finger a bit first. I'd like to see that. But tell me, how will you know whether his cock is 'worthy'?"

Linda rose from her seat, turned to me, reached down and placed a hand on the front of my slacks, and gave my cock a light squeeze. "Sweetheart, this is how I always tell. After a little encouragement, it never lies."

The bar had morphed over the years. Once a refuge for weary businessmen routinely booked at the Excelsior, it had been redecorated and reborn as an upscale hipster hangout where new money and inflated egos kept prices high and chased travelers on expense accounts to less expensive watering holes. Yet, there had never been an ego Linda couldn't massage, weaving tendrils of solicitation through the most formidable shields against intrusion. She was a match for the best of them, eventually pulling the strings, making them forfeit whatever game she chose. They all imagined they were seducing her, when in fact, milking what she wanted from them was both a natural talent and a seemingly supernatural f o r c e to be reckoned with.

I watched her stroll to the bar, rolling her hips just a fraction more than was decent for an unassuming wife. Our booth was hidden away well enough that I was sure no one knew we shared it, and the attention she drew from those at the bar grew with every passing second as she waited to order another d r i n k.

She had chosen something close to business attire for our last night there, her suit jacket closed over a scanty, black half-bra, black six-inch heels, and a very short black skirt flaunting an unending stretch of naked thigh. She wore a pair of huge, black-rimmed glasses I knew the hipsters would cream over. She was an office wet dream, and a jealous husband's worst nightmare.

Watching Linda work her men was fascinating, and she had more than her share to choose from there at the bar. She touched and fawned over them, promising one after another with her charm and sexy smile that he might be the one to put his cock in her later. Eventually she lavished more attention on one lucky guy, and the others drifted away into a hungry sea of women more their own age. I was astonished when she brought him to our booth and ushered him in beside her.

"David, this is Johnny. Johnny, this is my date tonight, David."

He put up a good front, reaching across the table to shake my hand, smiling at me like he might just send me packing before the night was over. I wondered what she had promised him.

"David, it so happens that Johnny and I have met before. You remember the guy I told you about at the cafe when I was waiting for Michael to pick me up? That first time he took me to his place to fuck me?"

Johnny's smile faded a bit. He looked at Linda, then me, than back again at Linda, as though he was waiting for the punchline.

"I understand you like married women, Johnny," I said with as sober a face as I could manage.

Johnny began to sweat a little, suspecting this wasn't going to be his usual night out.

"I - I guess I do. But you must too, right, David?"

"I guess I do, Johnny," I answered, with an obviously arrogant grin. "I like them because they'll do all kinds of things for me - things they'd never do for their husbands. Isn't that right, Linda?"

Linda sighed, looked down at the table, then rolled her eyes up at me. "You're not going to tell him, are you? I mean, some of the things you make me do - they're just so - filthy and disgusting. Really, David, you just go too far sometimes." She looked over at Johnny, staring deeply into his eyes. "My husband's so afraid of him - terrified, in fact. So, he just lets David have me when he wants my body." Suddenly she looked back at me and beamed with pride. "But that's my David. He always gets what he wants. Always."

"That I do, Johnny. That I do," I told him. He inched away from Linda and smiled, somewhat painfully. "So, Johnny, what do you like about our Linda? I mean, the first time you saw her, what about her got you hard? Her tits? Maybe her legs? She's got great legs, doesn't she? But she told me you met outside, right? With lots of people around? You probably didn't get a really good look."

Johnny was out of words, and I was sure I could see his hand shake a little when he lifted his beer.

"C'mon, Linda, help him decide. Give him a better look at your tits. Go on. Open the jacket and lose the bra."

Linda twisted toward Johnny in the booth, unfastened the single button at the front of her jacket, and held it open. She was completely naked under it except for the tiny half-bra, and her nipples began to harden in the chilly air.

"Go on, Johnny - give those nipples a little pinch. She loves that. Sometimes, when we fuck, I bite them so hard they're sore for days. But then she is a little pain freak, aren't you, baby?"

"You said you wouldn't tell, David," she murmured as she exposed herself to her new find.

"That's okay, I believe you," Johnny said as he moved a few more inches away from her.

"Aww, Jesus, Johnny, I'll bet you're waiting for all of it, right? So you can feel her up and suck those pretty titties? Go on, Linda, show him all of it."

Linda unhooked the front of the bra and withdrew it from under her jacket, still facing Johnny, thrusting her chest toward him, offering everything to him.

"Now, those are some fine tits, aren't they Johnny? It's okay, taste 'em. Give 'em a good lick and suck. She loves that, don't you, baby?"

Linda gave me a quick glance and rolled her eyes. Maybe I was overacting. Johnny's eyes were as big as my glass, searching feverishly around the column that hid our booth for anyone who might see or hear.

"I - I just thought that - um - she was alone," he stammered, "and that - maybe she liked me, and..."

"And that maybe she'd fuck you, right?" I joked. "Well, now that's a possibility Johnny, but she's very picky about certain things. The last guy that picked her up, well, his cock was, let's say, just average. And that really pissed her off, right baby?"

Linda's smile was so wide I thought her face may crack. "You know I like them big, David. Huge, actually. Little dicks do piss me off. I guess I'm so used to yours that anything smaller...well, my pussy deserves better. If they don't measure up, I let everyone know. I just can't help myself when I get angry."

"And let me tell you, Johnny, that is some sweet, tight pussy. C'mon baby, pull your skirt up. Show the boy what I mean."

Linda paused and glared at me. Would she really let me push her further than 'Stephan' had? She had promised to make the night a lasting memory of the Excelsior, one that would erase my night of h u m i l i a t i o n there. She had said it just minutes before: "I'll play the slut for you." How far did she intend to go to let me be 'Stephan'?

She raised herself up slightly and hiked the skirt to her waist, meeting my challenge with her famous, evil grin. Pulling one knee up onto the bench, she canted her hips upward as though she was meeting the thrust of the best and biggest cock she had ever enjoyed. Johnny stared, his mouth gaping, his back against the wall at the end of the booth. This was my final hour, my finest hour, if only Linda would pass the baton from 'Stephan' to me.

"You know, Johnny, when she cums, you wouldn't believe the look on her face. And the sounds she makes - well, it's a wonder to behold. Go on, Linda. Show him. If his dick isn't up to what your pussy deserves, it may be the only time he sees anything like it."

I wasn't sure whether Linda was determined to show me she would do anything I asked, or whether she was determined to show Johnny what he may see when he fucked her. I moved to the bench on their side of the booth to provide some cover as Linda dipped her finger between her glistening pussylips. I pressed against her from behind, and lowered my chin onto her shoulder by her ear.

"You want to suck him, don't you?" I whispered, just loud enough that Johnny would overhear. "You want to suck all of it out of him - every drop of his cum, don't you?"

She let her head fall back, rested it against mine, and whimpered her answer. "God, yes..."

"You want him to watch you cum, don't you? To show him how you slut for me."

"Oh, fuck, David - yessss," she hissed as she worked her fingers between her spread legs.

"Do you want to fuck her, Johnny? Just look at this angel face, begging for cock. Do you think that you could possibly satisfy her? Is your cock big enough, Johnny?"

Linda whimpered at those words, and her body trembled against me. I wondered if she could actually cum in public. She had claimed she faked her orgasm in this same booth with 'Stephan', and she had convinced me that all her confessions of that night were true.

Johnny stared at her drenched pussy, unable to answer a single one of my questions.

I circled my arm around her and held her breast in the palm of my hand, trapping the nipple between my two middle fingers, scissoring them open and closed, pinching and pulling at the unbearably sensitive, pink flesh. When I put my mouth on her neck and sucked, her body suddenly bolted and spasmed. She began to cry out in short little mews like a hungry kitten, and I moved my hand to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds as they increased in pitch and intensity until she slowly quieted and collapsed against me, gasping and panting.

To my surprise, she turned to me quickly and urgently, took my face in her hands, and kissed me deeply for a very long time. "It was all for you," she whispered. "I belong to you. Only you."

Linda motioned to Johnny to follow us as we left. The three of us walked to the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Once inside, Linda pressed the button for the wrong floor and the doors closed. As I reached for the one above it, she stopped me and shook her head just once, flashing me a quick, private smile. When the doors opened, she turned to Johnny, put her hand down his pants, and fished for his cock. Then, in the cruelest finish of false promises, she told him, "Oh, Johnny, I'm afraid that would never be enough for me tonight. But as you told me there in the cafe that day, 'maybe some other time, then?'" She pushed gently against his chest until he backed out through the doors, and the elevator ascended to the floor and room where she had craved Michael's cock on that infamous night, years ago.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 20, Dirty Little Whore

"So, this is it. The room where you 'almost' fucked Michael? Does it look the same?" I asked.

Linda gave the surroundings a quick glance, but didn't seem interested. "I didn't memorize the furniture or the carpet, David. I was here to put the final touch on our little play. But I'm as wet as I was then. So, will you use me like I wished Michael would have? That's what I want tonight."

She stood waiting under a small, recessed ceiling light just inside the door. The rest of the room lay mostly in darkness, and she appeared to be purposefully placed on display in the cone of light. I took a seat and stared, making her wait. She unbuttoned her jacket, lifted her chin a little into the light, and rested both hands on her outer thighs, posing like some disciplined office priss turned X-rated diva. The play had begun.

"Take off your clothes. I want to see you."

Her posture changed immediately from 'proud' to 'accommodating'.

"Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir," she said, her voice now submissively demure.

She removed her glasses, bent her knees, and lowered herself gracefully to place them on the floor beside her. The jacket was next, shrugged from her shoulders and lowered to the floor as well, folded, just as I imagined she had done for Michael. After wriggling it over her hips and thighs, the skirt fell to the carpet in a dark, discarded circle around her ankles. She stepped out of the scant puddle of material and kicked it aside.

"Keep the heels on," I ordered. "Turn around, slowly. Show me everything."

Again I imagined how she must have looked to Michael that night as she pivoted so slowly on those heels and offered her body to him. He must have seen the same mix of hunger and s u b m i s s i o n in her eyes, the same willing display of breasts, ass, legs and pussy, the same hint of glistening liquid seeping from between her plump labia. I wondered how he could have controlled his lingering desire for her, how he managed to refrain from putting her on the bed and fucking her until her screams could be heard throughout the hotel.

"Do you like showing off? Seeing men drool over your naked body?" I asked.

"Always, but especially for you."

"Do you do it so they'll fuck you?"

"Sometimes, yes. When I find a man I want to fuck."

"Or maybe it's just because you like seeing them get hard before you send them slinking away in frustration."

"Sometimes that, too," she replied, now eyeing me hungrily.

"Like you treated your Johnny tonight?"

"I'm sure he'll live. He got his show. He wouldn't touch me. He wasn't worthy. Besides, I've told you, I belong to you tonight. All of me - inside and out."

"Then show me. Turn around and bend over. Spread your ass cheeks. You have to give up everything to me, if you're worthy yourself."

"Yes, sir," she replied softly, her voice submissive once again.

I was stunned at first sight. I had never seen Linda hold this pose or position before. It excited me; yet, I couldn't fend off a degree of sympathy at seeing my wife made to humiliate herself, even though I was her only spectator, and for the night, her chosen master. But it was her fantasy, and a part of her path to erase my own h u m i l i a t i o n here years ago. I knew learning to play my part was the key to our growth, and to integrating her fantasies into our future sex life. It was time to man up.

I walked to her, opened my slacks, freed my erection into the light, and slid it into her without a word. Her pussy was slick and sopping wet with her juices, and I entered her easily and swiftly. Still, it surprised her, and I heard her grunt softly and felt her body react with a sudden, slight lurch forward. I held fast there, buried deeply inside her, holding her hips tightly against me with both hands. I could feel the regular contractions of her vagina beckoning for the thrusting she craved, but I withheld it, testing the limits of her frustration.

It was a difficult positon for her to hold, bent at the waist, arms supporting her as her hands dug into her thighs. The rhythm of her breathing became more irregular, and its pace and depth increased. I was unsure whether it was the result of my stubbornly motionless cock, or the surrender of her body's ability to sustain the tiring pose. But I wanted her words. I knew she would beg, and as her fantasy-master, I needed to hear it.

"P-please, sir - why won't you - fuck me? I - did everything - you wanted. Why?"

"You said your pussy belongs to me," I reminded her. "Were you just teasing me like you teased Johnny tonight? Was it a lie?"

"No, no - it's all for you. All of it! All of me!"

"Then if I own it, you can't complain about how I use it. If what you say is true, I can use it any way I want, can't I?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir. You can keep your cock in me forever. I do want it - all of it. Please forgive me for being so selfish?"

Again she stunned me - I had never heard her beg so mercilessly, or lower herself with such abject groveling to belong to a man, solely for his cock. This is what her sessions with Jordan must have resembled; I could imagine her helpless, naked body at his mercy, a starving supplicant at his feet, always willing to give up everything she was, craving the orgasms he denied her. And now she was reliving it willingly, promoting me, her husband, to the only master she could rely on for relief. But it was only after keeping her final reward tantalizingly out of reach that she begged sufficiently for my acquiescence.

I withdrew from her and stood her upright, facing me. I noticed her chin quiver, but her eyes told me she needed much more than I had given her. How could she suddenly have made herself seem so small, so vulnerable, so fragile? It was as though the proud, confident outer skin of the woman she had become was shed, exposing a raw, defenseless core of compliant surrender. My reaction was a heady mix of bewilderment and eroticism.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, then ran them slowly over her body, pausing under her breasts to lift and palm them, then trailed them lower over her shivering belly to her pussy. She parted her legs instinctively to let me in, and I pushed two fingers inside, cushioning her clit between them. She gasped, lost her footing a little and found it again with her feet planted another foot apart. She was dripping wet.

"I'm curious," I told her. "What is it you really want here? Oh, I know you want to cum, but how, exactly? Tell me what this tight little pussy is begging for tonight. Something very nasty, I'll bet."

I took her face in my hands as she considered her answer, tilting her head up and turning it from side to side as one might examine prize breeding stock. Her eyes were wild with expectation, windows f o r c e d wide open to expose the secrets within. If only I could have lowered a light to the bottom of that deep well.

"There - on the bed - I'll show you," she promised, her voice a nervous quaver of lust and feigned reservation.

"Then show me," I ordered. "I like little whores who aren't afraid to show me how constantly hungry for cock they really are."

Linda blanched at first when she heard the word - she never thought I'd go so far as to call her a whore. But then I caught her brief smile a second after, one of perverse satisfaction that I would dare use it. When she moved toward the bed, I stopped her.

"Not like that. You have to show me you're worthy, remember?" I didn't have to remind her; she had used the same word with Johnny only an hour before. She raised her eyebrows and almost succeeded in holding back a smile.

I retrieved a terrycloth sash from one of the hotel robes, stretching it between my fists as I approached her. Linda eyed it cautiously, taking a step back as I came closer.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, pretending it may be something more depraved than she was willing to suffer.

"Turn around," I ordered. When she obeyed, I pulled her arms behind her back and looped the sash around her wrists, tying it in a loose knot.

"I want you on your knees, here, in front of me."

She knelt slowly, carefully, showing a willing deference meant to amplify her s u b m i s s i o n.

"If you want my cock, you'll have to work to get to it. If you're worthy, you'll show me how much you want it."

"But, my hands..." she began. It was then she understood. Pulling the stiff leather of the belt through the loops on my slacks was the hardest. It was soaked with saliva by the time she finished, and she left a series of indentations along the edges where she had gnawed and tugged at it with her teeth. She crushed her face against me as she fought for the zipper, finally capturing it between her teeth and pulling it open in seconds. I watched in amazement as she worked my pants over my hips and down my legs, her hair whipping and slashing from side to side like some crazed a n i m a l in heat. Her determination and energy seemed limitless, and she was flushed and breathless when she finally freed my cock.

It was then she looked up at me with the face of a little girl, shaking me with her next words.

"Was I a good girl for you? Did I do everything right? Will you fuck me now, please?"

Her voice was higher pitched and fearful, as though she might be punished for failing to accomplish an almost impossible task in the expected time or fashion. I froze there, letting my part in the play fall away, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of sympathy for when Jordan had first made her his slave. Had she really been so willing at the start, or had he taken advantage of her girlish innocence, gradually corrupting it with his own selfish fetishes? I reached out and helped her to her feet. She could see through me when I took her face in my hands again, and she frowned at me.

"Don't David - you're fucking everything up. I'm your whore, not you're boring little wife tonight. You have to own me! You have to use me like your whore and make me beg for it! Until now, everything was just so right..."

Her disappointment spread through the room like a cloud of poison. Was I just not wired to be her "Master", or was I still too clueless to know how she needed the game to play out? She was frozen there, staring at the carpet, her face still gently cradled in my hands. But I was determined to make this work, any way she wanted it. If only she wasn't so, fucking, beautiful...

"Get on your knees and suck my cock. And do it like you'll never have another one."

She sank to her knees immediately and opened her mouth, anxiously looking up at me.

"Well, are you waiting for me to feed it to you?" I asked impatiently.

She leaned forward, her hands still secured behind her back, certain she could capture my cock-head between her lips. She looked puzzled when I moved an inch to one side, denying her her prize. She inched closer, craning her neck to reach it, and I shifted to my other foot, making it bob in the opposite direction. It was then she looked up at me, narrowed her eyes, and gave me her evil grin. I didn't have to ask if I had turned my mistake around.

"You're not very good at this, are you?" I commented after a few minutes of easily dodging her yawning, hungry mouth. "Have you ever sucked a cock before? Maybe you need lessons..."

"I'm so sorry, sir," she offered. I'll try harder, I promise."

"Never mind. I'm just not used to girls with so little talent. Here, I'll put it in for you. But you don't get any cum this time. Maybe with more practice..."

"But sir, I've waited all night for your cum. Please let me try again?"

"Just try to suck me for a while. You'll get plenty later."

To say she wasn't talented would have been an outrageous lie. Linda knew my cock as well as her own pussy, and she had her little tricks to both edge me on forever, and to have me gushing like a geyser in minutes. Still, I tried to look bored while she used them all, never quite sure if I could outlast her very, very talented mouth. I managed, but not by much.

When I couldn't hold out any longer, I ordered her onto the bed. She sat on the edge with her hands tied behind her, looking like a very used, but still willing waif who would eagerly fuck for her dinner.

"How do you want me?" she asked.

"Without the heels," I told her. "Let me have them." I passed my fingers lightly over her feet and toes as I removed them, then massaged her feet to see her reaction. She drew a deep breath and let her head fall back, savoring the brief kindness.

"Lie back. Spread your legs like a good whore."

Her movements were tentative and careful, as though she might be punished if she didn't exceed my slightest expectations. When I climbed between her legs, put my mouth against her pussy and pressed my tongue firmly against her clit, she moaned as though her relief was guaranteed.

"Well, now we see your true talent. At least you can moan like a whore. I think you're at your best when you're doing it. Shall we try again?"

She did her best to prove me right when I attacked her clit a second time, but not before I lapped at the juicy center of her sex, feeling her hips rise to press repeatedly against my mouth. When I finally sucked her clit gently between my lips, her body shuddered, and my reward chased the final remnants of poison from the room.

"Sssss - fuck, David - fuck fuck fuck..."

"Is that an order or a request from my little whore," I asked, peering from between her legs, up over her rutting mound.

"I - I don't know what you want me to say. Tell me and I'll say it. I just want - "

"I know, I know. My little whore wants my cock in her, but I haven't heard her tell me where yet."

"Fuck, David - how many times do I have to tell you? You own all of me. Put your cock anywhere. I'm yours. My entire fucking body is yours!"

"True, true, my little whore. But I wonder if you truly mean it? Get on you belly with your ass in the air. Maybe I'll take you in every hole. Would you like that?"

She scrambled up onto the bed with my help, balanced on her knees, then dropped her head and shoulders to the pillow. Her wrists remained tied behind her back, leaving her perfect ass and pussy elevated and surrendered for any use I might enjoy.

I lay on the bed beside her, my face inches from hers, staring into the depths of her eyes. Neither of us said a word for minutes. I tried to mine a clue from those depths, to know what kind of cruelty she needed, or if that was really what she needed at all. In time, I think we found a safe space, briefly wedged between fantasy and reality, one where the words were just a prop and a potential future offered us a life without guilt or remorse. I was relieved we could smile together, even if it was just for seconds, without crashing the game. Then suddenly, she ended our retreat.

"Don't tell me what hole you want, David. I don't want to know until you're in me. Will you do that? Will you fuck me like your little whore? And please, don't make me wait. Don't t o r t u r e me like Jordan did. I don't want that anymore. I just couldn't bear suffering like that again, so desperate to cum that I became his whore, over and over. Just cum in me, then let me cum too? Please? I'm begging you."

I entered her from behind, slipping into her gaping pussy slowly, an inch at a time, then retreating quickly, without a pause. I'm not sure how deeply I pushed inside her each time she began to moan - three inches, or maybe four, but I'd always stop short of burying myself in her and pause, relishing the tight fist in her belly that let me know she craved to be filled. When I gave it, she took the full length of my cock greedily, struggling to free her hands, growling when she managed to thrust her hips far enough upward that the engorged ridge along the bottom of my cock met and massaged the length of her swollen clit.

When her moans began to die after a while, I grasped the dark shock of hair at the back of her head and pummeled into her recklessly, fiercely, using the reigns of hair to restrain her, reminding her that she would be ridden to her limits by her master. Regular, f o r c e f u l gasps escaped her every time I plunged into her, and I could hear her whisper, "yes! - yes! - yes!" each time I pulled the reigns tighter.

She cried out in pain when I edged the head of my cock into her ass. I stopped and withdrew quickly, gently letting her head and shoulders fall back onto the pillow.

"You can have my ass, David. Get the lube. It's in my overnight bag. I want you to have all of me. Every hole. But hurry - please? Please hurry. I'm want to cum with you in me."

I climbed back on the bed after an almost comical, feverish search through her jumbled collection of cosmetics for the small container of lube. In my frantic rush back to bed, I wondered if she took it with her everywhere, or whether she had planned every act of our little play. When I entered her again, greased to the hilt, she groaned and lifted her ass higher to let me in. "Ohhh, David - it's good now - sooo good - you can have me there - take me there, fuck me - I want all of you in me..."

After three full strokes, I reached between her legs and ran my finger firmly along her clit, just once. Her anus cinched like a vise around me as she came, and I spewed everything I had into her bowels. It was rare that we orgasmed together at the exact moment, and it seemed to go on and on, the two of us locked together in a relentless cycle of jerking spasms that refused to release us. I imagined filling her with semen until her belly was extended and round with it, and her cries were never ending. "Oh my fucking God, David - fuck me - fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuck..."

We lay together afterward, limp, wet, and too exhausted for words. As my pounding heart returned to normal, all I could think about was whether I had given her enough of what she needed, enough of what she had imagined the night would be. I wondered how many times she had returned for more of Jordan's h u m i l i a t i o n and t o r t u r e, and whether her occasional thirst for it could ever be quenched, even if just for an hour, by a loving husband.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked quietly as we lay there in the dark.

"I should be asking you that," I answered. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I mean, physically, or in any other way?"

"David, it was everything I wanted tonight, even more than I thought you might agree to. But I wanted you to have this night too, to remember us together here instead of 'Stephan' and me. The nights were nothing alike, in spite of what you may have imagined. This is the one I want to remember. I want you to as well."

She put her leg over me snuggled against me as though she couldn't get close enough. I was, well, contented, I suppose, my spirits lifted by the great sex, and by a better understanding and acceptance of Linda's darker appetites. There was also a selfish satisfaction that I could free her darker side so men like Jordan weren't her only refuge when it rose to haunt her. But it still unnerved me a little too, that the woman Linda had become over the past several years, my svelte, confident, panther-like beauty, could recast herself so easily and suddenly as the submissive little girl I had met so intimately for the first time that night.

Linda woke me in the middle of the night, and we made love gently but passionately as we had so often in our own bed. But there were also fleeting moments when her master's voice urged her on, and her little girl cried out to me, begging me to make her cum. I wondered if the night would become a part of us without exception, regardless of whether we made love or fucked. I only knew I was both comforted and i n t o x i c a t e d by my newfound ability to become a celebrated player in her fantasies.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 21, Goodbye and Hello

We talked the next morning, about our future, and about sex. It seemed more comfortable somehow after our night of fantasy.

"Do you feel jealous, even once in a while, when I have sex with another man?" she had asked, out of the blue. "I know you like to hear my stories about them, but do you ever worry? That I might fall for one of them? Or that the sex might be, well, in your mind, 'too good'?"

I was surprised she wasn't convinced of my trust and confidence by that time. She had been fucking other men off and on for several years after Michael had moved on, entirely because I had given her my blessing since the time the real Michael had entered our lives.

"Have I given you any reason to think so?" I asked.

"No, never. But I can't help wondering sometimes. I'd always stop if you wanted me to. I hope you know that."

She was dressing as we talked, and I had hoped she'd wear the same outfit she wore the night before when we paraded back through the hotel lobby to check out. Instead, she had packed a fitted, copper-colored fall blouse and a pair of skin tight blue jeans. The blouse hugged her slim waist, emphasizing her bust and shoulders.

"Could you keep the bra and panties in your bag?" I begged. "I'd like showing you off a little at breakfast before we leave, even if it's just a hint of bare breasts under your blouse. I know a lot of business travelers stay here, and I'm sure it would make their day."

She looked over her shoulder and grinned at me while she unfastened and shrugged off her bra. "Well, I guess that answers my question then. And I can read your mind - you'd have me go to breakfast naked if I wouldn't be arrested, wouldn't you, you pervert?"

"I shamelessly admit that watching all the men in this hotel drool at your perfect, naked body would make my day."

"Seriously, David - you really don't ever get jealous, at all?"

I hadn't counted on how the blouse would thrust her breasts upward, straining the few buttons fastened over them. The open V at the top displayed bare inner curves of perfect, ivory flesh against the darker, silky material. The faint outline of her nipples beneath the fabric made my mouth water.

"I wouldn't call it jealousy, Linda. It's not that I don't think about some guy you might meet with a huge cock, or some fleeting infatuation you might have with a hot guy. But look at you - you're going to be faced with those temptations every day whether I'm okay with it or not. I see how men stare at you, how they want you. I'd rather you be honest about it, fuck him, and come back to what we have. You know how much I love beautiful things. In the past it was so tempting to own you, to try to possess you like some rare piece of art. We both know couples like that - and most of them aren't happy. Hell, sometimes I wonder if some of them ever fuck at all. So call it whatever you want - but the important thing is, I'm proud of you, who you are, and that you can enjoy sex with another man now and then when you can't resist him and not bring it crashing down on our heads later."

"I promise I'll always tell you about the men, David, all of them, every time. I'll never be the slut who fucks around behind your back. Besides, I love being your dirty little slut, making your cock sooo hard when I promise to be a very filthy girl," she told me, grinning.

I was disappointed that no one seemed to notice her breasts at breakfast. I asked her to get me another helping of eggs and bacon from the buffet so I could watch. At least I noticed, and sometimes that was more than enough to feed my fantasies. It did take a while for my erection to deflate before we could go to the front desk to check out. I never could watch her walk across a room full of men with her breasts dancing under her blouse without getting hard for her.

There was a chill in the air when we stepped outside. They had put up a wide, green awning over the main entrance of the Excelsior. The old red-and-white tower of a sign on the roof was gone and one of neon just outside the hotel entrance advertised the newly remodeled bar as "The Hot Spot - 50 Ways to Meet Your Lover." As we left, we turned to look at it again and laughed. The neighborhood was changing, and not for the better. Or maybe it was just our time to move on.

"I'm not sure if I'll miss the place or not," I told her as we walked back to our apartment.

"I won't," she assured me, without a hint of sentimentality. "It's infested with the past. Our future can't come soon enough."

On our way, we passed the former boutique where I had bought Linda's red party dress. The small window was now crowded with shoulder-to-shoulder mannequins wearing G-strings and see-through bras, displayed above rows of multicolored dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators. Even that didn't seem to dampen her spirits.

We crossed the street to a little park near our building and found the bench we used almost every day when we had first moved in. It had been a way to get to know the neighborhood and the people with history there. Little had changed; couples stopped to let us pet their dogs, and a kid was flying a kite in the wide, open space between rows of cedars at either end.

"We should go in," I said. "We leave tomorrow." Lots to do."

Linda took may hand and smiled at me. "Miles to go...," she recited, knowing I'd understand.

I couldn't resist taking her in my arms as we stood. It surprised her at first, but she fell into me and hugged me as though she might never let go.

"Was last night really everything you wanted it to be?" I asked. "I need to know."

It was my turn to be surprised when she looked up into my eyes as though she was peering inside me, seeing me for the very first time.

"David, you were wonderful. No - you were 'off the scale'."


END

Thank you Don, This story has been fantastic. Every husband should have a Linda...
Peter C

Thanks for reading and commenting, Peter. Like many of my stories, this one is influenced by bits of our experiences and conversations, and here, a specific character in particular. Mostly fiction though, with a little history sprinkled in for good measure...

Don