This is Part Twelve of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:
There was no doubt in my mind that Sara was innately submissive. Her attempts at turning her husband into a sissy cuckold hadn’t been signs of dominance so much as childish bitchiness. I took one of her nipples in one hand and tightened the other in her hair. I gave her nipple a firm tweak, then gave her head a shake. She moaned languidly and her eyes opened slowly.
“What’s this nonsense about putting John in chastity?” I asked her in a low, vicious voice.
Her eyes opened wider.
I gave her nipple another tweak, this one designed to zing along her nerve-endings with just enough pain to season the pleasure.
“Owww! …ah….” Her protest was cut short by my fingers tightening in her hair.
I dropped my hand from her nipple down to the crotch of her pants, my fingers cupping up into her and the heel pressing hard against her clit. Her body bucked a bit under me and I smiled into her eyes–smiled slowly, sensuously, and with just a hint of cruelty.
“Where is the key, little cat?”
“In–in my closet, hanging–” she swallowed “hanging from my belt rack.”
“Good girl,” I said to her. I looked over my shoulder at John. “Go get the key.”
She looked up at me with her hazel-gold eyes. Her expression seemed resigned.
“He told you,” she said, simply. And those simple words said everything.
“Yes,” I said, giving Sara’s pussy a squeeze. “He told me how naughty you’ve been, you slut.”
She hissed in her breath and moved under me, her inner thighs grinding my hand tighter against her pussy. “I just wanted my husband back,” she said, almost wistfully.
When John came back with the key he was still wearing his lingerie, and his heels clicked on the beeswax of the ancient oak flooring. I stood up and man-handled Sara onto her knees by the hair.
To be continued tomorrow…
