The Object Of My Desire

Posted 29 October 2005

Just over a year ago a new board level director, Matt, was appointed at my company and there was an immediate attraction between us. He's a few years younger than my husband, just as intelligent and far better looking, but he's not arrogant in any way. He's just a cool guy, and along with every other woman at the office I fancy him to bits. Part of his appeal is that he's not intimidated by me as so many other men are. He's tall and athletic, and even when I'm wearing five-inch heels he's still looking down on me a little. Consequently I don't get the same feeling of dominance and power with him that I do with other men such as Martin. When I talk to him I feel strangely comfortable, as if we've known each other for a very long time. There's a sort of unspoken bond between us. I can feel it, and I know that he can too.

When Matt first joined the firm he was going through a very nasty divorce. The matter's settled now, but it's cost him a great deal of money and understandably he's become extremely cautious about forming any serious romantic attachments. He's had a string of girlfriends over the past year, some of them really striking, but from what I can gather he hasn't allowed any of them to get too close to him. This hasn't stopped me getting jealous each time I hear about his latest catch. I know it's irrational that I should feel this way, and clearly there's some element of infatuation at play.

I probably don't need to tell you that Matt's often in my thoughts when I'm alone with my stimulators. He perfectly fits the role that my husband has described so many times - the strong, powerful, dominant lover who uses me as his sex toy. It's hard for me to even write this part of my entry without going a little weak at the knees as I think of the bizarre and unbelievably kinky ways I've had sex with him in my fantasies. I haven't kept my infatuation a secret from Martin, and in the bedroom I often goad him with stories of what I'd like Matt to do to me and how I'd like to pay homage to him with my mouth.

Matt has had hints of the arousing clothing that I wear from seeing me at the office, but the only time he's seen me in full cock-tease mode was when we went to a wealthy client's 50th birthday party at a well-known London nightclub. Such a venue was a perfect opportunity to wear something unusual, and I squeezed into an unbelievably tight metallic blue latex dress, wearing absolutely nothing else except some killer high-heeled shoes.

Matt had a very pretty girl on his arm when we bumped into him at the bar. Martin had never met him before and I introduced them both:

"Matt, this is Martin, my husband. Martin, meet Matt, one of our directors. I think you've heard me talk about him before."

I gave Martin a knowing look, but I didn't really need to. Hearing the name was enough. Matt introduced his girlfriend, Rebecca, then ordered some drinks. We stood and chatted for a while, just the usual meaningless exchanges that you've forgotten about ten minutes after you've had them.

During this period I noticed that Martin looked distinctly uncomfortable. He wasn't his usual confident, witty self at all. Normally he tends to take over a conversation, but here he seemed unsure in Matt's presence. I realised that being alongside a man I'd fantasised about having sex with was unnerving for him. He genuinely felt inferior, and this was compounded by the fact that he looked physically slight as I towered above him in my heels, whereas Matt looked perfect for me.

As for Rebecca, she looked equally unhappy. Matt had diplomatically made no comment about my rubber dress, but that didn't stop him eyeing me up and down like a cat who had just discovered the cream. Rebecca obviously sensed that his attention had been diverted, and for someone as good-looking as her it was probably a novel experience. For anyone observing our short conversation it must have looked as if Matt and I were a couple, and they would probably have been amazed to find out that I was actually married to Martin.

The metallic blue latex dress I wore to the London nightclub (with different shoes). It's so tight that when I put it around me there's about a six-inch gap to close before it's possible to fasten the rear catch and zip it up. I can't do this on my own, and Martin has to pull with all his strength to get the two edges to meet. Wearing underwear is out of the question.
Maria's tight metallic blue latex dress

Later when we got back to our hotel I immediately started discussing Matt. Little else had been on my mind all evening.

"So, what do you think? Impressive isn't he? I'm sure you can see why I'm so attracted to him."

I had expected Martin to start rubbing himself and egging me on, fantasising about seeing Matt kissing and caressing me. To my surprise though he played the whole thing down and even tried to change the subject.

"He's okay I suppose, but I'm not really sure why you're that keen on him. You must be seeing something I'm not. Do you fancy a drink from the minibar?"

It was a very poor and transparent act. I had to smile, and I reached down and began to massage Martin's prick through his trousers.

"You're jealous! I can't believe it... the man who wants his wife to suck cocks and ride big hard dicks is suddenly jealous. You can't take the real thing when you're faced with it, can you? You don't like the fact that I really want to have him inside me."

He became suddenly angry. "Lay off it, Maria, I just don't know what you see in him that's all. If it ever came to it you could do better than that."

This sudden loss of temper was unusual for Martin, and certainly something he didn't normally contemplate directing at me. He knew he'd made a mistake when he saw how quickly my expression changed. The smile on my face vanished and my voice became very cold:

"Unzip my dress, then take your clothes off. All of them. And get on the bed."

He didn't hesitate. He knew he'd overstepped the mark and there was going to be some retribution. He also knew how dangerous it was to resist further. Once he'd stripped he got on to the bed as ordered, kneeling on all fours in expectation of some sort of physical punishment. His prick had become quite erect.

My rubber dress had fallen to the floor and I calmly picked it up and hung it in the closet. I then put on the leather underwear, black stockings and high-heeled shoes I had worn during the day.

[Before I continue let me say that I have just read through my general recollection of our verbal exchange that night and it all seems a little contrived. This is no doubt the case with many bedroom conversations when the emotion of the moment cannot be adequately articulated. However, all I can say is that when I talk like this to my husband the Mistress persona is very real. When Martin and I first started role-playing as Mistress and Slave I found it acutely embarrassing pretending to be a dominant, aggressive woman subjugating her husband. Nowadays there is no pretence. I don't have to search through a mental catalogue of domina phrases to find one which is apt for the moment, and however stilted the dialogue seems to you the reader, this is very much how scenes between Martin and I play out. I know this because I'm now transcripting some of our past video sessions and the dialogue is much the same. To me though it seems uncomfortably 'hammy' when put into print. I also wince at the extremely coarse language I use in moments of passion.

Another key thing to bear in mind is that at the time this event occurred, the idea of me cuckolding my husband for real was not yet a serious proposition, and so any talk of me having sex with Matt or any other man was largely bedroom fantasy, the same sort of behind-doors make-believe that Martin and I had been indulging in for several years.]

"I see that it obviously excites you that you've angered me. Well, let me tell you this: if you so much as even stroke that ridiculous excuse for a penis between now and when we get home, then you'll reap a whirlwind that you'll never recover from. I'm deadly serious here, Little-Prick. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," he said, and he nodded vigorously. "I'm sorry."

"It's no good being sorry now. You should learn to control yourself. I'd have thought by now you'd have got the message. Obviously some more training is required."

Martin knew not to move or look round, even though he must have been wondering what was coming next. I hadn't brought a whip with me, but that was never going to be a problem. I kept him waiting for a couple of minutes, heightening the anticipation. His cock was still very hard. A pity he couldn't play with it.

I picked up my hairbrush from the dressing table, went back over to him and struck him on the bottom with the flat side of it. He gave a gasp as the pain registered, but before he had time to recover I struck him again. Then again.

He couldn't help but cry out a little as I gave him that third one, but worse was to come. I now smacked him with the brush several times in rhythm to my words of warning:


"Yes, Maria," he said, and his voice was all choked up as if he was about to start crying. His bottom had suddenly become a fiery red. I certainly hadn't held back.

I gave him four or five more, just as hard as before.

"Sorry, what was that you said? Did I hear you say: Yes, I understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. Yes, yes, I understand."

"Good, that's better. Now, I'm turning this brush over, and next time I strike you it's going to be with the spikes. Imagine how much that's going to hurt, considering what you've already had. Do you want me to do it?"

"No, Mistress. Please, please, don't do it. I can't take any more"

"Oh, I think you can, Martin. But still, I'll give you a way out. I'll ask you some questions, and if I get adequate answers your sensitive burning bottom will be spared. Got that?"

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, thank you."

I leaned over towards his face, kissing him on the cheek as I gently ran the brush through his hair, then whispered into his ear:

"Don't thank me yet."

I stood back up again, pausing for a few moments as I decided how to play him.

"Okay, so first of all, how do you think Matt compares to you?"

"He's much better looking than me. And he's tall. He looks strong. He's much better than me."

"Good, I totally agree. And do you think his prick is bigger than yours?"

"Oh yes, it will be much bigger. Mine's probably tiny compared to his."


I gave him a hard, sharp strike with the spiked brush and Martin yelped out loud. Tears of frustration were rolling down his cheeks.

"Probably? Probably tiny compared to his?"

"No, I mean mine's definitely tiny compared to his. He's much, much bigger than me."

"Very well, so if Matt's prick is so big and you know your wife wants a big prick to play with, what would you say to Matt if he were in the room with us now?"

"I'd ask him to screw you Mistress. I'd ask him to put his prick inside you and give you a good fucking."

"That's right. Well done. And would you want that Martin? Would you want Matt to fuck me?"

"Yes, Mistress. Oh yes. I really want Matt to fuck you. Really I do."

Whack!... Whack!... Whack!

"Right answer; the problem is I don't believe you mean it."

Martin started blubbering openly then. His bottom must have been really stinging, but he knew he couldn't win however much he tried to placate me.

"Please, Maria, stop. P-L-E-A-S-E. I'm so sorry. You're right, I was jealous. I was jealous because I know that he could satisfy you so well. I know you'd love it if he had sex with you. I could see how much you fancy him. But please, don't hit me again."

By now the pleasure of humiliating my husband had left me desperately turned on and I badly wanted an orgasm. Of course there was no way I was going to reveal to Martin just how excited I had become. The tone of my voice was still level and somewhat casual:

"Hmm, okay then. You can service me with your mouth. Perform well and I might spare you further punishment."

I told him to turn over and lie on his back, and at the same time I retrieved a condom from our overnight bag. I rolled it on to Martin's tongue, and he would have known instantly what I required.

I took off my leather briefs and got on to the bed, lifting one leg over Martin so I straddled him, facing away from his head. Then I simply lowered my rear on to his face.

"Lick, you bastard. Get that tongue working. Come on, I want it hard up me."

Martin immediately started probing with his tongue. Despite the inadequacy of his prick, I can't imagine anyone else who could ever give me cunnilingus and analingus with the skill that Martin can. He is simply brilliant at it. Years of training with constant feedback from me has turned him into an expert, and above all he is able to keep his tongue working for over an hour or more with absolutely no sign of fatigue. That takes some doing and an awful lot of practice, believe me.

By now I could no longer hide my excitement, and as I writhed around enjoying this anal homage I started masturbating with my fingers. At the same time I cried out loud urgings towards Martin and fantasies about Matt:

"That's it fuck-face. Get that tongue in there. Aaah, oh yes. That's it. Not bad, considering your face isn't strapped to me... yes, just there... oh I want Matt here with me now, pushing his rock hard monster into my pussy while you're slavishly licking my arse. Oh, Matt... gorgeous, beautiful Matt... I want him. I want to kiss his lovely hard cock. I want to swallow all of his hot, tasty cum when it explodes into my mouth. Why can't you be like him? How did I end up marrying a wimpish arse-licker like you when there are men like Matt in the world?"

The hairbrush was lying next to me, and I picked it up. I couldn't resist stroking the spikes against Martin's erect prick.

"You're lucky I don't beat your balls with this. Maybe I will if you don't get that tongue up further."

I could have orgasmed so easily, but that would have lessened Martin's punishment so I eased off with my fingers and just kept myself on the edge of climax. It was a beautiful experience which lasted twenty minutes or so until finally I could hold on no longer. As I approached orgasm I provoked Martin one last time with fantasies of Matt:

"If Matt were here now I'd put my leather briefs on and beg him to punish my arse with this hairbrush. Oh God, imagine that Martin... you'd have to watch... watch your wife's leather-covered rear being disciplined by another man... oh yes, yes, Matt..."

Martin sensed my release coming and gave one last amazing thrust with his tongue, getting stunning penetration as a shattering orgasm exploded through me. I could hardly breathe with the pleasure and felt like collapsing in a heap when the feeling finally subsided.

I didn't let Martin know how sensationally he'd performed. I got up and stood over him, my face full of disdain as I pulled the condom from his tongue.

"Any normal day I'd have said that was quite good. Not tonight though. You needed to get more up me than that to avoid more punishment. Turn over again."

"No, Mistress, please. No more."

I ignored his pleas and gave him half a dozen more sharp strokes with the back of the brush. I don't think he could have taken the spikes.

"Are you ever going to bark at me again, Martin?"

His voice was now shaking and pitiful. "No, Mistress, never, never again."

With that I put down the brush and sat down on the bed in front of him. I lowered his head into my lap and let him collapse into a curled position. Then I stroked his hair and wiped away his tears, talking softly to him:

"There's a good boy. That's better. It's alright now, my baby. You've had your punishment. You did very, very well. I'm very pleased now. You know what you did was wrong, and it's not going to happen again. I want you to go and have a warm bath now while I get ready for bed. I'm going to sleep in my leather tonight and I'm going to let you lie with me as a special treat. You can lick the leather all night if you want."

"Thank you, Maria. Thank you for beating me. I love you so much."

"And I love you, Martin. You're my extra-special slave. What would I do without you?"

To contact me, email maria at this site