It didn’t take long though before his arousal rose to the boiling point, the temptation of that vulnerable, now sweating, obedient female too much to resist.
He rose and made his way over to the tall white cabinet they used to store the small equipment — dumbbells, jump rope, Swiss balls, it was all a jumble in there.
Or it had been.
He opened the cabinet, looking back at her. She watched him, rapt, bright color high in her cheeks, a glimmer of sweat in the soft well just above her red upper lip.
Keihl threw the door wide, Kirsten’s gasp just loud enough to be heard above the whine of the treadmill’s motor. He’d sunk several hooks into the inside plane of the cabinet door. There were some new items inside the cabinet now, and they were certainly not what one would term “exercise” equipment. His fingers caressed the lengths of black and red leather hanging from hooks. He looked back at her as he lifted the length of the thick phallus on his palm.
“I made some improvements to the accessories in this gym. Do you like them?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was almost a croak, and she cleared her throat. “I-I don’t think those are going help melt the fat from my thighs though.”
Keihl smiled. “Your thighs aren’t fat, my dear, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
He pulled the flogger out, the red and black leather of the falls, swaying back and forth. Before he closed the door, he slipped the riding crop from its hook too.
He wasn’t sure if Kirsten’s sharp intake of breath was from exertion — or fright.
Keihl still wasn’t completely used to the feel of the heavy, braided handle of the flogger — but it definitely felt right, the weight of it perfectly balanced. He remembered the day he’d opened the box in the quiet shadows of their living room, pleased to see Kirsten hadn’t made it home before he had. He’d tested the flogger out on the seat cushion of their recliner, the sound of it startling, the waves of thin crazy lines the falls left on the upholstery instantly getting him hard. He’d never think to strike her that hard with them — at least not now — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to try giving her a really hard stroke with it one day. The crop had been much easier, all the weight in the handle, the small flapper at the end so light that it didn’t spoil his aim at all. The flex of it was surprising — he could bend it literally double, and it would spring right back to its straight, lethal form. Remarkable. When he’d pulled it from the packaging, he’d impulsively tested the crop on his leg, hitting harder than he’d intended, and even through the fabric of his slacks, leaving a swelling, throbbing weal along his calf so painful, he’d almost cried out.
It was a lesson he was glad he’d learned on himself, rather than on his beautiful wife.
Her big brown eyes followed him as he sauntered back from the cabinet, the flogger tucked under an arm, the crop slicing through the air in front of him, a dramatic gesture that had her drawing a quick, breast heaving breath.
“You didn’t know?”
He suspected she hadn’t seen them in there before, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to hide the new implements either.
The slow shake of her head and her frightened liquid gaze sent a new surge of lust through him, his balls tingling with it, the muscles of his body tense with arousal.
Be careful, Keihl.
Standing behind her once again, not saying a word, he drank in her trepidation, looking up to meet her eyes each time she looked back at him. He could smell her scent now, a combination of her clean feminine sweat, and the sharper, earthier note of her arousal. He took a step toward her, bending close, running a finger down the inside of one pumping thigh, touching a stretch of skin bright with slickness. She jerked, startled, then found her pace once more. He ran a fingertip through the clear liquid that was thicker than her sweat, and far more fragrant.
“Scared or not, you like this, don’t you?”
Her whole body tensed, her feet almost stamping the spinning belt of the treadmill.
“Answer me.”
Her voice broke a little. “I don’t… know.”
Keihl moved to the front of the machine, holding up the gleaming fingertip, wet with the proof of her shame. “Do you think this is sweat?”
Her eyes stared forward defiantly.
Yes.
“Look at me, girl.”
She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
He held the finger to her lips. “You know what to do.”
The wet tongue flicked out, tasting, pausing, then taking his finger into her mouth, her bright eyes upon him the whole time.
“Now tell me, bad girl. Does that taste like sweat to you?”
Her blush flamed red, spreading up into her hair and down her neck, her eyes squeezing tight for a moment, her tongue working along him.
“I didn’t think so.” He pulled his finger from her lips. “Your cunt is dripping, girl.”
Her head drooped for a moment, then she took a deep, shuddering breath, lifted her chin, staring straight ahead once more.
Keihl moved to her side, taking in the bounce of her breasts, the way the long muscles of her thighs worked as she walked. His hand stroked the curve of her belly, and Kirsten sighed, her hand covering his. She looked down at him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. He pressed a kiss to her warm hip, giving her a wink. She smiled then, bringing the back of his hand to her lips, her soft kiss making his cock throb.
“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, stroking the curve of her hip with the loose falls of the flogger. She tensed, her gaze snapping forward once more. “You fear this, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.” She grasped the bar ahead of her with both hands as if to steady herself for what might come next. “You’ve never… used something like that. On me.”
“No time like the present, right?”
Kirsten shuddered.
“But not while you’re on this thing.” He stroked the handle of the flogger across the underside of her bottom. She drew in a sharp breath as he lifted each plump buttock in turn on the braided leather, glorying in the wobble of her flesh as he let each cheek drop. “Too dangerous to flog this pretty ass while you’re walking.” He gave her a light smack with the handle. “I’m a patient man though.”
A longer beep sounded from the treadmill, the belt slowing to a crawl. Kirsten looked over at him, sweat beading on her forehead, one eyebrow raised.
“Do what you’d normally do,” he said, giving her a grin. “I’ll just watch you for now. I’ll let you know if I want something different.” He slapped her thigh with the flogger. “Now move.”
She moved immediately to the elliptical, the motion of the machine exposing her sex in a way that had her blushing anew, made worse when he squatted down in front of her to get a better look. He imagined the way her slick labia must have felt sliding together that way. He loved how dark and swollen her pussy was now, the hue of her lips making him want to press his hand to them to feel their heat.
What are you waiting for?
Kirsten sighed, her thighs opening ever so slightly as his palm cupped the burning lips of her sex. He worked the heel of his hand against her clit as he looked up at her.
“I think I’ll flog this sometime, too,” he said. “Would you like that, girl?”
The shake of her head send a drop of sweat onto the metal housing of the machine’s motor.
“But you’d let me do it anyway, wouldn’t you?”
Her cheeks paled. “You wouldn’t…”
“If I thought you needed it, you bet your sweet, round ass I would.” He held up the flogger, running his fingers through the deceptively soft leather of the falls. “It’s amazing what this thing can do. Especially for a wet, needy pussy like the one I see right now.”
Her face paled, her gaze meeting his, then snapping forward once more.
“Are you saying you won’t let me? That I have no right?”
Her head drooped, reluctance seeping from every pore. “No, Sir.”
“Good.” He patted the seething heat of her sex. “Something to look forward to then.”
Keihl wasn’t even sure he’d do it, but he’d watched it done. More online research. The video he’d found was riveting; he’d lost track of how many times he’d replayed the damned thing.
Now as he stared at the dusky swollen lips of her sex, her moisture glistening along the seam, he imagined how she’d cry out when those leather falls licked fire across that soft, vulnerable pussy. Would her cries be pleasure? Pain? Or confusing mixture of both? He had to be careful of course — especially in her state of heightened sensitivity — but that was what made the flogger so suited to it. It could be anything from a soft caress to tines of fire.
And sweetest of all, it was all up to him, all within his control. Just where he wanted her to be.
By the time she quit the elliptical, she poured with sweat, her scent strong now. He inhaled of it deeply, loving it — and making sure she saw him do it, knowing how much it made her self-conscious. It was one of the little things that were so much sweeter now that they’d explored The Game deeper. The pleasures of her mortification, the joys of his submissive wife’s embarrassment. Perhaps one might think him evil, twisted, that he enjoyed her distress. There was a time when he’d have thought the same thing too, but they’d come too far, discovered too much about themselves — and accepted the truth of what they were.
She wanted,
needed
, his control, even his punishment. And he wanted, needed to control her, to punish her. Two halves of a dark, twisted whole to be sure, but it didn’t make any of it any less true, any less real. The hardest part of this journey — for both of them — had been accepting that truth, that acknowledgment of desires, or urges, that some would label twisted, even deviant.
Now, neither one of them cared what others thought. The only thing that mattered was the journey they were still on, the path they still walked — and what lay at the end of it. Neither of them knew what lay at the end, of course, but he knew both of them needed,
hungered
, to find out what it was.
Sitting on his chair, Keihl had to remind himself to breathe as he watched his beautiful wife pull the padded mat over to the middle of the floor, her glance sliding toward him every now and then. He had to bite his fist as she began her yoga, first sitting cross-legged with her back toward him, her pale buttocks pressed to the mat, her lush thighs spread to either side, her ribcage expanding as she inhaled deeply. She held that for a minute or two, then stood, her wet sex and the cleft of her buttocks yawning open for a moment as she moved. She stretched toward the ceiling, her bottom still turned toward him, the glorious, slim muscles of her back moving, the cords of her hamstrings taut.
“Turn,” he said, his voice thick.
She glanced at him as she obeyed, still holding her arms straight up as she did.
“Stop. Proceed.”
She was profile to him now, her eyes sliding to him, a fresh blush staining her cheeks again. The sweet curve of her belly was well presented in this position, and it made him want to stroke it again, a possessive gesture he indulged in any chance he got. He watched the way her heavy, swaying breasts moved as she stretched, up, up, finally up onto her toes for a moment, her calves twitching.
“I broke the rules on that one,” she murmured, her voice strained.
“How?” Keihl’s mind was already turning over new possibilities, vistas he hadn’t yet discovered. Rules for yoga? And consequences for breaking them?
Settle down, idiot.
“I mean… with this pose,” she said, letting out a sigh of relief as she lowered her heels back to the mat. “Not supposed… to go up on your toes.”
“From now on you are. Fuck the rules.”
The side of a full breast was just visible, and it moved as she giggled. “Unless you make them, right?”
“You’re a quick learner, wifey.”
Watching his naked, sweating, pregnant wife go through the rest of her yoga routine was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen, and the entire time he wondered how the fuck he’d never thought to make her do this before. He’d have done this even before The Game. When she went to her knees and pressed her face to the floor, he made her stop, telling her to point her ass toward him. When she obeyed, her buttocks yawning apart, the dark whorl of her anus clearly visible, he nearly came in his pants.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmured.
“You asked for it,” she said, both tension and satisfaction in her soft voice.
When she rose up again, her bottom pressed to her heels, Keihl was already standing by her side. He had his aching cock out, stroking it as he looked down upon her. She dipped her head, collecting the stray strands of her soaked hair, and retying her ponytail.
“After this, I usually cool down on the tread”—she drew a sharp breath when she saw his cock, her lust-clouded gaze sliding up to his—”I guess I’m done?”
He extended a hand. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
“Thank God.”
* * *
T
his was the hardest part — and the part that aroused her the most. He’d make her stand at attention, shoulders back, “tits out” as he liked to say, not a sound in the room, his keen gaze roaming over every inch of her naked flesh. He’d smooth a palm over the curve of her belly that could no longer be hidden by clothing, fingers playing with the heavy weight of hair he forbid her to cut, the tips of it now reaching halfway down her back.