Date Night Ch. 01

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Author's Note-My first submission here, and the first thing like this I've written in a while.

I'm going to take some flak for posting it in this category as opposed to elsewhere, but seeing what passes for Loving Wives here, all the death and torture and anger and hatred, I don't think that anyone can really challenge what does and doesn't belong here. So really, this story is dedicated to a very vocal minority of people on this site, especially those who've responded to the comments I've made on other stories about what belongs in this category and what doesn't. This is a Loving Wives story, although there are elements of other categories to be sure, it is a story about a loving couple and their adventures with extra-marital play.

But before you go further, this is a story of cuckolding. It includes elements of BDSM play between a husband and wife during a mutually agreed upon cuckolding session. If that bothers you, don't read any further, don't scroll down to the bottom to flame me in the comments, I don't care what you think quite frankly. If your only objection to the story is based on the kinks I have that you don't, please don't bother. If you have actual criticisms of the story though I'd like to hear them, as I said I haven't written anything for a while and I'm curious to see if anyone other than the sub who inspired this tale and assured me that he loved it and that I am absolutely brilliant because I think he feels he has to enjoy it ;)

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It was a little after five in the afternoon and II stood in my bathroom, blow drying my hair and humming along to a tune running through my head. I couldn't remember the name of the song, nor who it was by, and the lyrics I had going in my mind were probably way off. It had come on while I had been driving home from work though and it had been exactly the kind of upbeat song to get stuck in my head on a day like this. I giggled as I caught sight of myself in the mirror, humming and dancing along to a song in my head, getting ready to go out on a date and feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl.

At my age no one was certainly going to mistake me for a schoolgirl, but I knew that if I were to put on a short little pleated skirt and a tight blouse I'd still turn some heads. I'd put that to the test at the last office Christmas party, and even now on my third straight year of celebrating my thirty ninth birthday I still had men drooling all over me. And looking at myself in the mirror I could see why, no sense in being falsely modest. I'm not particularly tall, but I've been told that my legs seem to go on forever regardless, and they probably are my best feature. Or at least they are if you look all the way up to the ass like so many men seem to whenever they get the chance. I work hard to keep it pert and yet nicely round, looking like an upside down heart with my slender waist. I also work hard to keep my body on the whole tight and petite, making what might be a modest bust on some look very nice indeed if I'm allowed to brag a little. And that day in particular I thought I looked fantastic.

I had to after all, I had a date. This new guy in the office, fresh out of college, tall, blonde, handsome and muscular, just thinking about him there in my bathroom was getting me a bit wet. He'd been so adorable, it was clear he wanted me from the first day he started, but he'd not seemed able to work up the nerve to ask me out. I was his boss after all, and that always seems to do something to guys. So I finally called him into my office just that morning and told him he was taking me out on a date. I'd insisted that we were going out to a little Thai place I liked, he was taking me dancing, then I was going to come back to his place and fuck his brains out. He'd stammered and stared and finally nodded, turning quickly I think in the hopes I wouldn't see how hard I'd gotten him. This isn't the way things are supposed to be done after all, the young little sluts in the office had been batting their eyes and flirting with him, but none of them had just declared their intention to ride him like a cowgirl until his balls were dry. That's not how guys like him are used to operating. But then, it's also probably why it worked, and why I had a date for tonight.

I'd taken the day off after lunch, going out to pick out a new dress and some makeup to wear out, and then as I got home I sent a very important text. It was Friday night, and I needed to let him know I had plans. Him? Oh not my young blonde hunk from the office who I was starting to realize I might need to try to remember his name before he showed up. No, this was to someone else who needed to know that I had a date, and that he needed to come home to help me get ready. And as I finished drying my hair and started to put it up I smiled to myself as I heard the front door opening and my name being called out.

"Karen? Are you home?" Came a voice, sounding slightly nervous and unsure, "I got home as soon as I could, I had to take one last meeting after I got your message."

I smiled to myself, "Yes Mark, I'm in here." It was Mark I had to text about my date. My husband. He came quickly to stand at the entrance to my, or I suppose more accurately, our master bathroom. I turned to look at him. He is everything a woman could want in a husband. He's tall, at least as tall as Mr. Hunky from the office, and although like me he's not going to be passing for some college kid any more the most it's done to him is give him a little grey on the temples of his otherwise still very full and magnificent black hair. He is built like a swimmer, lean and tall and with absolutely gorgeous muscles that, on that day at least, were hidden beneath a very nicely tailored suit. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing several times as I could just read the gamut of emotions running through his mind.

"You...you dyed your hair." he said, and while it was perhaps it wasn't the most obvious thing a man should be commenting on upon learning that his wife has a date and he's been called home to come help her get dressed for it, it was in fact true. My hair is normally a light, sandy brown, but from time to time when the mood struck I would go a few shades lighter into a definite 'blonde' range, both to hide any gray hairs that were most definitely /not/ showing up, thank you very much, and also simply because I liked it. I also knew the effect it had on my husband. You see, Mark is everything I could want in a husband, both because he is tall, handsome, funny and smart, but also because he is completely, utterly, hopelessly submissive to the right woman. And he has a weakness for blondes that I've known and teased him about for about as long as I've known him, so if there is one thing that I can do to really set him off it's that.

"Yes slut, I did" I told him, my voice dropping half an octave or so, out of my normal, conversational tone and into a range that would let him know that we were 'playing' now and that he needed to respond accordingly. The name I called him was for that as well, and I could see his eyes jerk up from having strayed down to my tits so he could meet my gaze. His mouth fell open for a moment and he swallowed, looking at me as I smiled at him. "And I didn't hear you address me properly when you got home just now, did I?"

"No Mistress, sorry Mistress." He just stared at me, and a quick glance down at his slacks told me he had gotten the message. His cock was rock hard already, making a very, very nice bulge. I had no idea what my date for tonight was packing, but I knew that if it was anywhere near as nice of a cock as Mark's I would be in for one hell of a ride. Mark took a moment to collect his thoughts before trying to speak again, his voice cracking slightly, "You..you have a date Mistress?"

Ah yes, my date with....Jim? That sounded right, I just smiled and nodded at Mark, "Yes my dear, and you're going to get me ready, then I'm going to get you ready to wait up for me." I turned and looked back at the mirror, "There is a bag on the bed" I told him, "There is some lingerie in it. one set for me, and the other..." I just left it hang in the air, he knew very well where the other set would be going.

Now, I can hear some of you already wondering why with as much as I am praising my husband physically I had made a date, and why he seemed so okay with it. Well that's the thing. My Mark, my sexy, funny, wonderful man, he's helplessly and shamelessly submissive to me and devoted to me. And so, he knows that I will from time to time go out for fun, and it turns him on. Oh he might get jealous and stammer and blush about it, but even as I was asking him to go and fetch lingerie for him to put on me for my date I could tell how horny he was and how much fun I was going to have with him both before and after my date. For although no one would ever tell by looking at him, nor be able to tell by seeing him at his job or in his normal life, my Mark was a cuckold. He was /my/ cuckold to be precise, my wonderful, loving, worshipful slave, and he would do or allow me to do whatever I wanted. And that was exactly why we were so happy.

I returned to looking at myself in the mirror, making sure that my hair and makeup looked good as Mark rushed into the bedroom to find the bag I had left on the bed. "You had best be dressed appropriately when you come back in here" I called out to him, smiling to myself as I heard him gasp at what he found in there. It took him a couple of minutes to get undressed, and when he returned I could see him breathing a bit faster and swallowing nervously as I turned to look at him. Gone was the suit he had worn to work, as good as it had looked on him I found what he was wearing now far more fitting at the moment. He had stripped out of everything he had on when he had left this morning and put on the present I had bought him, a pair of sheer, white, little lace boyshort panties. My smile grew wider as I saw his reaction to wearing them, he was conflicted about it, I knew he was, but one part of him was always honest about the things we did together.

"Someone is feeling eager." I said as my eyes fell on his cock, hard and thick and pressed up against his body by the tight panties, the head of his cock peeking out slightly from the waistband. He didn't respond right away and so I took a step towards him, reaching out and running my fingers up along the shaft of his cock, outlined so nicely by the thin layer of soft satin material. "Mmmm, do they fit slut?" I asked him, and he let out a sudden breath as my hand rubbed his cock and he nodded his head.

"Ye...yes Mistress...they fit very well." His face was turning red as I slid my hand down to cup his balls gently through the material.

"Are you ready to help me with mine?" I asked him, glancing at the bag he held in his hand. He nodded and I stepped away from him, giving him room to set the bag down and take out what I had purchased for myself. A new pair of black silk stockings with a matching garter belt and a pair of black lace thong panties. I smiled at him as he held them up, his hand shaking a little, I knew how much he loved me in stockings, it was why I wore them. Both for nights when I wanted to give him something special, and nights like tonight when I wanted to drive him wild.

I allowed him to pull my panties on first, stepping into them and letting him pull them up my legs slowly. Then came the garter belt, and finally the stockings. His hands trembled as he pulled them up slowly one by one, carefully, my hand running through his hair slowly as I felt his warm breath against my stomach. He was on his knees by now, someplace he always seemed to feel more natural, it was what made our marriage work.

"Good boy." I purred, and he looked up at me expectantly, a hint of pride in his eyes at being spoken to like that. And then I turned around, facing away from him. "Show me what a good boy you are." He swallowed and nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips against my ass, right in the center of my left cheek, kissing me through the sheer panties.

"Th..thank you Mistress," he said as he pulled back "Thank you for letting me dress you." I nodded and started to walk into the bedroom, beckoning for him to follow me. After a moment's hesitation he didn't stand, instead crawling after me like an obedient pup. I had to chuckle at that.

"You may stand up," I told him "You're going to need to to help me finish." I gestured to the little black dress I had picked out to wear that night, one I knew he loved, completely backless and cut high enough that the tops of my stockings and the garters would show if I wasn't careful. Or when I was careful to make sure they showed, as the case may be. He nodded and stood up silently, helping me into my dress before zipping it up, I could feel his cock pressing against me a few times as he did but I said nothing. Finally, he helped me pick out jewelry to wear, a pair of pearl earrings and matching necklace he had bought me for our last anniversary. When all was said and done I could see he was almost overcome with lust, the tip of his cock slick with precum as it strained against the soft, satin panties. He looked at me, not speaking, clearly waiting for me to make the next move. He knew what came next, what always came next, and I simply nodded my head.

"Get onto the bed," I told him as I gestured towards it as I turned to my dresser. Inside the top drawer I found what I needed, several lengths of rope for just this kind of purpose. He assumed the position, laying on our bed on his back, spread eagle and with his arms stretched out above him. He waited, nervous but obviously eager, as I came and began to tie him, wrapping a rope around each of his ankles and wrists and tying them one by one to the posts of our bed. He lay still as I bound him securely in place, his breathing growing faster and faster. When I was done he finally spoke up.

"Are you leaving now Mistress?" he asked, looking over at the clock on my nightstand, I hadn't told him what time my date was picking me up. I smiled and nodded at him, standing beside our bed and reaching over to stroke him through his brand new set of panties. Not his first, but I bought a new pair each time we played like this.

"Yes dear, you know you don't get your reward until I come home." He moaned and looked up at the ceiling, feeling my hand tease his cock like that.

"Ye...yes Mistress...I know...Will...will you be..." He didn't finish the sentence, I placed a finger to his lips.

"You know that's not how this works." He moaned again, the truth was he had no idea what I'd be doing while I was out, how far my 'date' was going to go. And he never would. Oh, he had ideas, he always did, but this wasn't about him watching me or getting to know all about my exploits. I wasn't going to go get fucked by some hung, dominant stud so he could watch and get jealous. This was about me, about what I wanted, and that was simply how things worked. I'd come home later tonight and I would reward him for his patience and his obedience with a night that made our regular sex life look pale in comparison. And considering what our regular sex life looked like that really meant something. I stood, smiling at him and blowing him a kiss. "I'll see you tonight my eager little slut." I told him, "That had better be ready for me when I get home." I pointed at his cock, hard and aching no doubt, and I had no doubt it would be that way when I returned from my date.

And with that I walked out of our bedroom, going to meet my young, handsome, so obviously eager to please toy for the evening, knowing my loving, devoted husband would be waiting at home for me aching and subby and desperate. I couldn't help but grin, all was as it should be.

To be continued...