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From: "sfmaster" <sfmaster@worldnet.att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP Superbowl Sex Slave F/m bdsm cons
Date: Sun,  3 Feb 2002 07:10:08 -0500
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WARNING!  This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains
Strong Sexual Content.  It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only,
and the author does not in any way condone similar behavior.

If you are under the age or 18 or reside in a state, nation, or planet that
prohibits such behavior, stop reading immediately!!!





Superbowl Sex Slave
by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net



Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you

Include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this
story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.

However, individual readers may make single copies of the

story for their own, non-commercial use.



Copyright (c) 1999 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net



Attn: Readers please feel free to send e-mail to the author.  I do want to
hear from you!







Superbowl Sex Slave    
by sfmaster@Worldnet.att.net


"Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, pulling my suitcase into the foyer behind me.

I'd just spent the better part of today, or was it yesterday, flying back
from Taipei on a business trip.  Taipei to Hawaii, Hawaii to Los Angeles, LA
to New York.  I had  finished days earlier than I thought I would.  While
Taipei was nice, I had been there numerous times before.  And I had gotten
just so homesick!  So I was lucky enough to find a seat on a flight home, so
I came home unannounced, to surprise my husband, Christopher.

"What the hell?" I asked aloud.

I hung my coat in the hall closet, appalled at the stench of cigar smoke in
the house!  I had quit smoking years before, and knew when someone had lit
up something close to me.

I smoothed out my leather coat on the hanger, then removed my black beret
that I like to wear. Silly me, I hadn't even removed my black gloves! Guess
the trip had disorientated me!

Looking at myself in the mirror, I sized myself up.  I was still wearing the
business suit that I had donned in Taipei, as my hosts drove me to the
airport.  Else I would have worn a Gap sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers in
order to fly.

Chris and I have been married for three years, and he had bought the house
even when he was single.  We live in the affluent village of Glen Cove,
surrounded by plenty of property.  The house was a ranch, with bedrooms
upstairs, kitchen, dining, and living room at ground level, plus a playroom
downstairs.

He owns his own company, the daily management he has given over to his
brother.  I work for a firm in Manhattan, which I refuse to give up.

"Ohhh!" I cried when I entered the kitchen.

The sink was filled with dirty dishes, clogged up, with food floating in the
still water.  Disgusting!  Appalled, I walked down to the playroom.  On the
table were the remains of last night's Superbowl party.  A small part of a
hero (how many were here yesterday?); bowls of dip; beer cans; ashtrays
filled with cigarettes and cigars; glasses with drinks in them.

The carpeted floor was a mess, with ground in popcorn, potato chips, and
peanuts all over the place.  In short, the place was mess!  Not what I had
been expecting when I came home early!

"Honey?"

Chris had appeared, dressed in pajamas, a robe, and slippers.  He walked
down the stairs, and kissed me on the cheek.  The sight of him should have
filled me with passion, instead he stank of cigar smoke and booze.

"What happened here?" I asked.

"I had a party," he answered.

"Yes, I can see that.  Why is the house a mess?" I demanded.

"Honey, you came home early, I wasn't expecting you until Wednesday, and
it's just Monday morning.  Rosa would have had it cleaned up by your
return," he replied.

"Yes, Rosa would have it cleaned up, and today's her day off."

"I could call a cleaning service, and there would be no trace of the party
by afternoon," he offered.

"You know, I grew up with just Mom raising three kids.  She supported us by
cleaning houses after Dad left us, and I had to put myself through NYU on
loans & scholarships.  It always appalls me about the casual way you spend
money."

"We could clean up together?" he offered.

"No honey, I gave you permission to have a party.  Not a riot.  It's going
to take hours to clean this place up!" I protested.

"What do you want to do, call Rosa in and pay her extra?"

"No, I'm not going to call her in on her day off.  You're going to clean up,
and you stink!  What did you do, pour whiskey on you instead of drinking
it?" I asked.

"We got a little enthusiastic last night."

"Yes, I can see that," I answered, pointing at the room.

"I'll call Rosa then."

"No you won't," I ordered, "you're going to do the cleaning.  I don't care
if you do everything and all Rosa has to do is watch soap operas all day
long tomorrow, but you're going to clean the damn house!"

"I don't feel like doing that," he answered.

"Yes you do slave," I replied, seating myself on the couch, brushing away
popcorn and chips, "over my knee!"

"Mindy?" he sadly looked at me.

"I said, over my knee!  Now!"

Perhaps I should explain myself as my husband draped himself over my
herringbone wool suit.  I had always been interested in D/s; after a
girlfriend had loaned me "Story of O" in High School.  Afterwards, I
discovered the whole fetish scene in New York in my school years.  Clothing
shops, D/s clubs, then scene parties.  I had started as a sub, then
progressed to switch, and finally to Dominatrix.

It was at a private party where I had met my future husband four years
earlier.  A mutual friend had introduced him to me as a submissive, and we
had hit it off, and then played.  Then we began seeing one another, playing
occasionally.  Then he proposed marriage after six months, and I was a
married respectable woman, with a hubby, and house in the suburbs.  All I
needed next was a minivan and two kids.  But I didn't want to exchange my
executive job just yet for diapers, cookies and milk, and soccer games. I'd
worked too hard and too long to get the job I wanted, in order to make up
for all the years of doing without as a kid, remembering the taunts of kids
who had more than I did (kids can be so goddamn cruel).

We are a quite attractive couple, Chris is 38, slim, muscled, and had black
hair and wonderful blue eyes.  In fact, at parties I had to keep an eye on
him, given that women would flirt or worse.

I'm 35, also slim, with the barest tummy bulge showing, no matter how many
diets and workouts I do.  I stand 5 feet 10 inches in heels, with brown hair
and brown eyes.

"I gave you permission to have a party," I said, "not a riot!  And now a bad
little boy like you is going to pay for this big mess!"

I pulled up the back of his robe, and pulled his flannel pajama bottoms
down, exposing his ass to my forthcoming tender attentions.

Whack!

I didn't have my hairbrush handy, but my hand would do.  Nicely!

Whack!

Whack!

Whack!

If Chris objected to his punishment, he didn't give any indication.  I
spanked his bottom moderately, raising the heat of his skin, and leaving it
nicely red.

Fact is, I had other things in mind, and the spanking was just the
beginning!

"Up slave!" I ordered.

Chris rose from my lap, but didn't pull his pajama bottoms up, since he had
not been given permission to do so.  His meaty cock was erect and aroused
from the mild punishment that I had given him.

I'm a very passionate woman, and I would have liked nothing more than to
have that shaft between my legs, banging away.  But not when he stank of
booze, and the house was a total mess!

"Now I want you to go upstairs, get really cleaned up," I ordered, "and
dress up as Christine."

"Christine?" he repeated.

"Yes," I answered, "Christine.  Totally."

Chris was a sub who wanted to try everything, and one thing he had always
fantasized about was dressing as a woman.  He was certainly attractive
enough (no beer gut or any extra fat on him!); so I knew that he would make
a good-looking woman.  He had therefore gone to Vera's Finishing School in
Manhattan at my urging.

He had gone as Chris, and had returned as Christine.  When totally made up
and dressed, he could pass for a woman (except for the Adam's apple).  I
often took him to private scene parties as a woman, and he had fooled more
than one person over time.

Jokingly we had spent a good sum of cash, on both vanilla and scene clothing
for Christine.  In the back of the closet was a nice assortment of things
that would fit him.

"I want you in your Maid's outfit in red," I ordered, "totally in rubber,
including stockings, bra, panties, gloves, and heels.  Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"I want you totally showered and cleaned up, made up and perfumed.  If you
fail to meet my inspection, you'll do your chores today with a butt plug up
your bottom.  Now get dressed!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Chris smartly answered.

A little over an hour later (I had made a concession to clean up the sink),
I was seated at the kitchen table.  I had eaten half a grapefruit, and had
made a pot of coffee.  The Times and Newsday lay spread out on the table in
front of me.  Christine appeared in front of me, standing at attention.

He was now wearing his rubber Maid's outfit, just as I had ordered.  From
his feet (now encased in rubber hose and five inch high heels) all the way
up, he was a woman and quite an attractive one at that!  He had even
remembered to wear the falsies under the rubber bra, so he had boobs as
well.

"That's better," I said, commenting on his appearance.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"I want a cheese omelet, toast and coffee served in the dining room.  Then
you can start to clean up."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Or else there will be further punishments," I threatened, rising from my
seat.

"Yes, Mistress."

While Christine busied herself in the kitchen, I called in to work.  I said
that I had finished early and had come home, but didn't want to go into the
City.  Oh the wonders of the electronic age!  I had all of my reports and
notes in my laptop, and I would download them to my home PC.  I had some
extra work to do, then I would send them into the City.  So I could work
from home, get the house cleaned, and do a little scene with hubby.

Breakfast was entirely uneventful.  We had not been served food on the
plane, which was just as well.  Perhaps airline execs should be forced to
eat their own food, certainly they should be confined in their seats for
hours at a time.  Flying can be so much fun!

After eating, Christine cleared away the dishes, and placed them in the
sink.  Then we went downstairs together, and I pointed out what had to be
cleaned.  Which was everything!  It was a really good thing for Chris that
the TV was in the playroom, and not in the Dining Room.  Had they made a
mess there as well his work would have been doubled.  Along with my anger!

I retired to my office (we have two, his & hers) to do my work, as Christine
began the arduous task of cleaning the playroom.  I fired up the computer,
chewed on a pencil, and began to work.

I was not conscious of the passage of time (since I delete the clock on the
right side of the screen) until the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I cried.

Made up as Christine it might have been a little embarrassing for a mundane
(non-scene) person to see Chris dressed in red latex.  So I would answer the
door.

"Dawn!" I greeted my best friend from down the block as we hugged, "how are
you?"

"Fine, Mindy.  What are you doing home so early?"

"Finished early, so I decided to come home."

"How was the trip?" she asked.

"Just fine."

"Where's Chris?" she asked.

"It's Christine today.  He was a little naughty for having a party that left
a mess in the playroom."

"What's the punishment?"

"Maid for a day."

Dawn and her husband Bob live just down the street, with two teenage girls.
If any couple were typical suburbanites, I thought it was them, until the
night we ran into them in the Vault in NYC.

Dawn was a lovely blonde, and stood just five feet in her stockings, which
was why she always wore four-inch heels.

"Want a soda?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Let's retire to my office."

Dawn followed behind me after I stowed her coat in the hall closet, and
then I called to Christine to deliver two Cokes to my office.

"Your drinks, Mistress," said Christine as she brought them to us.

"You look simply luscious," complimented Dawn.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Go ahead, Dawn," I told my guest.

Dawn reached under the pleats of Christine's skirt, and began to massage the
hard cock encased in the rubber panty underneath.  Christine moaned and had
to make an extraordinary effort to remain still.

"Don't come darling," I ordered.

"Yes, Mistress."

I knew that Dawn was trying everything to make Christine shoot off his load,
even unzipping the panty and inserting her fingers into the confining rubber
to get at the cock inside.

"Ooooooh!" cried Christine.

Abruptly, Christine suddenly lost control.  His cock was fully erect under
the rubber skirt, and I watched in wry amusement as the spurts lifted the

Rubber pleats, then dripped from behind the rubber.

"Naughty!" I declared, "You weren't given permission to come!"

"No, Mistress."

"Since you've embarrassed me in front of my guest, I want you to get some
tissues and clean up what you've done to my carpet.  Then change into
another uniform, and come to the living room. With my hairbrush!  Do you
understand?" I demanded angrily.

"Yes, Mistress."

Red faced, Christine left us alone as I sent my reports into work, then
taking our sodas we adjourned to the living room.  I went down to the
playroom, and found that everything was done!  Christine had cleaned all the
surfaces, vacuumed and shampooed the rug, and cleaned the furniture also.

A few minutes later, Christine joined us in the living room.  He had changed
into another uniform, and offered me my hairbrush.

"I have cleaned your office, Mistress, and also finished the playroom
downstairs," explained Christine.

"So I see, except that you were very bad in coming without permission. Hand
the brush to Dawn, as she has the privilege of punishing you."

"Yes, Mistress."

Meekly, Christine bowed before me, then handed the brush to Dawn.  She
indicated that he drape himself over her denim clad legs, which he did. Dawn
wasted no time in pulling down the red rubber panties, exposing a hairy
bottom just ripe for punishment!

Dawn began with a series of light smacks, since she wanted to size up
Christine first.  The mild strokes that I had done earlier had faded, and
Dawn was therefore presented with an almost fresh bottom to use.

"Ow!

"Ow!"

"Ow!

Christine cried out with every smack, her ass cheeks bouncing as each stroke
left it's mark on one buttock or the other.  In no time, Dawn had painted
the previously virgin bottom red.

"You naughty boy!" cried Dawn.

Dawn and her husband Bob were truly enthusiastic spankers, and I wondered
whose bottom in that house suffered more.  They both liked to switch, and
often.  True love!

"I'm getting awfully hot, can she eat me out?" asked Dawn.

"Sure," I answered, "Christine, you may do whatever Dawn wants of you."

"Yes, Mistress."

Dawn continued her relentless punishment of Christine's bottom, and I could
see that the flesh was quite warm and red.  From the way my girlfriend's
cheek were flushed red, I knew that she was awfully excited also!

"Mercy, Mistress!" cried Christine.

"Kiss the brush then," ordered Dawn.

Sobbing slightly, Christine kissed the wooden brush when offered.  Dawn had
done a really good job on the bottom, and Chris would remember it each time
that he sat down at work this week!

"On the floor and eat my cunt," ordered Dawn.

Without a murmur or protest, Christine tearfully sank to the floor.  Dawn
pulled off her sweatshirt (I envied her as I was still in my damn business
suit, not having changed!) then jeans, revealing panties with Valentines all
over them!  No doubt a gift from Bob!  She then pulled down her panties
revealing her fragrant pussy, then sat on the edge of the couch, and leaned
backwards, opening her legs.

"You may proceed," she ordered.

Christine buried her face between Dawn's opened legs, the wig completely
covering his short hair.  My guest was soon squirming and moaning as my
hubby sucked and licked his way into making her come.  Not that Dawn was too
difficult to bring to climax, as she was usually wet between the legs.

"Oh!  Oh!" quickly cried Dawn, as she soon was bucking with one climax after
another, as they ripped through her small frame, her breasts bouncing up and
down, since she wore no bra.

I watched with wry amusement as Christine brought one climax after another
to my best friend, remembering that just weeks before it had been Bob
between my legs!

"That was terrific," cried Dawn, her naked body heaving with the wonderful
afterglow of a satisfying orgasm, "thank you, slave."

"Off with your skirt, slave," I suddenly ordered.

Christine removed the red latex skirt, with the panty still stuck around her
knees.  His cock was huge!

"Take off the panty, I don't want it ripped," I ordered.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Eat me too," I ordered, removing my suit jacket, white blouse, skirt, bra
and panties.  Soon I was totally naked on the couch seated next to Dawn.

Again my hubby applied his magic to my raging wet pussy this time, since I
was wet and excited after seeing Dawn both punish and brought to climax, I
came very quickly!  Soon I was moaning and squirming, and held his head
tightly to wet fragrant cunt.

After one climax than another tore through my naked body, I could stand no
more.  I reached over and handed a box of condoms to Chris.  Then I laid
down on the carpeted floor and opened my legs wide, after resting my bottom
on a small throw pillow.

"Fuck me!" I ordered.

Chris was wearing the red latex blouse, gloves, garter belt, latex stockings
and high heels.  I just loved the scent of sweat and rubber together!

His next action was to place the condom on his huge purple shaft, then kneel
over me.  I raised my wet cunt up to him, and he buried his shaft up to the
balls into my love tunnel.

"Oh!" I cried.

Chris pistoned his shaft into my cunt, us both moaning in unison.  I stole a
glance at Dawn, who was frigging herself in concert with us.

Since I was already on the verge of climax, it didn't take long for me to
have one earth shattering screaming orgasm that I swear must have echoed off
the walls.  Chris continued to pound me into the pillow and I didn't know or
care how much time had passed, or how many orgasms I had, or just about
anything then.

  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Mrs. Carlson?" asked Rosa.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" I asked, pausing from my work on the computer.

"Madam, the house is clean.  Nothing for me to do!"

"That's fine, Rosa.  You can just make lunch, then tell me what happened on
the soaps today."

"But who cleaned the house, Mrs. Carlson?" she asked.

"My husband," I answered.

"Mr. Carlson?" she replied, confusion on her face, "I can't get my husband
to do anything around the house except watch TV.  How do you do it?"

"Make a pot of coffee, and I'll tell you," I answered, "tell me have you
spanked anyone lately?"

      THE END

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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