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Message-ID: <45927asstr$1071868207@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Ron Garret <rongarret2000-assm@yahoo.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25
Subject: {ASSM} Happy Fucking Anniversary Pt 1 (MF, rom, dom)
Date: Fri, 19 Dec 2003 16:10:07 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Don't read this if you shouldn't read it, your community standards might 
find this story to be objectionable.  It contains a form of play acting 
known as dom/sub, as well as a bit of bondage.  It is the start of a 
story that I hope to continue.

This text is copyright 2003 by Ron Garrret and may not be archived on 
any system aside from the assm archive for the specified period as 
defined in the headers.  It may not be re-posted except in its entirety 
with this notice intact and unmodified.  It may not be displayed nor 
linked to by any commercial service without prior permission secured in 
writing with a valid contract.

I welcome comments, but I'm not looking for partners.

Most of all, I hope you enjoy the work.

-=-=-

Happy Fucking Anniversary
By Ron Garret

MF Rom Dom/Sub

Chapter 1: Dinner

"Happy anniversary," I said to my wife, lifting the glass of wine to 
clink against hers.  The Middle Eastern music made for a rather 
intriguing background for the event; this was our 15th.  Quite a 
milestone, no matter what the measurement.  And just the start for us..  
The hardest road was just about to begin, as our only daughter was about 
to enter into the teen years.

"Happy anniversary," she replied with a smile and a delicate sip of her 
wine.  It is strange in a way, describing the action of a two hundred and 
fifty pound woman as being delicate, but for those who are unfamiliar, 
you'll just have to take my word on it.  Yes, alas, I don't get to enjoy 
a woman dominate position very often.  And a few other positions require 
some creative positioning, but all in all, I don't have much to complain 
about.

The main meal arrived.  To be fair, we came here with expectations of 
another place we were more familiar with, and comparing the two was like 
matching apples with oranges.  It just wasn't the same.  "No belly 
dancers," noted my wife with a sigh.  "And piped in music."

"I wonder," I replied, my fork unenthusiastically pushing unidentifiable 
meat around the plate.  "If we replace the present CD with one of 
Hawaiian music, do they have to start serving Poi?"

Yeah, you might not get so much of a kick out of my humor, but my wife 
does, and the evening brighten considerably as we debated various dishes 
they'd have to serve with various music CDs.  The limitations were to fit 
with the garden d,cor - it was really open season to just about anything, 
so long as you were creative about it.

Eventually we bored ourselves of the restaurant, and of the food, and the 
poor vintage choice.  Since the service pretty much matched the food, I 
didn't feel guilty stiffing the tip..  A trip to Starbucks to make a 
purchase with that tip money seemed appropriate; since we provided our 
own amusements, we should get our own reward.  And we both needed this, 
needed it to be as relaxing as possible.

The coffee trip over, we drove over to the motel room we were going to be 
using for the evening.  Sitting in the car, relaxing for a few minutes, 
we went over the rules a couple more times.  It really just, well, didn't 
need to be done.  It was a stalling tactic, mutually agreed on.

"No fluids in my mouth," my wife was saying.  "I mean, accidents happen, 
and I'm sure as hell not talking about pre-cum, but no pissing, no 
shooting off."  I'd be rather happy to go back in time and shoot the 
balls off the fucker that screwed that up for me, but after fifteen 
years, I'd pretty much become resigned to the facts of life.

"No fluids," I agreed.  It was funny that this was usually the last thing 
that we said to each other as direct partners.  But hey, all the others 
were enjoyable, perhaps this was some mantra that helped bring us such 
luck.

We got out of the car, and I stopped her, hugged her, kissed her 
passionately on the lips, and told her that I loved her.  Another ritual, 
perhaps, but again, why mess with what works?  Everything else this 
evening was going to be different, ground the beginning in what has been 
proven to work before.

I smirked on the way to the room, especially the look on the face of the 
Pilipino manager when I explained what I wanted.  Two adjoining rooms, 
give a duplicate key to the people in the second room.  The rooms on each 
side of those were to remain vacant for the night, the rooms would be 
paid for by us if she managed to rent the others.  Other than the 
addition of the extra room, pretty standard fare for us, and she'd come 
close twice to forcing us to pay for the extra rooms.

Close can be fun, if you're talking about sex, but in business, it 
usually means you got egg on your face.  The room buffers were there to 
offer us a bit of privacy, and to prevent random cop calls.  We get loud, 
but not that loud..  Slaps generally carry through walls, not across 
corridors.  I slipped the key-card into the slot, opened the door, and 
held my wife back for a moment, performing yet another part of our 
ritual.  "If you enter through this doorway, you leave 'you' behind.  
Nothing beyond this door is about you, no one wants to hear if you want 
to cum, nor if you have a need, unless you are asked.  You take no 
pleasure for yourself which you have not been given specific permission 
for; violations of these rules will result in severe punishment.  Your 
only avenues of escape are by the words of safety, or when we have tired 
of you.  Make your decision now..."

Ok, fine, corny.  It works for us, so stop snickering at us.

In this case, she actually held back for a moment - worrying me that 
perhaps the cat was out of the bag.  Maybe it was something in my body 
language that was foreshadowing what was going to happen.  Whatever it 
was, she walked into the room.  I stood at the doorway, the door still 
open, and snapped out, "Strip, everything off."

Aww, damn, not even a moment of worry, just a look of furry from her 
eyes.  I rolled my own at such a silly form of outburst.  I let her get 
down to her underwear before I stepped in and closed the door behind me.  
One of these days, those kids in 2B might actually get a good show.. Or 
maybe their mother will get a job.  Come to think about it, they likely 
already get a good enough show at home.  Ahh well.

The wife was soon naked and standing still, waiting for whatever was 
next.  I had gotten over here earlier in the day, preparing things - one 
of which was making sure that the room was set a little cooler than was 
perfectly comfortable.  It was a welcome thing for later moments when 
sweaty efforts were underway, but for someone standing still, naked, it 
was, well, cold.  Cold nipples are great places to start.

"Make no sound," I commanded, as I reached across and touched, lightly, 
her breasts.  Running my hands around them, under them, lifting them, 
holding them.  Everywhere but the nipples themselves.  Her breasts have 
always been one of her more sensitive areas, and one of my great 
pleasures to exploit.  A few minutes of that treatment, and her breath 
was coming a bit stronger through her nose, and the nipples were 
painfully erect.  I grabbed what was waiting for me on the table and 
brought the riding crop down on her left nipple with a smack.  I love 
this thing; the lightest touch even usually makes for a great smacking 
sound.  I know for a fact that had the same blow come on my balls, I'd 
hardly react.  Her, it was if I had slugged her in the breast instead.  
"Oh!" popped out of her mouth.  "NO SOUND," I snapped at her, bringing 
down the crop on her right breast, the one most sensitive.  She actually 
bit her lip with that one, bringing a wide grin to my face.  A moment 
ago, there was fire in her eyes, now they were cast down to the ground.

I wiped the expression off my face and I threw the crop across the room 
angrily.  "Damn it, woman, I told you NO SOUND!"  I must have phased her 
a little with that, as she opened her mouth to object, but I stomped on 
that. "What do you think you're doing?  Arguing with me?  Shall we 
continue this outside?  Shall I gather an audience for you to be punished 
before, so they too can see your humiliation?"  I sort of love these 
damned if you do, damned if you don't scenarios.

"What, you're keeping quiet in the hopes that you'll be strapped to the 
bars around the pool and everyone can come out and see what a fucking 
slut you are?  Shall I get some numbers so they can get in line to use 
you?" I hissed at her.

"NO!" she yelped, "Please not that, Master."

I nearly shouted into her ear, "Did I say you could talk?!?  I told you 
no sound, none, not at all.  That's it..  I was joking before, but you've 
gone too far this time, woman."  I stormed over to the adjoining room 
door and pounded on it.  "Is there anyone in there?  Anyone in there that 
wants to come use a woman who hasn't learned her place yet?"

My wife's head whipped around when there was a muffled reply from the 
next room.  We always keep those rooms empty, it's part of the game, 
yet...  "Damn it, slut, what are you looking over here for!  Fuck this, I 
was going to allow you to look at your molesters, but I'm not taking any 
more shit from you tonight."  I stormed across the room and pulled out a 
bit of black material.  "Yes, this will work as a blindfold.."  I walked 
back to her and roughly put it around her head, covering her eyes.  
"There's some more over there.. I hope this was part of a shirt you 
liked," I grumbled, ripping the fabric in two.

"Sit," I ordered as I came back to her, another one of those unable to 
comply commands even if she wanted to.  I shoved a chair behind her, 
pushed her back roughly, and then tied her arms to the rests on each 
side.  "There," I decided.  "Much better.  Now to see what it is that we 
have next door.  I hope they aren't old people, might kill them just by 
my suggestions..."

"But dear," she started to say and then clamped her mouth shut.

"Again, you break the rules.  What, you're too good for them tonight?  Do 
I have to get the bull whip out to teach you some manners again?  Go 
ahead, say your safe words, speak and all this will end.  Otherwise shut 
up and take the punishment you've so richly earned."  I waited, I held my 
breath..  It was this moment that would make or break the evening, and I 
was really hoping for a make.

"Come on, you were so willing to speak before, say the words, end this, 
because if you don't, I'm going to go bang on that door and get whomever 
is in there to come join our little party here. I'm going to have you 
spread your legs so that they can see your shame, how you've shorn off 
all that hair, made yourself as naked as a little girl.  I'm going to 
make them touch you, and I'm going to make you touch them as well.  Speak 
the words, or shut the fuck up until I tell you to talk!"  Ugh, this was 
a nail biter.

But after a couple minutes it was obvious that all I was going to get 
from her was silence, silent approval for whatever it was that I had up 
my sleeve.  That's what the dom/sub scene is all about.  Trust.  Total 
trust, and how not to abuse it.  Well, not abuse it too much.

I went back and pounded on the door again, demanding whomever was in the 
next room to open their side of the door.  I wanted them to do something 
for me.  Again there was noise next door, and when the deadbolt snapped 
back, my wife gasped.  "I hope there's at least one guy there," I said in 
a sneering voice towards her.  "I'm going to make you suck his cock for 
that little noise.. Make much more and I'll have him shove that cock up 
that pussy of yours.  Maybe there'll be two of them, one can violate your 
ass while the other pounds into your pussy."

Talk about timing, the door opened just as I finished the word, and my 
wife let out a whimper.  I gotta make sure I check to see how the fluids 
were doing under the hood, if she was bone dry, I'd have to back off a 
bit.  Though I was willing at that moment to bet a fin that when I check, 
there will be a puddle on that chair.

To be continued in Chapter Two: The neighbors.

-=-=-

I wrote this mostly to keep myself writing, and of the several things I 
wrote, this was the only one that seemed to be going anywhere.  I'm not 
sure where I'm going to take this one, but it seems to have the 
ingredients to be at least interesting.

As always, I welcome feedback.  rongarret2000-assm@yahoo.com

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