The idea of being married to a professional dominant would probably horrify a lot of guys. Others would be seriously turned on by the prospect, and I have to admit, I fall into the latter camp. I love my wife, and as a longtime submissive male, being married to her is like being a kid in the proverbial candy store.

The entire basement of our townhouse is kitted out as a dungeon, with every type of device you could imagine for restraining someone and playing their nerves like a delicate instrument. Just looking at the array of toys Kara owns — the black leather floggers and masks and spike-studded collars — is enough to make my dick stiffen. A massive bondage table in the middle of the dungeon holds pride of place. I had been strapped to that table on many evenings, crying out in agonized pleasure as Kara amused herself with my body.

When we fucked — which we did often — it was with the delicious knowledge that not only did Kara want it, but that she more often than not had instigated our coupling. A lot of times she would simply take me by the hand and pull me toward the door to the dungeon, smiling wickedly over her shoulder at me. Having her gyrate on top of me, while keeping my hard cock prisoner in her lithe body, was an incredible feeling. The fact that I was locked down hand and foot, powerless to so much as scratch an itch, made it even better.

The knowledge that she was also regularly topping other men in the dungeon didn’t bother me in the least. We had an agreement that her business — which was extremely lucrative — would never cross the line into actual sex with her clients. Like most professional dominants, it was a line she would never have crossed anyway. Kara saw her work more as a kind of intense therapy. So, the idea that other men might be licking my wife’s lovely feet or taking a spanking from her — while I caught up on paperwork in our home office — never bothered me in the least. For someone like me, it was a perfect arrangement and a perfect marriage.

And then Irina entered the picture.

I came home one day, and she was just there, lying stretched out on our couch, watching TV. She was possibly the tallest girl I’d ever seen, in her early 20s, with platinum blonde hair styled with a severe undercut. She wore a tank top and shorts and that was pretty much it, except for multiple piercings. When she became aware of my presence, she simply gave me a big, sweet smile and went back to whatever show she was watching.

Well, I wasted no time finding Kara, who was in the kitchen putting together a plate of tidbits and matching glasses of iced vodka.

“Who’s that in the living room?”

“Oh, that’s Irina,” Kara said breezily, as though strange girls popped up in our house all the time. “She’s a new friend of mine. She’s a real doll.”

Irina was Russian and had recently come to the States to work as a model. Kara had met her at some social function, and the two had hit it off immediately. It seemed kind of an odd pairing. There was a good 20 years between them, and Kara hadn’t really been one to seek out the company of younger people. I knew Kara spoke a little Russian, but while my wife tended to be very gregarious, Irina preferred to remain quiet. She did smile a lot, flashing white teeth and red lips in a way I found indescribably charming and sexy.

And speaking of sexy, the two women made a striking pair. Kara wasn’t as tall as Irina, but she carried herself with the imperious air you’d expect of a classy domina. With her long dark hair and sultry, cool demeanor — and not to mention, a killer wardrobe — she was the perfect counterpoint to Irina’s punky look. Soon they were making the rounds together at the city’s A-list fetish clubs. Not long after that, Kara brought Irina into her business as a part-time assistant, doing sessions with her Russian friend posing as either her partner in domination or her live-in submissive. Online reviews raved about Irina; Kara’s clients couldn’t get enough of her.

Inevitably, I began hearing chatter from our friends that my wife’s young friend was more than just a protégé. Kara didn’t deny the rumors. We have an easygoing marriage when it comes to extracurricular activities, though neither of us has taken much advantage of that open-door policy. But the truth is I wasn’t overly disturbed by the idea. In fact, I found the image of Kara and Irina tumbling around together in bed more than a little hot.

On the other hand, since Irina began hanging out at our place, Kara and I had not been enjoying each other’s company as much, and I began to feel the lack. We talked about it on one of the few nights Irina wasn’t around and agreed it was time to give our dungeon a workout together — with me on the receiving end, of course. We set a date and cleared our calendars, and when the following Friday night rolled around, I was ready for action.

Kara was dressed in a classic domme uniform of skintight black leather and high-heeled boots. With her hair worn up and a whip curled around her wrist, she looked like some classic TV villainess. I was instantly captivated. As was usual when I was bottoming for my wife, I myself wore nothing, which was a little embarrassing, given how quickly my dick always responded to her. I knelt at her feet with my hands clasped behind my back and my cock pointing straight up, waiting for her for orders.

She pushed a boot forward and demanded, “Kiss it.”

I obeyed, reveling in the rich, sharp scents of leather and polish. Next, I kissed her extended hand, and then she nodded toward the bondage table.

“Get up there,” she ordered. “When I get done with you, you won’t be able to move a muscle.”

My gloating goddess was as good as her word. In no time, my wicked wife had me strapped down in a classic spread eagle, and I really was helpless. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of being tied up by a real expert, but it’s a feeling like no other. I knew I was in no danger, of course, but being immobile like that does things to me. My adrenaline was going into overdrive, making my heart pound. And, of course, it was an incredible turn-on. Kara drew a black-gloved hand over my lower belly until it brushed teasingly over my cock. I groaned, longing for my wife to curl her fingers around my shaft and jerk me until my balls emptied themselves all over her leather-clad fist. But she simply smiled and rubbed together her fingertips, which were sticky with my pre-come.

“We are going to have so much fun with you!”

“We?” Kara’s casual use of the word made my stomach drop. She couldn’t possibly mean what I thought, could she? She must have misspoken, mustn’t she? And yet, she was the mistress. In that moment, she was my queen. She couldn’t possibly make a mistake like that. 

“Mistress?” I asked timidly. As the sub, I should have kept my mouth shut, yet I couldn’t help myself. “What do you mean by ‘we?’”

Kara was already fastening a black silk mask over my eyes. It was one of her favorite items, which would ensure I’d have no idea what delicious torment was coming next.

“Be good,” she said coolly. “Don’t question your mistress. I know you’re not that scared — or else you’d use your safeword.”

Point taken. It was a basic rule of ours that if I got seriously uncomfortable, I would say my own name as a signal to stop the scene. And not only had I not done that, I felt no urge to do so. My cock was so rigid it felt like it might shoot off like a rocket at any moment.

Soon I was aware of a body climbing onto the table with me. It might have been my wife; she often liked to climb on top of me and impale herself on me with exquisite slowness. But the body didn’t smell like Kara’s; there was no hint of the very distinctive perfume she liked to wear during scenes. This new body smelled warm, with just a hint of unwashed skin. What’s more, I felt a pair of hands carefully attaching nipple clamps to my chest, while the second body settled itself across my legs and began licking my stiff cock.

The slight discomfort of the nipple clamps being attached distracted me a bit, especially when the chain connecting them was tugged sharply. But the little starbursts of pain were nothing compared to the lavish strokes of a wet tongue being dragged up the underside of my cock. It felt incredible, but the teasing sensations were also maddening. No matter how much I thrust my hips upward, the torturous tongue wouldn’t finish me off. And when that tongue began exploring my achingly tight balls, I moaned out loud.

“Poor thing,” Kara’s voice teased. Someone pulled the chain, and my nipples sparked again with pain. “Oh, you’d love it if she stopped teasing and gave you a good old suck, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t reply. I was trying to work out whether I should ask who “she” was, although I knew perfectly well. Kara gave a little growl of displeasure and tickled my exposed underarms — a sure way to get my attention. I gasped and jerked in response to her cruel fingers.

“Well? I asked you a question, darling. Would you like a suck?”

The tongue lapped over the little fleshy ridge, just under my cockhead, and I groaned.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered. “Please let her suck me.”

“Ask her yourself,” Kara said, slipping off my mask. I blinked at the sudden flood of light and finally spotted Irina crouched over me. She was smiling that faintly unnerving smile as she licked my cock again and again. She was wearing her usual outfit of a torn T-shirt, short shorts and plenty of jewelry.

“Isn’t she a pretty kitty?” Kara asked, stroking my cheek.

Irina released a low, leonine growl that very nearly made my balls explode.

“Ask her to suck you,” Kara said teasingly. “Go on. Maybe she’ll do it.”

“Irina,” I said, my voice hoarse. I was aware of my cheeks turning bright red. “Would you please…suck me?”

Irina purred and said, “Yes.”

The leggy blonde positioned her pale hands on either side of my shaft, holding it steady, while she lavished it with long, sucking kisses. I was almost delirious with pleasure. Her sounds alone were driving me crazy. There are some girls who are just so damned good at sucking cock, I’d gladly let myself be tied up forever — just so they can blow me again and again. Irina was one of them. And keep in mind, this was a girl I’d been watching pad around my house half-naked for weeks and weeks until I was helpless to avoid fantasies about her.

In this case, though, Irina might have been a little too good. Her tongue was showing me pleasures that were out of this world — nearly unnatural in their intensity. My pre-come was flowing. But as my inner machinery kept straining toward a full-blown orgasm, I seemed to get no closer to it — even when Irina switched from kissing my dick to hoovering it with the suction a vacuum cleaner.

What’s worse, Kara seemed hell-bent on distracting her. She’d lean over my body and pucker her lips, causing Irina to abandon my prick to kiss her. Meanwhile, my wife’s gal stroked my cock hand over hand — one of my favorite ways to be teased, I might add — and played with my balls, while Kara let her long fingers creep ticklishly over my chest and sides. But by now the girls were very much involved with each other, kissing like two lovers encountering each other for the first time. They were moaning as their lips smacked noisily — maybe that was for my benefit, but I’m not so sure.

A few moments later, Kara was climbing off the table with Irina close behind. The girls were still practically joined at the lips, their hands roaming and slowly undressing each other. Meanwhile, I lay on the table, still tied down and unable to do anything but watch.

I wouldn’t have minded so much, except for the condition of my dick. I don’t think I’d ever wanted to come so badly in my life. The teasing I’d undergone from my wife and her friend had left me as stiff as hell, with an itch in my balls that seemed unlikely to go away on its own. If I’d had a hand free, I would have absolutely jacked myself off — even if Kara had ordered me to resist. Had they actually forgotten about me, or was this part of my wife’s plans to tease me out of my mind?

I tried calling out softly to Kara but got no response. She and Irina had curled up together on a leather loveseat in one corner of the dungeon. It’s a spot Kara normally sits in it during foot-worship sessions. By now both women were naked and were wholly focused on kissing each other’s breasts. Even in the shadowy light of the dungeon, I could see the girls’ nipples were coral pink and stiff, sticking up like fleshy pegs. The sight was almost as arousing as Irina licking me.

I called to Kara again, louder this time, but didn’t have any better luck. It was tempting to call out to them and beg them to come back to me, but I knew my wife took a dim view of subs hijacking a scene. I decided to hold tight, watching to see what would happen.

Pretty soon Kara took hold of Irina’s bare foot and positioned it between her legs, so that the girl’s big toe was pressed against my wife’s clit. Once she had it where she wanted it, she sank back onto the loveseat’s cushions, sighing and muttering to herself. Irina was willing enough to accommodate her, pressing her foot against Kara’s crotch with a steady rhythm. The way Irina moved made me think she’d had plenty of practice at this game. While she worked at Kara’s button, my wife fingered her own tits, pinching her nipples and gasping. Kara had always been very vocal during sex, so I wasn’t surprised when she began crying out, groaning and cursing under her breath. Irina’s toe was bringing her closer and closer to a shattering climax. I couldn’t help but wonder if she might slip it inside Kara’s wet pussy for a foot-job of a different kind.

Instead, Kara took hold of Irina’s ankle, lifting her foot from her pussy up to her lips. She kissed and bit at the blonde’s lovely toes. As she did this, she put her own, smaller foot up against Irina’s pussy and began giving her the same treatment she had just enjoyed. It’s possible she might have just come, but it was hard to tell. Kara is vocal, but she doesn’t always announce her orgasms. Irina cooed and hissed as she received pleasure both to her clit and her toes. She was mumbling in another language that sounded incredibly sexy to me. I lay there on the table watching them and still wishing I had some attention for my throbbing dick.

Suddenly, Irina went stiff all over, sitting upright and making a loud, hysterical-sounding cry. She grabbed Kara’s foot with both hands and pressed it hard against her pussy as she shook all over. There wasn’t much doubt that she and Kara were opposites when it came to reacting to their climaxes. I made a mental note to keep an ear open on nights when Irina stayed over, if I awoke and found Kara missing from our bed. If I heard that distinctive, gabbling cry, I’d have a pretty good idea about what was going on.

Anyhow, at that point Kara and Irina got up from the loveseat, stretching lavishly like a couple of sun-drunk lionesses. They padded over to the bondage table and once again climbed aboard, this time switching positions. My wife’s lips were hovering over my dick, and I could practically feel her warm breath.

“You’ve been a good boy,” Kara purred, licking her lips. “Very patient. Wasn’t he, Irina?”

Irina chuckled and leaned over me, smattering kissing across my cheeks and forehead. Her attention made me feel bashful. Then I cried out as Kara’s lips enveloped my cock, sinking down until they closed around its thick root. My wife sucked me off quickly and efficiently. It took only a couple of pulls before I felt my cream spurting out. Kara moved her mouth at exactly the right moment, smiling as my jism boiled over my balls.

“Clean him up, darling. Then untie him and come upstairs,” Kara said. “You can join us if you like,” she told me, with a wink. “If you recover in time, maybe you can put that cock of yours to good use.”

With that, Kara left the dungeon and Irina got to work lapping my load off my cock and balls. The feeling was almost unbearably ticklish. But I managed to behave because I couldn’t wait to join them.