Sex for my husband and me has been exceptionally exciting ever since we started acting out our wildest fantasies. Submissive by nature, I love assuming the role of a woman who, while protesting mightily, secretly craves total subjugation to a man. Scott, being the dominant one in the family, is only too happy to satisfy my needs in our lust-charged scenarios.

One time, for example, I was a Scottish schoolgirl sent to the head-master for being tardy one too many times. Dressed only in a tartan mini-skirt and prim white blouse, my hair in a beribboned ponytail, I bowed my head as Scott chastised me, protested as he tied me up, cried out as he spanked me, acted innocent when he made me suck on his penis and screamed in ecstasy as he introduced his cock to my steaming pussy.

On his birthday, I dressed in a black corset, a garter belt and stockings and told him that I was his for the night-he could do anything he wanted with me. He tied my arms above my head, bound my ankles together… and accused me of being a witch. When I protested, he decided to test me with his “staff of truth.” I was so horny by the time he got around to the “probing” that he had no trouble rolling me on my stomach and entering me from behind, even with my legs tied together.

Last weekend our erotic game soared to new heights as we tapped another latent fantasy and incorporated a hint of exhibitionism into our play. We had rented a cottage by the sea for a three-day weekend, and although Scott hadn’t mentioned anything, I’d certainly noticed the sturdy brass headboard and footboard on the bed.

We took a romantic moonlit walk on the beach, but on the way back, Scott seemed to grow more and more distant. He unlocked the cottage door and practically shoved me inside. I started to protest, but he cut me off.

“There are some clothes on the bed; go put them on,” he commanded.

As I headed to the bedroom, I heard him add in a deep voice, “I’ve decided to sell you off as a slave.”

On the bed I found a short gray skirt made out of a sweatshirt-type material and a ragged shirt of the same material, neither of which I’d seen before. I quickly put them on. The skirt was obscenely short and fit so tight that it left nothing to the imagination. The top was also tight, stretching over my full breasts. It was cut short, its tattered hem skimming my midriff and the lower curves of my breasts peeking out.

The door burst open and Scott entered. “Aren’t you ready yet?” he demanded. Without waiting for my reply, he held up a collar with a long chain dangling from it. “Come here,” he said. When I didn’t move immediately, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. As always, he was gentle enough not to hurt me but his actions suited the part he was playing.

“No one will buy you if you aren’t obedient,” he muttered, fixing the collar around my neck. He produced a pair of shackles and cuffed my hands behind my back. He stepped back for a moment to survey his handiwork and my costume, then grinned slyly. He ran a large hand around my waist to cup my ass firmly. “From the looks of you, though, you’ll collect me a pretty price.”

With a jerk on my chain, he led me from the bedroom to the living room. He had rearranged the lamps in the room so that they were all focused on one spot by the wall. The rest of the room was shadowed and dark. Scott led me to the brightly lit “stage “ and positioned me so I faced the couch along the far wall.

“Here’s a prize piece of flesh,” he announced to the couch. He paused, smiling and nodding. To my supreme amazement, I discovered that I could see men along the side wall. All were tall, burly, crude men, just as I would imagine slave traders and owners to be. I couldn’t see their faces except for their eyes-they seemed to gleam at me out of the darkness as the men sized me up. They ran their eyes over me so blatantly that I could feel it, as sure as if their rough hands were sliding over my body. My lips parted as I began to breathe more heavily. I glanced down and saw my nipples, hard with lust, poking obscenely against the clinging fabric of my top.

“Well shaped,” Scott said, summarizing my attributes for the prospective buyers. “Firm, supple…” He emphasized his words by turning me sideways and patting my ass again. I flinched, falling deeper into the part he had chosen for me and feeling offended and embarrassed at being displayed this way in front of a group of coarse men.

“Feisty, too,” Scott added, jerking on my chain slightly to remind me who was master and who was slave. I lifted my chin defiantly, ignoring the lewd comments the buyers were beginning to make.

“But let me show you her best feature,” Scott said. Before I realized what he was going to do, he had grasped my shirt in his hands and ripped sharply. The material fell aside, my tits bouncing free for all to see.

I tried to pull my arms around me, forgetting that my wrists were shackled behind my back. Scott laughed softly, hefting one breast in his hand and rubbing my pebble-like nipple with his thumb. “Who among you wouldn’t want to be feeling this?” he inquired of the audience. “This is certainly one slave you won’t be putting to hard labor.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Or maybe you will be.”

I pulled back sharply, using my shoulder to knock away his arm. My husband the slave seller frowned. “Perhaps a bit too feisty,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that I’ll have to take her back for a bit more training. I’ll be sure to contact you when she is ready for sale.” With those words he jerked on my chain again, pulling me back toward the bedroom. I resisted as best I could, but I knew full well who was in control. My heart pounded. I had offended my master greatly; certain punishment was in store. I couldn’t believe how wet the area between my thighs was.

Scott pushed me face-first onto the bed, then undid my shackles briefly so he could chain my wrists to the middle of the brass headboard.

“I’ll teach you to defy me, slave,” he growled. He lifted my skirt above my waist, and then his hand smacked sharply down on my ass. I buried my face in the pillow, muffling my cries, trying not to give him the satisfaction of breaking me. He continued to spank me, but then one of his blows landed lower, wMere my ass curved into the tops of my thighs.

“What’s this?” he murmured. I held my breath as he slipped a finger between my legs into the flowing wetness of my pussy. “Maybe I should try another way to teach you,” he said. He reached under me and flipped me over onto my back. I watched as his eyes took in my form, from my defiant eyes to my pointed nipples to my quivering crotch. “And maybe,” he added, “the men should see you being tamed.”

A moan escaped my lips, but whether I was reacting in horror or arousal, it was impossible to tell. Scott left the bed and went to open the bedroom door. He returned to stand over me as he stripped off his clothes. His cock waved above my face. He was obviously as aroused as I, as was evidenced by the pre-come that ran down his stiff prick. I licked my lips in hungry anticipation.

“You have the right idea, slave,” he said, kneeling over me and bringing his reddened cock to my mouth. I sucked him in, a low growl in my throat. The men were watching, I knew, and now I would give them the sight of their lives.

My husband pulled his Rick from my mouth and moved it over my face so I could lick the underside of it, down to his balls. I pulled his sac gently between my lips, then released it as he ground his cock back against my eager tongue. He pumped back and forth, and I licked in near desperation, wondering if I would pass out before he fucked me. My pussy was on fire, screaming for relief-the lightest touch surely would have set me off. I kept my eyes locked on his as he rocked above me.

“All right,” Scott said finally. “Now for the final lesson.” He repositioned himself between my legs, then lifted them and moved them wide apart, pressing my knees into my chest. He set the head of his cock at the opening of my engorged vaginal lips and with one thrust went completely inside me.

My hips were lifted completely off the bed and I shuddered with the intensity of my orgasm. My uncontrollable spasms set Scott off, and he, too, yelled as he came, pumping into me. He pulled out to let the last few shots of come spray over my chest and stomach. With a groan, he collapsed on top of me. After a moment he reached to free my wrists. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his neck lightly. I blinked and looked around. The room was empty save for the two of us.

Our role-playing certainly isn’t something we do night after night, but it does add spice to our sex life, especially when we can break free of reality and become other people.