The night I met my husband I never would have guessed him to be the adventurous lover he turned out to be.

We’d been introduced at a political fundraiser, one of those tedious affairs featuring entrees consisting of rubber chicken and marginal wine, and a blowhard political candidate who couldn’t hold our interest.

Phillip was dressed in the official uniform of the corporate executive: dark suit, white shirt, red tie, wingtips. What thirty-something year old wears wingtips? I wondered. Meanwhile, I was dressed in my version of conservative: a short black skirt with a white silk blouse, patterned tights and black high heels. Phillip and I were seated next to one another at dinner as the boring speakers lauded their candidate. Sometime between the main course and the chocolate mousse, we began a game of feeling each other up under the table. It was exceedingly naughty and immature — and lots of sexy fun. The conservative-looking executive had great hands. Our entertaining night sparked a sizzling relationship, and one year to the day we met, we married.

Phillip is thirty-eight to my thirty-one. We live a life many would envy. Our ranch-style house includes a kidney-shaped pool and is surrounded by lush landscaping. It’s a wonderful home in a conservative neighborhood. While we might appear as old-fashioned as our staid neighbors, we’re very different behind closed doors.

Phillip is my personal superhero; his daytime attire and professional demeanor are tossed aside by nightfall, when he becomes the wild and imaginative lover of my dreams. Three years into our marriage, I still have butterflies of anticipation in regards to our lovemaking. My husband has always been attentive to my needs whenever I express them. However, despite his loving and generous nature, I was hesitant to admit that I wanted to be tied up and fucked. I had always been a carefree and uninhibited lover, but the idea of being bound was a secret desire that gave me shivers of delicious fear. I had never told anyone about my longing to be bound and helpless — until I confessed the fantasy to Phil, who promised to make my dreams come true when I least expected it.

The first night Phillip tied me up, he’d begun making love to me in a very usual way. He followed me into the bedroom where I had planned to change out of my work clothes into something more comfortable. He came up behind me and circled his arm around my chest, pulling me close to him. His hand rested on my breast, teasing my nipple through my clothing, while his other hand worked its way underneath my skirt. His fingers traced my slit, traveling back and forth along the crotch of my panties. In a few minutes, I was spread out on the bed, naked but for my lingerie. Phillip was kissing and tonguing my nipples through my bra as my hands roamed his muscular frame. His kisses increased in intensity until he pulled my bra free and began directly nibbling and sucking on my nipples. My pussy was wet and ready for him when he stopped my hands from their exploration and pulled my arms above my head. In no time, he had my left wrist tied and bound to the bedpost with a length of rope. He then tied my other wrist to the opposite post. My reaction was immediate and intense; I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. I writhed and moaned, beseeching my husband with lust-filled eyes.

“I like you this way,” Phillip said, looking me over with wolfish hunger. Since I was well secured, he returned his attention to my nipples, sucking and nipping them until they were tender with want.

“Fuck me,” I begged. I thrust my pelvis up, grinding myself against his tempting erection. “Please.” I was more than ready to have him slam his cock into me.

“Not yet,” Phillip teased, a tone of gentle chastisement in his voice. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.” As he spoke, he worked his way down my body and slid off my panties before grabbing my left ankle in his hand and securing it to the bedpost. Then he did the same with my right. My naked body was spread out before him. I was helpless to resist anything he wanted to do to me — and I loved every second of being so well captured.

“This is perfect,” Phillip said as he trailed his fingers up my thigh before sliding a single digit inside my dripping pussy. He worked it in and out of me at a maddeningly slow pace. I squirmed wildly, trying to get him to fuck me harder and deeper, but my bonds held me fast. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I need your cock, okay?” I tried to raise my hips off the mattress, but there wasn’t enough slack in the ropes. The bindings burned deliciously against my skin as I twisted my hands. “Please, Phil,” I begged over and over again. Being bound and giving up all control made me wild with passion.

Phillip began to work his tongue on my clit. The sensation was so exquisite and frustrating. I couldn’t grab his head and direct the action. I was on the brink of a great orgasm when he rose and found my mouth with his, kissing me as he slammed his cock into me. I could taste my pussy on his mouth, and I cried out as my orgasm washed over me in great waves. Phillip soon followed with a climax of his own.

After he untied me, there were marks on my wrists from where I’d struggled against the ropes. Phillip kissed the chafed flesh, promising me he’d use something less abrasive the next time he made me his captive.

“Next time?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh, yeah. They’ll be a next time — you can bet on it,” he assured me.

That night was the beginning of something great. Phillip is quite creative in the ways he indulges my bondage fetish. He has used handcuffs, silk ties, leather cuffs lined with fur. His methods vary, and he’s always looking for new ways to surprise me, like the other night.

We’d gone out for dinner with one of Phillip’s coworkers and his wife. A nice enough couple, a bit boring, but the food was great and the wine even better — and Phillip’s hand under the table promised me that we would be having amazing sex when we got home. After dessert, we said our good-byes, gathered our car from the valet, and were on our way home when Phillip revealed that he had a present for me.

“I don’t know if it’s a present for you or for me, really. But I have a suspicion you’ll like it,” Phillip teased.

“What is it?” I wanted to know.

“You’ll see,” Phillip responded as he reached under my dress to tickle my clit.

When we got home, I didn’t waste any time getting into the bedroom. Phillip had told me to strip down to my panties and wait for him. I wondered if he’d gotten me something naughty to wear. I imagined all sorts of nasty and slutty lingerie as I sat on the edge of our king-size, four-poster bed, impatiently fidgeting.

“Ready?” Phillip came into the room still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to dinner. He looked incredibly handsome in his dark brown slacks, sea-foam green shirt and camel blazer.

“I look ready, don’t I?” I spread my legs to give my husband a view of my pussy through my sheer undies.

“You most certainly do.” Phillip came to me and reached down, pulling my hair back with one hand as he kissed me. His other hand slid inside my panties, his fingers thrusting in and out of my pussy before he stepped back. “Here,” he said, handing me a package. I had to take a second to catch my breath; my mouth and pussy both wanted more of Phillip. Never mind the package in my lap.

I hurriedly unwrapped the box and dug through the tissue paper inside. I could see something beige in color, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I pulled the item out and held it up for inspection. As I began to unfold the garment, I realized what my husband had given me: a straitjacket. A heavy canvas straitjacket with metal buckles and thick straps. It looked real, not like a prop or something you would find in a sex shop. I was a little confused, but my pussy helped me make sense of the erotic possibilities.

“I thought we had exhausted all of the usual ways to put you in bondage, and then I came up with this,” Phillip said with a mischievous grin on his face. “Ready to give it a try?”

I was astonished, but my pussy flooded with wetness. The straps and buckles called to a primal place inside me. I bit my lips nervously and nodded.

“Stand up and put your arms out,” Phillip ordered in a husky voice.

I did as I was told. Anticipation — and a familiar shiver of fear and lust that I always feel when Phillip is about to tie me up — coursed through my body. Phillip slipped my arms through the canvas sleeves and crossed them, buckling the straps tightly. He continued to affix all of the jacket’s fasteners, including the crotch strap that snuggled against my pussy indecently. My arms were held firmly against my body, and the stiff fabric teased my erect nipples. I couldn’t move my arms at all; the buckles wouldn’t give when I struggled against them, which made my heart race. Phillip turned my bound body to face him. He looked me up and down as I continued to fight against the straps.

“Keep trying, see where that gets you,” he said, smiling lewdly. “All right, lie down like a good girl.”

With Phillip’s assistance, I lay down on our bed faceup, with my arms crossed and bound in front of me. Each movement of my body made the canvas rub against my pussy, enflaming my lust.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I asked hopefully.

“No. Not yet. But I’ll be back.” Phillip turned and headed out the door, leaving me alone. I couldn’t believe it!

Since my legs were free, I wriggled off the bed and wandered over to the full-length mirror. I looked hot in my black sheer panties, high heels and the straitjacket. I struggled against my bonds as I stared at my reflection. My face was flushed, and the strap pressing against my pussy shifted ever so slightly as I moved, making my desire spiral out of control. I went back to the bed and lay on my stomach, shimmying my hips and trying to rub my clit against the strap and the mattress in order to make myself come. It was extremely maddening not to be able to touch myself. I wanted Phillip to come back and fuck me.

The sensation of being bound in the straitjacket was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I felt more confined, somehow more restricted than when Phillip tied me up with rope. I was grateful to have my legs free. But my confinement was certain — as was my arousal.

Phillip came back into the room after almost a half an hour. “Are you enjoying your present?” he queried. As he began to undress himself, I turned onto my back to watch him strip.

“It’s okay,” I said as I continued to struggle and squirm.

“Just okay?” he asked, now down to his shorts. I could see his erection straining against the fabric.

“Better than okay, but I need you to fuck me — now,” I beseeched, rocking my hips.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do,” Phillip said as he came to the bed, pulling off his shorts and letting his hard dick spring free.

“Please, Phil!”

The sight of his body and his hard throbbing dick were nearly enough to push me over the edge.

Phillip flipped me over onto my stomach and began to undo one of the buckles. He unfastened the strap that covered my pussy, and then flipped me back over. He grabbed my legs right above my knees and pushed them wide. He began to lick my pussy through my panties. I wanted so much to grab his head, but the jacket held my arms fast.

“Oh, that’s so good!” I cried out, feeling helpless and totally turned on.

I was on the edge of a fantastic orgasm when Phillip flipped me over again. He pulled my panties off and slipped a finger into my wet cunt, fucking me madly but stopping as I was about to come.

“Not yet,” he admonished, recognizing the pre-orgasmic signals of my undulating body. Phillip spread my cheeks wide with his hands, murmuring, “Your ass looks fantastic.” My face flushed hotly; I was aroused and embarrassed as he examined me so intimately, and then he began to rim my asshole. The feeling of his tongue flicking against my hole was dirty and delicious, and the sensation pushed me closer and closer to climax. When I was once again on the verge, he pulled away and plunged his cock into my pussy. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly as he roughly thrust his cock in and out of my cunt for a half dozen strokes. I was quivering as he pulled out of me and turned me over. I was thrilled to be manhandled and used in this way. I lifted my hips, bucking them upward to convey my need.

“You want my cock?” Phillip was straddling my thighs and stroking his cock, which was shiny with my juices.

“Please, baby.”

“Let me think about how I want to fuck you.”

Phillip sat back on his haunches at the foot of the bed, looking me over. I obediently spread my legs to entice him with an unobstructed view of my wet, swollen pussy. If it weren’t for the straitjacket I would have reached down and spread my lips for him.

In a flash, Phillip grabbed me in his arms and bent me over the edge of the bed. Gripping me around the waist, he supported me as he kicked my feet apart and jammed his cock inside me. I was breathless as pounded me with his dick. I couldn’t take it any longer; my orgasm consumed me as my cunt quivered around his shaft. The spasms of my sex seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, slapping his pelvis against my ass as he rode me to his finish. Phillip groaned, slamming into me one last time before shooting his load inside me.

Breathless, he pulled out of me, and I felt his hot come dripping down my thighs. I stood on shaky legs as he began to unbuckle the straps, freeing me from my sexy prison. I shook out my arms, amazed at how wonderfully intense my straitjacket experience had been, but also happy to be free.

“Do you like your new present?” Phillip whispered in my ear.

“I do,” I responded.

“Good, I think it will get lots of use.”

“I sure hope so.”

Phillip put the straitjacket aside, and I was already dreaming of the next time we might put it into play. I thought of all the other items he uses to bind me: the handcuffs, the rope, the silk ties, and the fur-lined cuffs. I tried to pick my favorite. I considered the delicate caress of the fur-lined cuffs, the unforgiving hardness of the metal handcuffs, and the rawness of the hemp rope. All of these methods are erotic in their own way. But the straitjacket is so deliciously confining, like an embrace from which I can’t escape. The canvas is rough, the buckles so strong — I might have found a new favorite way to be bound.

I decided that night that I would have to find a way to thank my husband for my present. I’m lucky to be married to a man who is my perfect partner in kink.