FIVE WORDS

 

by Velvetglove

 

 

STANDARD DISCLAIMER AND COPYRIGHT

 

‘Five Words’ is a fictional story. Neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality and any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental. Copyright is claimed by the author.

 

 

Part One: July

 

“Does your offer still stand ?”

 

Five Words.

Just Five Words. The five words that changed his life. The handful of words that turned him from a husband, father and successful businessman into something else entirely. This is the true story of a man who really did live the dream that many male submissives think they would like to turn into reality. Ignore that baloney about it all being fiction in the disclaimer above. Kelly and Mart are actual people and the events certainly happened, pretty much exactly as laid out here.

 

It was the first evening of the rest of their lives. Their daughter had left home and moved to Los Angeles to live with her American boyfriend. They were alone together in the big house on the south coast of England that they had purchased with the proceeds of the sale of their company. Kelly was still only 38 and Mart was 42. They were both dynamic enough, rich enough and young enough to do exactly as they wanted with the rest of their lives.

 

“Does your offer still stand ?”

It referred to an offer he had made her six years earlier. It was after a role play session they had managed to squeeze into their busy schedule of business entertaining, social engagements and looking after their teenage daughter.

A bit of Fem Dom suited both of them. Nothing heavy, just a bit of mild bdsm fun. Mart was much keener than her. He would have liked to play their games as often as possible, but Kelly had been happy with play once every four to six weeks. He wanted to push on to a deeper level, while she said she was apprehensive of where it all might lead.

Above all, Chantal, their daughter, was around most of the time. It was only those occasional Saturday nights she spent with grandparents or friends that created the opportunity for ‘fun and games’.

 

“When she’s grown up, we could live like this twenty four seven.” Mart said once, only half joking.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Kelly replied, basking in the hazy afterglow of alcohol and endorphins.

“I mean it.” He said, suddenly serious. “I want to be your slave. No limits. Full time. You can have it all.”

“Is that an offer ?” she giggled.

 

After that, it became their private joke. Each New Year’s Eve, they’d kiss and she’d whisper in his ear.

“I’m still mulling over your offer you know.”

Gradually, their sex life had evolved. They had met when she was 18 and he was 22. She was a virgin, he was inexperienced. The early years were typical; plenty of missionary sex, some oral and a bit of experimentation with the likes of blindfolds, dirty movies and, once, golden showers.

The next decade was predictable too. A decline in frequency and quality, as work, parenthood and over-familiarity got in the way. Mart pushed about twice a week and Kelly did her wifely duty.

Role play was something they only got into relatively late. At first, it was always Mart topping from the bottom, although Kelly learned what she liked. She realised that sex was better if it was about her needs.

Somehow they fumbled along, sticking together, still in love.

And after “the offer” was made, Kelly very gradually began to take more control.

 

“Does your offer still stand ?”

Five Words. They hung in the sultry air. It was a warm evening. Saturday, 8^th July 2006.

They’d both already shared almost an entire bottle of pink champagne.

He gulped, staring into her mischievous brown eyes.

“Er … sure.”

“This time, I mean it.” She said. “Now Chantal’s gone, I want to be your Mistress. No limits. Full time. I want it all, just like you said.”

He looked at her, then finally exhaled a long breath. Phew.

“No limits ?”

She shook her head, then pushed her brunette hair back off her shoulders.

“None.”

The atmosphere was humid, thick and tense. He suddenly realised she had prepared for the occasion; a sexy linen dress that accentuated her curves and cleavage, more make up than usual, and her hair done up.

“Wow !” he chuckled nervously.

“This isn’t a game, Mart. I’m not playing. This is your one chance. We can carry on as we have for twenty years and forget this whole conversation. Or we can do it. But we can only do things my way. And you may not like that.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you ?”

A pause. “Yes.”

She held out her empty glass and he got up to fill hers. Then he went to top up his own.

“No.” she said firmly. “No more for you.”

She’d been nagging at him to cut down on the booze and step up the jogging for a couple of years. He’d pretty much ignored her.

“Is … that a test ?”

“Hardly. I’m afraid ‘tests’ will be much harder than that ?”

He tipped the remainder of the champagne into her glass instead and put the empty bottle down.

“Fetch me a bowl. The big red salad one from the lower cupboard.”

On autopilot, he obeyed her. When he returned, she had hiked up her summer dress and removed her thong. She was standing with a crooked grin on her face.

“Hold it for me.”

They had done a golden shower once before, years earlier. But never in his face or mouth. It wasn’t something that turned him on so he’d never suggested it. Nor had she until tonight.

“Kneel.”

He got down and held the bowl under her thighs as she opened her legs and lowered her hips. He fixed his eyes on her labia.

“No.” she said. “From now on you don’t even peek at me there unless you are invited. Look up into my eyes instead.”

He raised his head and stared intently. Her eyes were like deep, moonlit pools. Her expression was amused, loving but … different.

He heard a hiss and then the sound of her urine spraying the bowl. He felt a fine mist of splashback settling on his skin. The scent was strong, recognisable. The fluid sloshed as she kept filling the bowl.

Eventually, after over half a minute, she was finished.

“Now decant that all into the empty bottle.”

 

From that evening onwards, he only ever drank alcohol ‘second hand’. It was one of the many small ways she tormented him. Mart had always enjoyed a drink and he had steadily built up a pretty good cellar of fine wines. Serving bottles of vintage Bordeaux and Burgundy to Kelly, and her friends and visitors, hurt a lot, even after he had become used to a totally alcohol free regime. Meanwhile, there were always a dozen or so bottles of ‘golden nectar’ brewing in the cellar for him, alongside the wines he had collected.

 

“Yes. My offer stands.”

She nodded slowly.

Was this what she really wanted ?

Yes, the honest truth was, she did. For too many reasons to go into now. But it was still a strange moment. A step into the dark. What awaited her ?

“Then I accept.” She replied.

They chinked glasses. She smiled at his expression, as if he’d eaten a lemon, toasting his imminent slavery in her still warm, frothy and sour urine.

“Er … how do you want to … you know … start ?”

“Right away.”

“This minute ? Tonight ?”

“Yes.” She said. “But first I want you to know a bit about what you are getting into. A few rules.”

She watched him dry-swallow, his sexy green eyes wide. She’d always loved his eyes. They were the first thing she’d noticed about him all those years ago. They’d never changed, even while his biceps had softened, his waist had thickened and his curly hair had thinned.

“You are going to live a one third, one third, one third life. What I mean by that is that you will spend one third - or eight hours a day - doing domestic work for me, another eight hours at work in a job somewhere, and you’ll have eight hours for sleeping, washing, and the rest. And that will be your routine seven days a week from now on.”

He was obviously shocked.

“But … we don’t need money. I can stay here all day.”

She took a long swig of her champagne.

“This isn’t going to work if you query every single one of my decisions. I know we don’t need the money. For that very reason you are going to do a manual labour job on a minimum wage. It’s to get you out of the house.”

He shut his eyes in a long blink.

“As I said, this isn’t a game, Mart.” She kept her voice as controlled as possible. Quiet but firm. “I’m not playing a role this time. But we have to do things my way and I warned you that you might not like it. Now I’m going to ask you one last time. Do you want to do this, or not ?”

He was beaten. And he knew it. So did she.

“Yes … please.”

“Right. I need space. So you are going to do a job afternoons and evenings. On at least six days a week, usually seven, and most weeks of the year unless I take you abroad. As I said, it will be a minimum wage job, and we’ll find a use for the pittance you earn soon enough.”

The words were flowing more easily now. She felt confident. This was going to work. She felt a flush on her neck, and moist down below.

“Get down on your knees, Mart.”

He didn’t leap to obey, but he did as she told him.

“Lift my dress and remove my pants.”

She took her weight on her arms so he could lower her thong. They had done this several times, in role play and at other times, but she had never, ever ordered him to do it with such calm assurance.

“Do me while I talk.”

She parted her thighs and shivered as his tongue split her gummy folds. For a while, she didn’t speak, just shut her eyes and sighed.

“In the mornings and early afternoons, you’ll do all the house and garden chores. And drive me about, run errands, that kind of thing. Seven days a week. Understood.”

It wasn’t really a question at all. She didn’t encourage him to respond. Instead she hitched her knees up over the sides of the chair so she was splayed wider and her buttocks shifted forwards.

“And you will also go running and follow a fitness and diet regime set by me. I like my men to look young and fit, Mart.”

She tugged his curls, shifting his mouth to where she wanted it. Yesss.

“Most importantly of all, my love, your days of masturbation are over. You think I don’t know what you get up to in your office at night !”

She pulled at his curls, making him wince and gasp. She was humping his face now, grinding her swollen clit onto his tongue.

“And I know the idea of chastity is something that turns you on. Well,” she gasped, “… let’s s … see if real ch … astity can … mmm … be used to turn you off as well !”

She mashed her hips excitedly, enveloping his lower face.

“Kiss my ass.”

His lips circled her rim and his stiff wet tongue made her squeal out loud.

 

From that evening onwards, analingus went from being something that she had previously only enjoyed during their role play, having bathed and scented herself, to become the basis of their foreplay instead. It was amazing how taking up his offer of a 24/7 relationship, unleashed in her desires and kinks she would never have thought possible. It was his mouth – via rigorously brushed teeth four times a day, and gums swilled with mouthwash before and after sex – that now bore responsibility for hygiene. Her bottom was, after all, required to perform its natural bodily functions and she couldn’t always be bathing and perfuming herself just because she fancied a bit of anal worship.

 

“May I ask one question ?” he asked, after she had recovered from her climax. He had never seen her orgasm as completely and noisily as that.

Was this what he really wanted ?

Yes, the honest truth was, it was. Nevertheless, it was one thing to fantasise. It was quite another to try and make it reality. And it was something else again to carry it through, no strings, full time, forever.

She looked down at him in a half-smile and slowly nodded.

“Ask away.”

“Is this like … er, permanent ?”

“Yes. Well, maybe when we’re in our seventies we’ll call it a day ! Who knows ? But until then, yup, it’s permanent.”

“How …”

She put her finger to her lips, telling him to shut up.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. You need a threat hanging over you. So I’ve drawn up divorce papers and an agreement giving me all our assets and money. We’ll both sign the documents tomorrow and I’ll keep them undated in the safe. I won’t abandon you Mart. But the only way you’ll get out of our arrangement is by starting life again from scratch. Poor and alone.”

He shivered. His ultimate fantasy. But … she was making it reality.

She was evidently awaiting an answer.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Is that all ?”

He had so many questions but he was afraid to ask.

“Do you still love me ?”

She frowned. He saw genuine confusion in her shadowy eyes. She’d obviously expected him to ask anything but that.

“Sure.” She said finally. “Do you love me, even though you want … this ?”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Exactly. Well I still love you. But it won’t always seem that way. Are you ready for that ?”

Her smile was soft. He looked at her, dreading what he was getting into. He realised that he would no longer just be able to reach out and touch her, fondle her breasts, stroke her butt, kiss her mouth, whenever he liked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Stand up.”

He rose to his feet, standing to attention in front of her.

“Drop your pants.”

He undid his belt, unbuttoned and lowered his trousers and briefs.

She smiled at his semi-erection.

“This conversation exciting you, Mart, or making you afraid ?”

“A bit of both.”

“Undecided, eh ?”

Her long, slim beautiful fingers reached out and one hand cupped his balls.

“You will never masturbate again, Mart.” She said. “Never. Not so long as you stay with me. Do you understand that ?”

He didn’t comprehend. Couldn’t. But he bowed his head in acceptance anyway.

“I may masturbate you instead. Very occasionally. But more likely we will make love. The more you please me, the more we might do it. But from now on every release will have to be earned. Earned the hard way.”

And boy was he hard.

She ran a teasing finger up the underside of his shaft.

“Do you want to come ?”

“Pl … please … yes …” He could barely speak.

She chuckled.

The longest they had played this tease and denial game so far was 36 hours, during a long weekend the previous summer when Chantal was staying over with friends. It had nearly driven him mad.

She started to pump him casually, up and down, in a too-slow rhythm.

“I should come quickly if I were you. I may get bored.”

He shut his eyes, concentrating, willing his balls to explode.

“Look at me.”

He wrenched them open and focused on her amused expression.

He had jacked himself off the evening before. A quick, sordid jerk off on the toilet. It served no purpose other than to feed his habit. Mart knew he was a masturbation junkie who needed a regular fix.

And now ?

“If you come, I want you to know that it will be the last time for at least one month, probably much longer.”

He whimpered. His knees were trembling, his thighs felt like jelly.

“My arm’s tiring.” She said, hand slowing further.

Please !

“I … I …” he gasped.

And then he felt the marvellous moment of no return. Yessssss.

She pulled her fingers away as he stiffened and grimaced.

“Nah … plz … gnng …”

His erection jerked and he humped thin air, seeking any sort of friction. He raised his right hand but she slapped it down. A single jet of semen spurted straight upwards and then fell in a raindrop at her feet. But there was no follow through. A second globule gathered at the tip of his twitching penis and slowly oozed onto the floor. No more appeared.

There was a silence of over thirty seconds while he composed himself.

“Now.” She said nonchalantly. “Let’s get you locked up, shall we ?”

 

She had secretly purchased four different chastity devices in preparation; Two were for day to day use, reputedly 100% secure, but more comfortable and discreet. Two were for wearing at home, both made of steel, one designed to inflict pain in the event of even the slightest erection. In future, they kept his genital area shaved and creamed to prevent chafing and she unlocked him most days for cleaning, hygiene and depilation with her leg hair remover. Further chastity devices were soon to follow, two fitted to size, until she was totally happy with her entire array. Mart’s cock and balls belonged to her !

 

It was just after ten that night, when she closed the guest room door. He was tied naked to the big brass bed, wrists and ankles cuffed to the four posts. He wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure.

“Goodnight.” She whispered, opening a window. “Don’t let the bugs bite.”

“Goodnight.” He replied. “Mistress.”

She turned and smiled, puckering her lips in a kiss.

“We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” She switched on a bright lamp by the open window. It wouldn’t be long before the mosquitoes and bugs were attracted to the light. And the tasty flesh on display. She didn’t enjoy hurting him. But, if the insects did her dirty work, well …

She shut the door and leaned against it with a sigh.

Phew. She needed a drink.

Downstairs, she poured herself a small brandy. She rarely drank spirits but tonight was an occasion for exceptions. After taking a sip, she fetched her cell phone from inside her bag and dialled.

Voicemail picked up.

Kelly waited a moment for the beep.

The message she left was brief. Just five words in fact.

“Hi … I have done it.”

 

 

End of Part One

To be continued in Part Two (“August”)

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

 

I would like to thank all those readers who have posted reviews or emailed feedback. My original intention was to post one Part per month over a year but due to the strong response to this story, I have decided to speed up the process. Parts Two, Three and Four will follow before the end of July 2007. I’m afraid that I know I will not be able to please everybody in the months to come; some want cruelty, others romance, many like cuckolding, some do not, quite a few want lesbianism. Please feel free to keep sending me your thoughts and ideas.