"Kimberly's Proposal"
by Christopher

The soft knock on my door awakened me from my slumber. I looked at the clock on my VCR and saw that it was nearly ten-thirty. I must've dozed off while sitting on the couch, waiting for Kimberly to show up. It was a Saturday night, and Kimberly had called earlier to tell me that her husband had gone out of town on a fishing trip with some friends of his and that she might stop by later in the evening, if it was all right with me. Kimberly explained that she had a dinner date with an old friend and hoped to be finished by nine.

That had been one-and-a-half hours ago.

Rising up from the couch, I walked over to the door and opened it. Kimberly was standing there with a mischievous grin on her lovely face. I held the door open for her to come in and watched with evident desire as she stepped past me into the apartment. She was definitely dressed to kill. Kimberly was wearing a tight sapphire-blue skirt with a matching belt and high-heeled shoes, a long-sleeved sky-blue silk blouse, and skin-tone stockings. The colors of her outfit accented her beautiful blue eyes and striking red hair. I felt my heart leap into my throat, followed by a deep primal stirring in the area of my groin. I knew that I was falling in love with this woman, and it scared the living daylights out of me. She knew my darkest secrets, especially my desire to be dominated by a strong-willed female. I'd let her read several of my short stories about female domination and cuckolded husbands, and she had jokingly suggested that it might be time for her to trade in her present husband for a submissive one. Though Kimberly and I had stayed after work a number of times to listen to the bands in the lounge and had gone out to dinner on three different occasions, we'd managed to keep our relationship platonic. I couldn't help but wonder if that would change tonight.

"I'm sorry for being late," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Robert wanted me to go back to his place for a quick drink."

I felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Kimberly hadn't told me that her old friend was a gentleman. It suddenly explained why she was so dressed up tonight. I wondered if Robert was an ex-boyfriend or lover.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered. "We met over at the Venetian restaurant on Sahara Avenue. The dinner was great, and it was fun seeing Robert again."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure."

"I have a bottle of Asti in the refrigerator."

"Sounds good to me," she said.

I got two wine glasses from the upper cabinet above the sink, took the chilled bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, popped the cork, and poured a glass of Asti for each of us. As I did this, I noticed Kimberly moving around my small studio apartment. She suddenly stopped in front of my bookcase and pulled out the copy of The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield. Kimberly seemed restless as she glanced through it. I could tell that something was occupying her mind and figured that she'd let me know what it was when the time was right. I put the bottle of Asti back into the refrigerator, then picked up the two glasses and walked over to where she was standing

"Is anything the matter," I asked, handing her one of the glasses.

"Not really," she answered. "Have you read this book?"

"Three or four times," I replied.

"I remember seeing it on the bestseller lists for the longest time."

I nodded.

"Is it good?" she asked.

"I think so. It's certainly thought provoking. If you're open to what the author talks about, it can change your life.

"Has it changed your life?"

"Yes."

"Tell me how?"

"I look at the people in my life a lot differently now," I said.

"Is that good?"

"I don't know if it's good or not. I definitely feel closer to many of the people I consider to be my friends. It's like we've been together before in a previous lifetime."

"You mean like reincarnation?"

"Yes."

"Do you think we've been together before?"

"Maybe."

"As lovers?"

"Probably as brother and sister," I said, smiling at her.

Kimberly took a long sip of wine and stared boldly at me. I started to feel just a little nervous under her watchful gaze. "I want to ask you a serious question," she said, replacing the novel back to its rightful place on the bookshelf. "Think carefully about your answer and please be honest."

"Okay."

Taking another sip of wine, Kimberly turned around and walked into the opened area of my bedroom. She sat down on the end of the bed and crossed her shapely legs.

"Get down on your knees in front of me," she ordered. The tone of her voice had changed and the look in her eyes sent a small chill of excitement coursing down my spine. I instinctively sensed that this was not a game being played. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What's going on, Kimberly?"

"I'll only tell you one more time to get down on your knees. If you don't obey me, I'm going to leave."

I placed my glass of Asti on the counter, then walked over to her and did as ordered.

"Put your hands behind your back and keep them there," she continued. "You are not to look at my face without permission. Your eyes are to be focused on my feet. For the moment that's all you're worthy of looking at. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I answered.

"You are to show me respect," she demanded.

"Yes, Mistress."

"That's better," Kimberly said. "Were you serious about wanting to be a slave? Think carefully before you answer the question."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

"You're sure that this is what you actually want?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Would you like to be my slave?" she asked.

"Yes, I would."

"Would you obey my every command, no matter how painful or humiliating it might be?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said. "But what about your husband?"

"Don't worry about Walter," she said. "I do exactly as I please with whomever I want and he doesn't say a word."

"I see."

"No, you don't." Kimberly gave me a wicked-sounding laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She finished off her glass of wine and held it out to me. "But in time you will, darling. Now, go pour me another glass of Asti."

I remembered to keep my eyes cast downward as I stood up and took the glass from her. Walking back into the kitchen area of the apartment, I quickly poured Kimberly another glass of wine and then returned to where she was sitting. I knelt down in front of her again and held out the glass for her to take.

"Very good," she commented.

I continued to stare down at her legs and feet. Kimberly's right leg was crossed over the left and her foot was swinging lazily back and forth. I found the sight to be terribly erotic and wanted desperately to touch her legs...to run my hands up them and feel the silky texture of nylon against bare skin. In the years we'd known each other at work, I had never touched her in a sexual manner; yet, the desire to do so had been constantly in the back of my mind.

"Would you like to kiss my feet?" she asked.

I was surprised by her offer. Of course I wanted to kiss her feet! What submissive male wouldn't want to kiss the feet of this gorgeous woman?

"Well?"

"Yes, Mistress," I finally answered. "It would give me great pleasure to kiss your feet."

"I want you to place your hands behind your back again. Imagine that your wrists are handcuffed together."

I obeyed her.

Kimberly finished off the wine and then set the glass down on the floor. Leaning back on the bed, she supported her upper torso with her elbows so that she could watch me and raised her right foot until the toe of her shoe was touching my lips. Her skirt slid back an inch or two, offering me a view of the dark upper part of her hose. I immediately wondered if she was wearing stockings and garters. I suddenly felt like a teenager, trying to get a peek up a beautiful woman's skirt. Some things never changed in life. I could feel the excitement mounding at the thought of what she might have on underneath her skirt. I wondered what Kimberly would think if she knew what was on mind. Would it turn her on, knowing the affect she was having on me? Did she have any idea just how sexy she looked at the moment? Shifting my attention to the foot in front of my face, I slowly parted my lips and took the toe of her shoe into my mouth.

"Suck it," she ordered.

I certainly didn't need any encouragement. I worked my mouth up and down for a minute or two, and then slid my tongue lightly over the top and sides of the shoe, listening as she moaned with evident pleasure. The fact that she was enjoying this simple act of devotion excited me even more.

"That's it, slave," Kimberly said in a husky tone of voice. "Keep sucking my shoe. You can't imagine how wet I'm starting to get. Worship me as you would a Goddess."

Kimberly lifted her leg higher into the air and pushed her shoe deeper into my mouth. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I tried not to gag. It was then I suddenly realized that I could see all the way up her skirt. My eyes widened in amazement as their gaze traveled up the silky path between her legs, passed the stocking tops and garter tabs, to the red patch of hair at the center of her womanhood. She wasn't wearing any panties! I was shocked and delighted and about to go out of my mind with desire.

"Are you looking up my skirt?" she asked.

Not being able to answer the question with the toe of her shoe crammed into my mouth, I shook my head from side to side.

"I think you're lying to me," Kimberly said. "That's something a slave should never do under any circumstances, especially to his Mistress. I'll give you one more chance to answer the question honestly. If you don't, I promise that the punishment will be severe. Now, are you looking up my skirt?" I nodded my head. "So you did lie to me the first time."

I nodded again.

"You'll have to be punished for that," she stated.

I swallowed hard, wondering exactly what kind of punishment she might have in store for me. I knew from our previous conversations that the act of inflicting physical pain didn't really turn her on. Maybe it would be some form of psychological torment.

"Did I give you permission to stop sucking my shoe?"

I immediately started sucking it again as if my life hung in the balance.

"Sometime this week," she continued, "you and I will go shopping for a nice riding crop and maybe a good, sturdy paddle."

Uh-oh! I thought.

"I intend to take our relationship as Mistress and slave very seriously. I can already see that a hard whipping is needed to put the fear of the Goddess into you, and I promise that when I've finish beating that cute, little ass of yours, you'll think twice before lying to me again."

I stopped sucking her shoe and removed it from my mouth. "But you're not into physical pain," I said.

"I've changed my mind."

"You have?"

"I guess you bring out the dark side of my personality," she said.

"But...I'm not really into being whipped," I said. "That was just stuff for my stories."

"Too bad."

"But--"

"I don't like a slave who constantly whines," Kimberly stated matter-of-factly.

"Please Mistress."

"Don't say another word. Whether or not you're into corporal punishment is of no concern to me. The fact of the matter is that you're going to be whipped."

"Can't we discuss this?" I pleaded.

"You're just digging the hole deeper and deeper for yourself."

"I can't help it, Mistress. The look in your eyes is starting to scare me."

"Good," she said. "I shouldn't have let you read my short stories."

"Would you like to please me with that tongue of yours?" Kimberly asked, her eyes gleaming with mischievousness.

"Yes, Mistress," I replie Kimberly lowered her foot and then uncrossed her legs. She watched the expression on my face with outright amusement as she slowly opened her legs for me. "Come here," she ordered, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling my face into the junction of her body.

As my head slid past her stocking-covered thighs, she pulled her skirt back to allow me greater access. I could smell the alluring aroma of her sex, and it excited me. Gently kissing the inside of her legs, running my tongue lightly over the nylon onto the warm flesh, I listened as she moaned softly with pleasure.

"Let's see if you're as good at eating pussy as you are at talking," she said anxiously.

That was all of the encouragement I needed. Easing the point of my tongue between the moist folds of her flesh, I searched for the tiny bud that would be instrumental in bringing her to the ultimate state of ecstasy.

"Stop," she ordered. "I want you to first slide your tongue up inside of me as far as it'll go."

I quickly obeyed my Mistress.

"Yes, that's it. Feel how wet I am. Now, fuck me with your tongue."

I'd always loved performing oral sex on a woman because for me it was the perfect position for a slave. In fact, it excited me so much that sometimes I could almost reach an orgasm while doing it. There was just something about a lady gripping the sides of my face with her thighs, holding me firmly in place so that I couldn't escape, and demanding that I sexually please her with my mouth until she was completely satiated. That was really the kind of dominance I enjoyed. I wanted a woman to make me please her...to be forceful in her demands with perhaps the threat of punishment or humiliation as an incentive.

"You're such a good slave," Kimberly said in a soft, whispery tone of voice. "I may decide to keep you forever. Maybe I can talk my husband into letting you move in with us."

I lost my concentration for a second and had to keep myself from laughing out loud. Few husbands would allow their wife's lover to move in with them. I had to assume that Kimberly was simply wrapped up in the throes of passion, lost within the world of her fantasy. It was certainly a hot fantasy, but not one that could easily be adapted to the realities of day-to-day living. When my second wife, Carol, was alive, she used to make me lie face down in her walk-in closet. She would then hogtie my hands to my ankles and command me not to make a sound. Her lover, Jim, would arrive later, and they would spend the afternoon having sex. He always knew I was in the closet, tied up, helpless to prevent him from taking my wife. It used to excite him so much that he would often have three-to-four orgasms during the course of the afternoon. Jim was such a good lover that Carol would at times threaten me with the possibility of having him move in with us to make sure that I remained obedient to her demands. Though we both knew that it was an unlikely scenario, her threat always had the desired affect of breaking down my resistance to her dominance over me. After Carol died of cancer, I often wondered what our life together would've been like if Jim had lived with us. These memories made me think twice about Kimberly's remark. Maybe there was more to it than I thought.

Moving my tongue slowly back and forth inside her vagina, I noticed that Kimberly really was soaking wet! There was somewhat of a salty flavor to her juices, not to mention a certain degree of consistency. It made me wonder if she and Robert had shared more than a drink together when they went back to his apartment.

"Remember me telling you how bad I am?" Kimberly said as she ground her pelvis hard against my face.

I looked up at her face and nodded my head.

"Robert is one of my ex-lovers," she continued, "and we had sex before I came over here tonight. He didn't wear a condom."

I immediately started to withdraw my tongue from her body and to pull away, but then I suddenly felt her hand pressing down on top of my head, holding me in place. Her legs tightened their grip against the sides of my face, and I knew that I was her prisoner and would be required to eat her pussy until she was totally satisfied with my performance.

"Where do you think you're going? If you know what's good for you, you'd better keep eating me until I give you permission to stop."

I nodded my head in understanding.

"In time I think you'll learn to enjoy the taste of my lover's cum," she said. "You should be grateful that I'm even allowing you this pleasure."

I pushed my tongue back up into her vagina and started to slowly fuck her again, knowing that what I now tasted was Robert's semen. Well, I wanted to be Kimberly's slave. I guess this was a step in the right direction. For the next fifteen minutes or so, I serviced her with my mouth, lapping up the residue of her boyfriend like a happy little puppy with a bowl of fresh milk. Kimberly had at least two rather sizable orgasms during that short period of time before making me stop for a few moments.

"Do you like the humiliation of being made to eat my lover's cum?"

"Yes, Mistress," I answered honestly.

"I thought you might," she said, smiling down at me. "I want you to give me a key to your apartment. Robert and I are going to meet here on Saturdays to have sex."

"Why don't you use his place?"

"He has a girlfriend who lives with him," she explained. "We went back to his place tonight because his girlfriend is out of town for the weekend. Your apartment, however, will be a lot safer for us to use on a regular basis."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Kimberly was using me so that she could continue her affair with Robert. I was the perfect patsy. By agreeing to be her slave, she now had free use of my apartment whenever she wanted. All she had to do was whip my bottom once in awhile and to let me sexually service her with my tongue. Whoever said that the female species wasn't the smarter of the two sexes didn't know what he was talking about. Kimberly had used my own desires and fantasies to create the ideal situation for herself. Still, I was at least getting something out it.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked, sensing my unease.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Robert is not only my ex-lover, but my Master as well. I allow him to dominate me much in the same way as I'm going to dominate you."

I must've had a rather shocked expression upon my face because Kimberly immediately starting laughing at me.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"You," she answered.

"I just can't picture you being submissive to anyone."

"You should have seen us at the restaurant tonight," she said. "Once we were seated in the booth, Robert made me pull my skirt up over my hips. He then had me take off my panties and give them to him as a trophy. I had to sit there like that through the whole meal. I was so nervous and anxious. I kept thinking that someone was going to notice my nakedness. It was humiliating; yet, it was also sexually exciting."

"Did anything else happen?" I asked.

"Robert sat beside me throughout the dinner."

"And?"

Kimberly hesitated for a moment, then said: "Robert commanded me to keep my legs spread apart for his own personal enjoyment. He placed his left hand on my pussy and fingered me on and off for nearly thirty minutes, causing me to have one of the biggest orgasms of my life. The worse part was in having to act like nothing was going on, even when my body was literally shaking from the force of the orgasm. It was sheer torture. I cried when he licked my juices from his finger and said that he was going to make me his slave again."

"What happened when you got back to his apartment?"

"He bent me over the side of the couch as soon as we stepped through the door," she said. "He then pulled my skirt up and took me from behind like an animal in heat. After he ejaculated inside of me, Robert ordered me to stay in that position while he had a glass of wine. I was so afraid his girlfriend was going to unexpectedly walk in on us. When he finally finished the glass of wine, he took me a second time, fucking me long and hard with his magnificent cock. It's so big that I almost had an orgasm as soon as he entered me. Afterwards, he made me get down on my knees and beg for the pleasure of licking him clean. I felt like such a slut."

"Does your husband know about Robert?"

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think not," I answered.

"It's time for you to get back to work."

Kimberly then pulled my head back into the lush vortex of her womanhood and commanded me to lick her clitoris. She placed one of her hands on the back of my head to control my movements as I eased the tip of my tongue back between the folds of tender flesh and quickly found what I was searching for. I began to move my tongue up and down in a continual rhythm, wanting to tease her for as long as possible, hoping to keep her right on the edge of release. She knew what I was doing and liked it. Occasionally, when I veered off of the chosen path, her hand would direct me back to where I belonged. It wasn't long before she had another orgasm, this one more powerful than the first two. Her hand pressed against the back of my head, pushing me more deeply into the wet junction between her thighs. Before I was finished with sexually pleasing her, my face would be covered with her juices and the remains of Robert's semen.

Such is the life of a slave.

When our sexual escapade was over and Kimberly was getting ready to go home, she kissed me on the lips and then said: "You don't mind the addition of Robert to our relationship, do you?"

"No," I replied.

"You do understand that when Robert and I come over on Saturday, I going to expect clean sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"It'll be good for you to clean your apartment for us."

"How's that?" I asked.

"It will be a constant reminder of your status as my slave," Kimberly stated. "The purpose of a slave is to serve his Mistress in whatever way she demands. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes," I said.

"Who knows, maybe Robert and I will be waiting for you one Saturday when you get home. We'll let you watch as he dominates me and then has sex with me. Afterwards, I'll make you clean up after him while he watches. Is that something you would enjoy doing?"

"Maybe."

"We'll get together after work one night this week and drive down to the Tack & Saddlery Store on Industrial Road," she said. "I bet they have some nice riding crops in there."

"Okay," I said nervously.

Kimberly kissed me again and then said, "Don't worry, darling, I promise not to whip you too hard."

I smiled at that and then watched her leave, thinking about what I'd gotten myself into. Once again my little head had vetoed the objections of my rational head, resulting in actions that could very well lead to a shit load of trouble. I guess this was the nature of being a man. The penis was always taking control and stirring up situations that a normal-thinking person would never find himself in. How crazy could it get? Well, I was now the slave of a married woman who was also the slave of her ex-lover. This sounded like perfect material for the Jerry Springer Show.

Closing the door, I went to the refrigerator and got out the bottle of Asti. I poured myself a full glass and drank it down without a second thought. Hell, everything had its price. Plus, it was important to see the positive side of things. I'd wanted a sexual relationship with Kimberly and now had one. She was also willing to act out some of my fantasies by not only dominating me, but cuckolding me as well. I had to admit that if I was honest with myself, I was actually looking forward to next Saturday, wondering what she'd have in store for me.

I put the bottle of wine back into the refrigerator and then washed the two glasses. I was still too worked up to go to bed, so I grabbed the copy of Stephen King's newest novel, sat down on the couch, and read for an hour. By the time I was ready for bed, the need to masturbate had diminished somewhat and I was able to go to sleep, thinking of Kimberly's beautiful, stocking-covered legs wrapped around my head and the fact that I would now have to wash clothes on Friday night so that my Mistress and her Master would have clean sheets on the following day.

The End

© 2001 Christopher