My wife, Amelia had always wanted a plaything of her own. A little, submissive slave that she could love, to dote upon, to satisfy her every urges with.
The conversation finally came to a head one evening when we were sitting in the study, a quiet rainy night. Amelia was anxious about something, standing and pacing. Finally, she had stood and moved to the far window, peering outside.
"What's the matter, my love?" I had asked. She looked over her shoulder, her dark hair catching the low light from the desk lamp.
"You know what's the matter, Matthew," she said, her voice a soft but urgent whisper. "We've talked about it for years."
I leaned back in my leather chair, the cool creak of the leather a familiar comfort.
"Don't get me wrong." She said quickly. "I love you. I'm very satisfied with what we have, what we've built together." She was quiet, her eyes locked on something in the distance.
"But?" I prompted her. She always left a 'but' hanging in the air.
She turned to face me fully, her hands clasped in front of her, a rare display of uncertainty from her.
"But I want more. I want... her. A toy. For me to play with. For us to play with." Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.
Amelia sighed and moved over to our liquor cabinet. She poured a drink for herself and threw it back. The glass was set down with a soft click.
"I have been looking," she said, her back to me again. "I've been looking for a long, long time. And I think... I think I've found someone."
I watched her, my heart rate picking up. This wasn't just a fantasy anymore.
"Really?" I said. "What's she like?" The words came out calmer than I felt.
A slow smile spread across Amelia's face. "Her name is Kayla. She's... perfect." Amelia turned and walked towards me, her hips swaying with a newfound purpose. "She's young, just turned twenty-two. She's got these huge, doe-like brown eyes that just scream for praise. And she's small, delicate. The kind of girl you want to wrap up and keep safe."
I laughed. "It sounds like you're in love already."
She blushed, moving back to the desk near the window.
"I mean, I'm infatuated with the notion. And she's part of that.." She said, somewhat sheepishly. I waved a dismissive hand. We had an arrangement that would make most people's heads spin, but it worked for us. Amelia's needs and wants were my own. To see her so desperate for this had my own body stirring in response. I wanted it for her. For us.
"How did you you find her? Have you met her?" I asked.
"Not yet," she said. "I found her through our usual channels."
I knew what she meant. We had a pretty open sex-life. We knew, and participated, with quite a few swinging groups. We had our own private circle of close friends that we had... fun... with. But this was different. This was a permanent addition to our household. A permanent fixture for our pleasure.
"She's on the forums," Amelia continued, "looking for a permanent arrangement. She wrote a post about wanting to be completely taken care of. To be a good girl. She used that exact phrase." Amelia's eyes gleamed.
"Well, my love," I said, "Get me her contact information and I'll make the call."
Her smile was blindingly bright. "You'll do it?"
I rose from my chair and closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her flush against me. "Anything for you, my love. Absolutely anything." I kissed her, slow and deep. She melted into me, her hands tangling in my hair.
When she pulled back, her eyes were shining in the low light of the room. I loved this woman.
She turned and I held her, watching our reflection in the glass of the window. Amelia was gorgeous. I had married way out of my league. She was everything I could have ever wanted in a partner and so much more. Amelia had a dancer's build. Long legs that went on for days, a narrow waist, and perfectly proportioned curves that filled out a dress like it was made for her. Her breasts were a handful, high and firm, with the most sensitive nipples that would pebble at the slightest touch or whisper of praise.
My hands found the sides of her waist and I started to kiss at her neck. She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head to the side to give me better access. Her scent, a mix of vanilla and her own unique musk, filled my senses.
"Mmm," she hummed, a low, contented sound that vibrated through her chest and into mine. "You're distracting me."
"What work do you have?" I asked, still kissing her neck.
"I've got something pretty hard I have a job for." She said with a devilish grin in the reflection.
I chuckled, my hands sliding down to cup her rear, pulling her even tighter against me. "Oh? And what's that?"
She turned in my arms and looked up at me, her dark eyes sparkling. "I think you know."
Amelia moved to the floor on her knees, hands working at the front of my belt. She took me into her mouth. Her tongue was a warm, wet wonder, swirling around the tip, tracing the sensitive ridge, then taking me deeper. I watched her, my breath hitching in my throat. She was a vision. My wife. The woman I would do anything for. She moaned around my length, the vibrations sending a jolt straight up my spine.
"You're so good at that," I groaned, my fingers tangling in her hair. She looked up at me, her lips stretched around me, and winked. The sight was almost enough to undo me.
She pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to my tip. "I know," she said with a smirk. "I've had a lot of practice."
She took me back in, this time with a purpose. Her head bobbed, her rhythm steady and sure. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, the familiar, tightening coil of pleasure.
In the reflection of the window I could see Amelia had pulled her dress up, one hand plunged into her panties. Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of concentration as she worked at herself, her hips moving in small circles. The sight of her pleasuring herself while pleasuring me was intoxicating.
"Look at me," I commanded, my voice thick. Her eyes snapped open and she met my gaze in the glass. "Let me see you."
Her fingers moved faster, her moans growing louder around my cock. I could feel her tongue, hot and insistent, the roof of her mouth. I was so close. I could feel the familiar tightening in my stomach, the heat spreading through my veins.
"Stop," I said, my voice hoarse.
She froze, her eyes wide with surprise and a little disappointment.
"Stand up," I ordered.
She did as she was told, her lips glistening and swollen. I could see the flush on her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
"Turn around. Hands on the window."
A shiver of anticipation went through her. She turned, placing her palms flat against the cool glass. Her dress was still rucked up around her waist, the curve of her rear a perfect, inviting crescent. I stepped behind her, my hands gripping her hips. I entered her in one smooth, deep stroke.
She gasped, her forehead pressing against the glass. I started to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that I knew drove her wild. I reached around, my fingers finding the slick, swollen bud of her desire. I circled it gently, teasing her, matching the pace of my hips.
"Matthew," she breathed, my name a prayer on her lips.
I increased the pressure, my fingers moving faster. Her body tensed, her inner walls clenching around me. She was right there, teetering on the edge. I didn't give her a chance to breathe.
I keep working, thrusting from one end, my hand rubbing deep, concise circles between her legs. The softness of her ass as our hips collided. She felt incredible. I could feel her pleasure cresting, her body trembling beneath my hands. She was so wet, the sounds of our love-making filled the room.
"Let go for me, Amelia," I murmured against her ear. "Let me feel you."
Her cry was muffled by the glass as her orgasm crashed through her. Her body convulsed, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. The feeling of her coming undone around me was my undoing.
"I want it," she gasped, "My face." It was all she could say. I pulled out and she spun around. She knelt and tilted her head back, her mouth open, her tongue out. I stroked myself, the sight of her, debauched and beautiful, pushing me over the edge. I came with a groan, painting her face and tongue with my release. She closed her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.
I leaned against the desk, breathing heavily. Amelia stayed there for a moment, a masterpiece of my making. Then she opened her eyes and gave me a slow, satisfied smile. She used her fingers to scoop up the stray drops, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean. She took me into her mouth again, cleaning up every drop. The sight was possessive, primal, and it made me want her all over again.
When she was done, she rose to her feet, her movements fluid and graceful. She was a vision, her face still flushed from pleasure, a few glistening remnants on her cheek.
"Tomorrow," she said, her voice husky. "Tomorrow, I'll give you Kayla's contact information. I want you to call her."
I nodded, my eyes tracing the line of her jaw, the swell of her lips. "Consider it done."
She smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile that reached her eyes. "Good. Because I can't wait to break her in."