My Open Relationship Ch. 02


The Phoenix Rises.

“Go and have a shower and make yourself presentable again, you sexy little tart. I take it you’ve got some make-up here.” He says, softly, with a hand under my T-shirt, gently caressing my breasts. Then, nuzzling my neck and ear, breathes “And, what did I tell you about shoes, my sweet?” I notice his cock starting to twitch and jerk and, quite amazingly, after such a long night of marathon sex, I feel myself beginning to grow moist again. “I never want to see you looking anything but your best or without high heels on again. You will, at all times, be impeccably presented and wearing high heels in my presence or you can fuck off right now.”

He’s speaking softly, but there’s no mistaking the tone of authority in his tone, but I take heart from it. It sounds as if he’s accepted my declaration that I’m moving in with him. With all the men who’ve fucked me since I left my last husband, I’ve been used to being in control, cracking the whip, so to speak, their lust subjugating them to my will. This is a new experience for me, being subjected to the will of a man who seems not to care whether I stay or go. And, I very much want to stay. After what I experienced the previous evening, I have no intention of letting him get away. I want more of that!

My lust for sex has been rekindled. “Sorry.” I murmur, apologetically.

“And never apologise to me. If you fuck up, you fix up. Don’t waste the effort apologising. Now get your little ass out of here and get back looking sexy, just in high heels and make-up, nothing else!” he says, in a lighter tone, patting me on the arse and sending me on my way.

“Yes, sir!” I giggle, getting to my feet and throwing a mock salute.

“I’ll have coffee and champagne waiting, when you get back. Hurry!” He calls after me as I disappear inside again.

Thankfully, I do have an emergency make-up repair kit in my handbag, from habit rather than with having had any intention of needing it when I came here. When I join him, now groomed, naked and preening in my heels again there’s a mug of coffee and a bottle of champagne on ice waiting for me. He’s sucking on another beer.

“Come sit here on my lap again, honey. You look lovely. Thank you.” I literally flush, like a little girl, at his compliment. I’m like a starving beggar being tossed a crust of dry bread. I go and sit on his knee and he kisses each of my nipples, in turn, giving them a gentle suck that makes them jump to attention immediately while his hand dips in between thighs and his fingers caress my pussy and rub my clit softly. Shivers of lust course through me, making me tremble. I reach down and my fingers encircle his shaft. It bucks and jumps in my grip. A long, soft sigh escapes my lips.

“You’re a horny little slut, aren’t you?” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath adding to my fast escalating arousal.

“Yes, please come fuck me again!” I pant, breathlessly, unbelievably already wanting him to again.

“No!” he chuckles, much to my frustration ceasing his attentions to me and sitting back. “Drink your coffee. We need to talk. What did you say before you went to shower?”

“I said, I’m moving in with you.” I remind him, hopefully, the look in my eyes making it a question rather than a statement.

“No, you’re not.” He says with finality.

“Pleeaasseee?” I beg him “Pretty please?” pouting and making a baby hatay escort face.

“Okay. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but let’s discuss it. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

He asks me what I’m bringing to the party if I move in with him. I don’t quite understand and he explains. What am I going to contribute to the relationship? I’m thinking in material terms. He explains that that’s not what he means. I tell him, whatever he wants me to. I’m enslaved and will do anything he wants me to. He says, okay, he’ll tell me what he wants then I can decide if I still see chance to share my life with him. I sip my coffee and he pours a glass of champagne for me before he starts.

I finish my coffee and sip champagne while he reels off his wants, point for point. Firstly, he tells me, he doesn’t want a fucking housekeeper. He has a maid that comes in whenever he needs her. My sole duty, if I move in with him, will be to inspire, initiate and provide sex.

I interrupt him and tell him, of course I can do that and it’ll be an absolute pleasure. He tells me to shush and hear him out. He continues telling me that I must understand that my whole being must be continuously focussed on sex. I have no other obligation in the relationship.

I will at all times wear high heels, except in the bath or shower and when I’m actually sleeping. Being in bed doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping, he quips. There we go with the high heels again! He obviously has a fetish for high heels, but that okay, I like them too. I will always be exquisitely groomed and wear my nails long. My nails are already quite long, but he wants them longer. I’m okay with that as well. The heels I’m wearing are four inches high, but he says they’re not high enough!

“If you accept my terms and move in with me, we’ll go get you some decent, shoes with higher heels and some revealing outfits too. It’s no good having the goods and not showing them!” he informs me. Good luck with the shoes, I think to myself. I’m only a size 3 and have enough trouble finding shoes as it is, but that’s also okay with me because I too have a preference for high heels.

“I accept!” I exclaim, gleefully, kissing him on the mouth and hugging him, “When can I move in?”

“Anytime, tomorrow if you like.”


“Okay, let’s get started then. I don’t enjoy flossing while I’m eating. It’s extremely bad manners.” I’m lost as to what he’s referring to, then he says “Come let’s go and shave your pussy?” Goodness, as it is, I hardly have any pubic hair, just a few wispy blond strands. We go inside and I lie down on the bed with a towel under my bum while he gets a bowl of hot water, his razor and shaving foam. He shaves my crotch, gently teasing me while his doing it, tracing a path between my labia with a fingertip and occasionally tickling my clitoris, coaxing it out of its hood. Ah, you bastard, I sigh, enjoying every moment. When he’s finished he kisses me there and then sucks my clit, stretching it to max. And, well, we just couldn’t resist, could we? He fucks me again, with absolute aplomb and finesse making me scream with delight. He also cums again.

Afterwards I tell him to go outside and wait for me, I’ll be along in a moment.

“Right, now that we’ve taken the edge off your insatiable horniness we can really celebrate our new arrangement and get drunk and stoned.” He teases me.

“My horniness!” I exclaim, exasperatedly as he departs. I quickly check my make-up, paint my lips again and go and join him, still naked, just in my heels. I’m learning quickly!

We’re somewhat relaxed again after the stress-relieving sex as we drink, chat, kiss and fondle with me sitting on his lap, having a merry old time. I have my introduction to marijuana when he lights a joint which we share.

“Wow! This shit is magic.” I giggle when the high starts hitting me. I’m all a-tingle again. My nipples and clit feel as if there are bugs crawling all over them. “I want to fuck again!” I start tugging on his now again hard cock. Just then a female voice calls from the gate which is obviously locked. Pete says it sounds like a friend of his, Rupert’s, girlfriend. “I wonder what she wants?” he muses as he pushes me off his lap

He calls back telling them to wait, he’ll open up in a minute and to me “I better go and put on a pair of shorts.” When I want to follow him and also put something on he stops me. “No, you live here now. This is your home and if I want you to walk around naked or if you feel like being naked, you damn well will. It has fuck all to do with anyone else. Stay just as you are, hopefully she’ll fuck off quickly. Rupert’s probably done one of his disappearing tricks again and she’s looking for him. The poor deluded bitch thinks she has a claim to him. He’s a real fucking rogue and only fucks her because she’s so available.”

I’m high and a little drunk, filled with bravado. I decide, what the hell, why not? What does the bitch want here anyway, is she making a play for my man? Fuck her! The marijuana is making me a little paranoid now, but being my first experience of it, I don’t realise that it can have that effect. Pete emerges from the house in a pair of shorts, heading for the gate. Just like that my mood changes. I burst into a fit of giggling at the sight of his huge hard-on tenting his shorts so obviously.

He appears with two women in tow, both huge, one young and the other a gruesome, older hag. I’m still giggling uncontrollably and then I recognise the younger one, despite her being twice the size of when I last saw her. I used to teach her Sunday school in a previous life! [Don’t laugh now. You’ll understand when you read the chapter dealing with my history.] She gapes when she recognises me and stammers, “Hello, auntie Micki.” Micki’s what everyone called me back then. The look of shock on her face is priceless.

“Oh, hi Jeanette,” I manage to get out “as you can see I’m not in Sunday school now!” I giggle, gesturing to my nudity with a casual wave of my hand and burst out laughing helplessly. When I calm down I just can’t help adding “I’m devoting myself to The Three Kings now, you know, drinking, smoking and fucking!” That sends me off into peals of laughter again. I see my man laughing too.

“She’s a bit stoned. We shared a joint.” He explains, chuckling “sit down and have a beer.” he invites them.

I want to make a point. I get up and reach for my cigarettes on the table, letting them get a good look and my ravaged and swollen genitals before sitting down again and slowly crossing my legs, giving them another good view of my pouting and weeping, cleanly shaven pussy. I can see disgust written all over the older hag’s face and something between disbelief and disapproval on Jeanette’s. I can’t believe what I’m doing, but who cares? I don’t. Not at that moment, anyway. I am now a submissive sex slave and proud of it.

Jeanette wants to know if he knows where her boyfriend is. How the fuck should he know, he tells her rudely, in an attempt to encourage them to go and leave us alone, I suspect. They finish their beers and leave. Pete informs me that Rupert’s a medical doctor and shoots himself up with cocktails of drugs he purloins from the hospital where he works and drinks like a fish. Little did I realise then that this chance encounter was going to have significant repercussions, in the future.

We do, indeed, devote ourselves to The Three Kings for the rest of the day and most of the night. The sex is as amazing, if not better than the previous evening, more relaxed and intimate. The following morning he drops me off at my flat, on his way to work. I start packing and then it’s off to the beauty salon to have my nails done. That evening I take my clothes to his place and he shows me into the spare room. I’m a little disappointed and feel as if I’m being shunted aside. He tells me not to be, that I will, of course, always sleep in his bed and just to use this room as my dressing room.

The next day my furniture, that which we have no use for, gets put in storage and I am now officially ensconced in his home. In the afternoon we visit a little boutique belonging to an Indian fella. I don’t know about it as it’s rather hidden away in a narrow alley. There is everything one might desire for sexual inspiration; lingerie, shoes, dresses, costume jewellery, you name it! When we walk out of there I have six pairs of new shoes all with 6 inch and higher heels, an armload of skimpy dresses and other outfits I would never have dared to wear before. He won’t take no for an answer when I object to something, saying it’s too preposterous for a women of my age to dress in such a fashion. There are also some personal accessories like clit and nipple clamps, a couple of vibrators and some ornate costume jewellery.

Like The Phoenix arising from the ashes my reincarnation is complete. Teeter around the house, either in some skimpy outfit or naked in my exquisite new high heels. Of course I do perform menial household tasks. Like making our bed, washing the dishes and a bit of dusting. The maid comes in once a week to do a thorough cleaning and the washing and ironing.

He fucks me every morning and evening, without fail. In the morning he wakes me up, at five, with foreplay, then we fuck for about an hour before he gets out of bed. I go back to sleep and he gets ready and goes off to the office. Then, in the evenings, we have a few drinks while making supper, fucking casually on the kitchen cupboards and counter in between. After supper it’s off to bed for serious sex. My days are devoted to my sexual education, reading books like The Art Of Erotic Massage, Kama Sutra and such to keep me focussed on sex.

Weekends, he takes me out in my skimpy outfits, parading my provocatively displayed wares in public for all to lust after, placing me on a pedestal to encourage men to flirt with me. It’s intimidating, frustrating, inspiring and everything in between. I’m always as horny as all hell.

I would never have recognised myself a short while ago. I am not a new person, I am another person, an infinitely horny and provocative slut who can’t get enough of her lover’s cock and enjoys cockteasing strange men.

And, that’s dangerous . . .