Believe it or not, I was a virgin until my honeymoon. The first time was uncomfortable. I complained, and he didn't touch me for a couple of days. We enjoyed our trip, but I started feeling sensations of desire between my legs. I became bitchy, which pushed him away again. I was horny, but I didn't know it at the time.

The night before we came home, he took me roughly. He forced me, and I loved it. I was afraid to tell him how much I enjoyed his taking me, so he didn't know. As he fell asleep, I was afraid to touch him.

Once we got home, he was busy with work. I was busy with keeping the house in top shape. We would watch TV until bedtime. Once in bed, he fell asleep quickly. I wanted to feel his dick in me, but I was too shy to touch it. On the weekends, he would take me roughly. I lived for those moments. I still didn't tell him. I didn't dress sexy for him, usually just a short tee shirt that barely covered my ass.

He hired a man to do some painting around the house on the weekends. The man was beautiful. He usually worked bare-chested in shorts. I could smell his sweat, and it caused me to get wet between my legs. I started to fantasize about him forcing me to have sex. My husband must have noticed how wet I was when he took me Saturday night.

The next weekend, my husband took me on Friday night. He had a Saturday dentist appointment, so he must have thought that he wouldn't feel like sex on Saturday night. I didn't think that the painter would come in his absence. I slept in, and then I left the bedroom freshly fucked in my short t-shirt with my ass cheeks showing. I had bent over to get some coffee from the cupboard when the painter came into the kitchen.

"Is that an invitation?" he said. He startled me. I said, "No!" and started to leave. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. He held me with one hand and reached between my legs with his other hand to feel my wet pussy. "This feels like an invitation," he said. I just froze in his forceful hands, just like I always did when my husband took me before. I assumed I was about to get fucked by the stranger, and I was enjoying his fingers inside me. I was actually looking forward to getting raped by the painter.

I must have had the look of pleasure on my face when my husband came in the kitchen. He grabbed the painter and slugged him. "You're fired," he roared. The painter got up slowly; then he stopped. "What about my pay?" the painter asked. My husband replied, "Get your stuff and get out or I'll call the police!" The painter left the house quickly.

After the painter left, my husband turned to me. I was hoping that he would take me in his arms to comfort me, but instead he glared at me. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself." I shook me head no, but it did not soften his look. "I didn't think that you even liked sex." I admitted that I liked it a lot. "Get yourself cleaned up and dressed," he ordered. I heard the front door slam as I was getting dressed. I watched his car drive away. I didn't know if he would ever come back.

A few hours later, he returned. He smelled of beer. He asked me if I wanted a divorce. I shook my head no. I started pleading with him to forgive me. I said that I had forgotten that the painter was coming. He seemed skeptical about that detail. He asked if I would do anything to repair our marriage. I said that I would do anything. He asked if I really meant that would do anything.

"Then take your clothes off," he said. At first, I didn't believe him. But the look on his face told me that he was dead serious. I stripped slowly, then stood before him naked. I didn't dare try to cover myself up. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back," he ordered. I complied. I felt something cold on my wrists and heard two series of small clicks. "Turn around and face me whore." I turned around. I found that my hands had been cuffed behind my back. He was holding a chrome metal ring and a chain leash. He fastened the ring (a collar) around my neck and attached the leash to it.

He led me up the stairs to our bedroom. I was afraid to say anything. He led me to the edge of our bed. "Spread your legs whore," came my master's orders. I complied. "Now bend over." I did that too. I heard him undressing. Then his hard dick penetrated my juicing pussy. "Do you like getting fucked like a whore?' he asked. "Yes sir!" I replied. "Then thank me," he said. "Thank you for fucking me like a whore sir, I love it!" came out of my mouth as I was wondering: where did that come from? "Call me master and keep begging me to fuck you." I did what he requested. It felt strangely exciting and my pussy was very happy.

I think that we both orgasmed at the same time. I felt weak in the knees as he put me on my knees. I saw a dick in front of me. "Clean me up whore." Prior to that day, I had never touched a dick with my hand. Now I had to lick him clean and accept his dick in my mouth. I tasted my own juices and his cum for the first time, but after the amazing sex he had just given me, I eagerly cleaned him. Then he pulled me up and took me in the shower. He lovingly washed me while i was still collared and cuffed. After he carefully dried me, he cuddled me on the bed. I was so happy that I could almost purr in his arms.

Now I am collared and cuffed every night and all weekend. I greet him at the door naked and collared when he gets home from work. I have also learned to cuff myself behind my back for him. As soon as I see him pull up ourside, I click the cuffs on. I don't get fucked like a whore every night, but I get fucked quite often. I have learned to suck his dick and swallow his cum. I also have learned to like anal sex. He does allow me time inbetween anal sex sessions to recover. I love my master and I love my life.