Seasons of Submission
Part One of Four - Spring 2001 - A letter from my wife
I met Rachel five years ago at a dinner dance for the legal firm where she worked. I wasn't in the legal profession, I was there merely as a 'plus one' for a woman I'd dated a couple of times in the previous week. There was no spark between us; I didn't really want to go but I'd said I would so I did.
Rachel was there with a group of her colleagues from the family law section of the firm. She seemed well respected; I could tell she held a senior position from the way other people showed her deference. I asked my date about her and she told me Rachel was a senior solicitor; I don't think my date was at all concerned that I was showing more interest in one of her colleagues than I was in her. By then, we both knew it had been a mistake for her to invite me to accompany her and for me to agree.
Rachel and I had caught each other's eye several times during the evening. Just before the event concluded, my date had gone off to talk to some of her colleagues; I was sitting alone at a table. Rachel was very attractive, I couldn't help looking at her; whenever she looked in my direction, I looked away; she must have known I was showing an interest. Eventually, she came over to my table; she was carrying a glass of wine and a clutch bag.
She moved seductively in high heels and a knee-length black dress, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She said I looked lonely sitting alone and asked if I wanted company. That was how we started; a week later, after dinner at a decent restaurant, we were in bed together in my small apartment. A year later, we were married and living in a three-bedroom semi-detached house in a suburb of the city where we both worked.
We both loved sex; who wouldn't love sex with a woman like my wife? As well as her mane of blonde hair, she has a very shapely figure, an attractive face and sparkling green eyes. She got these assets from her mother, more of whom later.
At thirty-five, my wife is a year older than me. We've been married for four years now and in that time she's become a junior partner at work so she is under a lot of pressure. I work as a planner for the local council, it's a responsible job but not as pressured as my wife's is; but this story really starts a year ago.
After our third year of marriage, the sex was still good but it had tailed off a little; it was usually me that initiated it; my wife did so very occasionally but she was often asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. We spoke about it, she said she still had the desire but, often, didn't have the energy.
I must confess I was worried that we might never get back to the levels of sexual activity and satisfaction that we used to enjoy; she used to love my fantasies and our occasional telephone sex if ever we were apart for a few days. I told her to stop apologising for not having the energy for regular sex; it was beginning to make me feel guilty that I was putting too much pressure on her.
I was usually home from work before her but sometimes I had to work late. One day when I arrived she was in the kitchen making our tea. She greeted me with the usual affectionate kiss; I went into the lounge to sit and drink the glass of wine that she'd handed to me when I spotted an intriguing headline in her women's lifestyle magazine. The magazine was lying open on the coffee table in front of me so I started to read the article. It was a report on a survey that found that two-thirds of women had fantasies about sexual submission. It went on to say that just over half of women said that bondage fantasies got them going; just over a third fantasised about being spanked or disciplined in some way.
I had to read it twice to take it all in; as I read it a second time, my cock began to swell. It was a revelation; even allowing for the fact that half of the women surveyed, whose favourite fantasies involved submission, said they wouldn't want to act them out, that still left a third of women with seriously hot thoughts about being sexually dominated.
My wife came into the lounge to tell me that tea was ready. She saw me looking at the magazine and snatched it up quickly saying she needed to tear out an article on makeup before she threw the magazine away. It was nonsense; she looked embarrassed so I didn't pursue it.
A few days later my wife drove me to the railway station to catch a train to a four-day residential course for planning officers. We'd had sex the night before; we always did if either of us were going to be away on a course for any length of time. She particularly liked me to fantasise about close encounters with attractive fellow attendees at these events; she loved the thought of being in sexually charged situations, extracting herself or myself at the last moment and then going back to our room and masturbating to relieve the sexual frustration.
I watched her getting dressed in her office attire; her tight, pin-striped skirt suit never failed to turn me on. The way that her skirts clung tightly to her shapely buttocks and strained taut across her thighs leaving the material puckered between them always had my penis pulsing with pleasure. Sadly, on this occasion, there were no stockings; I asked her to wear them with a tight skirt when she picked me up from the station on Friday afternoon; she agreed readily; we always tore each other's clothes off once we got home after a week-long separation.
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It was a beautiful April morning with birds singing, a blue sky and fresh green leaves on the trees. As she drove me to the station, my cock swelled at the sight of her knees and thighs as she worked the foot pedals; her skirt rode up; I never tired of looking at her legs in high heels and a tight skirt.
When she dropped me off, she caught me by the arm as I opened the door to get out of the car.
"I've something to tell you and something to ask of you but I'm too embarrassed to do it in person so I've written it all down."
She handed me an envelope and asked me not to open it yet.
"Please wait until you're alone somewhere; we can talk about it when you ring me this evening,..or not if you prefer."
I looked surprised, "Don't worry," she said, "It's nothing drastic but it's become important to me and who I want to be. I hope it doesn't shock you or make you think that I'm depraved in any way, please bin it if you don't like it and we'll never speak of it again."
I was intrigued; my cock twitched at the word 'depraved.'
The train was busy so I decided to read my wife's note later when I'd be alone. Together with a couple of other course members I was taken in a minibus on the final leg of the journey to the college. It wasn't until I had some privacy in my room that I opened the envelope. I decided I would read the note and then go for a stroll in the grounds to stretch my legs after sitting still for several hours. Later on, I'd change for dinner and give my wife a ring before going to the bar to meet the other delegates.
I sat on the bed feeling a mixture of anxiety and curiosity as I opened the letter; it was a revelation; it shocked me and aroused me in equal measure:
"Darling,
I'm sorry I haven't been so attentive and ready for sex in recent months. We've talked about pressures at work and me feeling tired so there's no need for me to rehearse all of that again. I love our sex life as I know you do and I've been doing a bit of reading about how to get things back on track.
I've concluded that I have a response rather than a proactive desire. What this means is that I'm unlikely to initiate sex at the moment. I'm much more likely to respond to your demand for sex if you take control and have me whenever you feel the urge. It means that I will be available to you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; 'sex on demand' for want of a better phrase.
Whenever we've experimented with a little mild bondage in the past, I've been hugely gratified. I'm not sure why but I find that my body responds to having sex in this way. It makes me come alive and I feel great for hours afterwards. I think it's the pleasure of being wanted; it's a primal desire.
In my work life, I'm powerful and independent, not many people say no to me. So the thought of submitting to your control, not just in the bedroom but in all aspects of my home life, turns me on immensely. You don't have to tie me up; all you have to do is take me whenever you feel like it, never ask me, just take me. My goodness, I'm getting wet now as I write this to you.
From now on you're the boss; nothing is off limits, you can do what you want to me, you can fantasise about whatever you want. I will obey you because I trust you.
I submit to you completely.
I hope you understand my needs.
All of my love
Rachel x"
I put the letter down next to me on the bed; my mind was in a whirl. I picked it up and read it again; this time my cock swelled and set hard as I took in the erotic consequences of my wife's words.
I unbuttoned my fly and reached inside my underpants, pulling my erect cock free; it was big and hard; bursting with lustful sensations; I removed my T-shirt; in less than two minutes, my reply to my wife's letter was coating my chest and abdomen. I wanted to phone her straight away; to tell her about the effect she'd had on me but she wouldn't be home from work for several hours yet. Anyway, if I was going to dominate her from now on, I needed to play it cool. I imagined her sitting in her office in her pencil skirt and high heels, looking fuckable as she always did, holding the end of her pen against her full red lips, something she did unconsciously; it always turned me on.
She would be nervous about my reaction to her desire for me to dominate her. I felt the urge to put her mind at rest when I spoke to her later on but I'd bought into her plan hook, line and sinker so I prepared myself to adopt an assertive, masterful tone with her on the phone.
The college was in a lovely setting; I strolled around the grounds. My mind was full of my wife's letter and all of the things I've ever wanted to make her do in my fantasies: masturbate for me, wear stockings for me, open her legs on demand, dress according to my instructions, use sex toys whenever I told her to, even go to bed with other women, or at least fantasise about it.
