He pulled into the garage, the memory of another failed blind date fading fast. She was nice, too nice, and he’d been looking for a diplomatic way out after the first hour. He thought of his dearly departed wife, but time had all but eliminated the ‘Why did you leave me?’ question, replaced by the thought that she was in a better place, considering her year-long suffering before she died.

He stepped outside to enjoy the breeze under a full moon and thought he heard several staccato screams coming from the house next door, but they faded in volume and stopped after only a few. Their open garage and the second car told him that his neighbor, Tom, was home again from his weekly business travel. He dismissed it as his imagination running wild.

A week or so later, he was sitting outside reading a book when a different sort of scream came from next door. He put his book down and stood up, ready to act, when Megan appeared in one of the upstairs windows.

“Joel! Help! The washing machine is gushing water, and I can’t stop it!”

He ran to the front of the house to the main water shutoff. Their homes were identical mirror images of each other; he knew exactly where it was and closed the valve. Returning to the driveway and into the always-open garage, he went inside and headed upstairs as she was coming down.

“It stopped!” she said as though it were some sort of miracle. Halfway down, she noticed the stunned look on his face.

The crisis averted, she suddenly remembered how she was dressed, or rather, undressed. It was probably only a couple of seconds, but he couldn’t help staring at this beautiful woman, who’d attracted his attention before, now in just her revealing, arousing underwear.

“It … it just stopped,” she repeated, drawing his attention to her face.

“Yeah, I, uh, I shut the main off. What happened?” he asked as he climbed the stairs, transfixed by her perfect, little bottom at eye level as they climbed the stairs.

“I had just started the washing machine, and the … the knob just popped off, and water started gushing out!”

In the upstairs laundry room, he saw what had happened. He turned to tell her, only to notice the collar around her neck. Again, he stared, this time at the black leather collar with a small brass padlock on the side. Noticing her embarrassment, he looked into her eyes instead.

“The valve popped off. It was probably loose for a long time and just chose to come off now. I can fix it, but I’ll need to get a part.”

“Really? Thank you, Joel! I appreciate it!”

Less than an hour later, he returned to the laundry room alone. He was surprised when she entered still in the incredibly hot underwear and collar. He began work as though he hadn’t noticed, pleasantly surprised that she hung around to watch.

The valve replaced, he turned the water back on, and returned to the laundry room where she waited. He turned the knob with the flourish of a magician showing off. He sucked up the water that had flooded the room and adjacent hallway with his shop vac and, finishing that proclaimed the problem solved.

“Thank you so much!” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome. You look, um … really hot, Megan, but I’m surprised you didn’t cover up when I went to the store.”

“I’m not allowed,” she said, looking him in the eye. Seeing his confusion, she added, “When I have my collar on, I’m not allowed to wear anything but my bra and panties. It’s one of Tom’s rules.”

“So, Tom will be back tonight to take it off?”

“No, he won’t be home all week.”

“Oh. Okay,” he replied as though understanding, which, of course, he didn’t, but wasn’t going to probe into something so private.

He left and returned home but couldn’t shake the image of her gorgeous body or the story about the collar. He was suspicious of the story behind it, but with nothing else to go on, it was just speculation. The memory of the screams he’d heard the other night returned as another piece of the puzzle whose complete picture illuded him.

Megan watched him walk from her garage to his and only closed the door when she couldn’t see him anymore. She wasn’t embarrassed telling him about the collar and almost wished he’d been more curious about it. She’d liked him since they first met when they moved in months earlier. With so much time alone, the thought of cheating had occurred to her, but she quickly dismissed the idea, more than a little afraid of what Tom would do if discovered.

Lately, she was often ‘more than a little afraid’ of Tom. What had started as playful punishment had escalated beyond what she’d ever imagined partaking in. She was into it, including the earlier changes like the rules she had to follow or else. The problem was that the ‘or else’ had gotten much more severe. Today, her underwear hid the marks from the punishments he dished out. She was still sore in many ways, but not in a way that revealed the more sinister side of Tom’s rules to Joel.

Those thoughts were replaced by worrying how Tom would react to Joel seeing her as he did. After all, she had no time to cover up, even if she was willing to take her punishment for doing so. Caught in a ‘damned if I do, damned if I don’t’ situation, she decided not to tell him about it, well aware that if she added lying to her ‘crime,’ it would be worse.

Tom returned on Friday as usual and hugged his wife affectionately once inside. Nude, as she was supposed to greet him, she melted in his arms, desperate for his touch after spending the week half-naked and in a state of semi-arousal. She loved the feeling of his strong hands rediscovering her body each week.

It always started as a ‘welcome home’ hug, but his hands soon traveled down her spine to take hold of her tight little ass, pulling her against his body as he kissed her neck and shoulders. With a familiar move, she’d turn around, and with her back against him, he’d start softly but firmly squeezing her modest tits, her nipples pinched hard before he moved on.

Her breathing was long and deep when his hands slid down her body, quivering inside with anticipation. Avoiding her aching pussy, he pulled her thighs apart, forcing her to change her stance. She gasped as his probing fingers checked to see that she’d shaved just before he arrived in compliance with another rule.

Moaning loudly when his fingers finally slipped between her smooth, wet lips, teasing her nub and threatening to enter her, she wanted him inside her right there and then. He knew but denied her, and, cupping her mound, he pulled her tight against him again, this time making her feel the bulge in his pants against her ass. Moving her hips to grind against his erection, she started panting as one thick, meaty finger plunged inside her while another rubbed her clit mercilessly.

‘Please don’t stop,’ she said to herself, knowing that he almost certainly would. She could feel the wave approaching, and just as she steeled herself for the climax, he stopped.

“Let’s go get some dinner,” he said casually, leaving her still panting and gasping with weak knees and a hand on the back of a chair to keep her from collapsing to the floor.

Their dinner conversation followed typical topics about their week. The lie of omission made her nervous when she claimed to have been ‘a good girl,’ remembering Joel’s appreciative look at her. If discovered, it would involve a trip to the basement, where almost anything could happen.

“Tom, I have to go see my mother. She’s having a procedure and could use some help afterward,” she said, worried how he’d take it.

“When?” he asked, showing no objection.

“Week after next.”

“Okay. I can’t go. You’ll drive yourself?” he asked and, getting a nod, added, “Do you need any help preparing or getting off okay?”

It was unlike him to be so agreeable. Usually, he’d exact some form of payment, which she would usually enjoy, painful though it may be.

After a relaxing glass of wine at home, he told her she’d been a naughty girl asking to leave him for a week, ignoring the irony of his weekly absence. In their bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers and she to her panties. He sat on the end of the bed and patted his thigh, the instruction clear.

It was a delicious spanking with just enough pain, even though he finished with the hairbrush. He’d renew the sting with additional squeezes and spanks as they fucked in a variety of positions. Her favorite had her coming with a scream as she rode him reverse cowgirl style while he spanked her again.

They fell asleep with her still feeling she’d dodged a bullet and hoping there wasn’t another in the chamber of the gun she imagined pointed at her.

They woke late on Saturday, rising even later due to some fantastic morning sex. He’d even licked her pussy, something he didn’t like doing, feeling that it was demeaning and unbefitting a dominant male.

It was early afternoon when he unpacked and brought his clothes to the laundry room. He dumped them on the two machines and looked at the wall, noticing something different.

“Megan, come here a minute!” he called loudly.

“You don’t have to shout, Tom,” she said, appearing almost instantly, having just come up the stairs.

“Wasn’t that knob blue?” he asked, pointing to the valve that Joel had replaced with one that had a red knob.

“Oh, um,” she stammered and, unable to come up with any excuse, opted for honesty, though she’d try to avoid telling the whole story. “Yeah, um, it had to be replaced. When I started the washer the other day, it came off and was gushing water, so it needed to be replaced.”

She was shaking inside, afraid he’d eventually figure it out and worm a confession out of her. The sweet memory of last night was replaced by fear of what tonight would bring.

“How did you get it fixed so fast without more damage? Who replaced it?” he asked, and she knew he’d get the whole story from her.

“I screamed when the water started gushing, and I remembered seeing Joel in his backyard, so I called to him from the window, and he came over and turned the water main off and went to the store to get a new one, replaced the valve, and soaked up all the water with his shop-vac,” she admitted in one long non-stop sentence.

“That’s good,” he said disarmingly, “You put a robe on before he came over?”

“There wasn’t time, Tom! The water was gushing everywhere!”

“Okay, but you covered up once he stopped the water?”

“Um, yeah. No,” she corrected, knowing she was a terrible liar.

“Which is it, Megan?”

“I didn’t. I’m not supposed to wear anything else!”

“So you just hung around in your underwear and collar while he fixed it?”

“Yes, sir,” she admitted with a mixture of fear and anticipation, knowing what he would say next.

“We’ll take care of this tonight.”

He never punished her on the spot, choosing to let the anxiety and fear build for the balance of the day. Mildly comforted by the fact that the day was more than half over, she knew that when the sun went down, he’d take her to the basement, where no one could see or hear his retribution.

As the afternoon passed with domestic simplicity, she couldn’t shake the worry of what he would do. There was a time when she looked forward to being spanked, paddled, strapped, and fucked in all sorts of ways to emphasize her submission to his will. She still looked forward to it, even today, but she was afraid of what the latest escalation would be.

She was expected to meet him at the top of the stairs, wearing only her collar. Holding her by the wrist, they descended the stairs. She’d started getting wet when the collar went on, and by the time they were at the dungeon door, she could almost hear her wet, squishy lips as she walked.

Inside, he took his seat and made her tell him why she was being punished, including asking for it.

“I’m sorry I disobeyed your rules, sir. Please punish me,” she said, knowing that once it started, she’d allow it to continue regardless of where it led.

He started spanking her with his hand, but it wasn’t the warmup she’d hoped for. He spanked hard and fast, providing no pleasure with her pain. He switched to the hairbrush with a ferocity that bruised her pert bottom.

Crying, apologizing, and begging for mercy, she accepted her fate, her mind moving slowly toward that place where the pain was tolerable.

Before it was over, she was strapped to the spanking bench for a dose of every paddle they owned while he edged her constantly. Next, and feared most, was the cross. She was whipped first with a tawse on her bottom and then the two-inch strap across her back and thighs as well, leaving her gasping and screaming until he finally stopped.

She knew there was likely to be more pain, but for the moment, she looked forward to the more arousing elements of her submission. First, she had to express her gratitude, and as soon as she was released, she moved slowly, gingerly, kneeling before him to swallow his cock and its produce.

It was all about his pleasure, and she gave, but resentment was building. She felt taken advantage of, so she just went through the motions, even faking her pleasure. She usually enjoyed taking him anally, especially when he’d move to cum in her pussy, but only at the very end did he begrudgingly fuck her. And that’s all it was. He didn’t make love to her, give himself to her, or reward her; he fucked her – hard – lasting just barely long enough for her measly orgasm.

Whether he sensed her resentment or just wanted her to remember this was a punishment, he had over his knee for another spanking, Megan gritting her teeth and taking it without giving him the satisfaction of showing it hurt.

Running from the dungeon, she went upstairs to their guest room, locked the door, fell on the bed, and cried. She’d made an honest mistake regarding one of his stupid, impossible rules, and he punished her far more severely than was warranted.

They hardly spoke the following day, and she faked nausea in the late afternoon to avoid his expectation of Sunday night sex. She now looked forward to the week she’d be away with her mother. She had a lot of thinking to do. To avoid a scene, she didn’t resist when he put a different collar on her and left early Monday morning as usual.

Joel was working in his garage with the door open for fresh air. Megan’s door was also open as usual, and the presence of only one car told him she was again home alone. He heard a door open and close and looked to see her dragging a suitcase to the back of her car. He could see she was wearing her collar again, but more modest underwear. While bending over to situate her bag, he noticed the fading red marks on the back of her thighs. She stood to close the hatch, revealing similar marks on her back. He felt terrible for her and wished he could do something.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out to him after hearing the sound of his hammer.

“Oh! Hi, Megan!” he said, acting as though he’d just noticed her presence but felt guilty about it. “Are you okay?” he asked with sincere concern as he stepped out of his garage.

“Yeah. I’m … I’m okay,” she said without conviction and started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he approached her inside her garage. She said nothing but fell into his arms, just wanting someone to hold her. She remained silent, but his soothing hug helped her calm herself. She pulled away, giving him a sad smile.

“Megan, I saw the …” he started, unsure if he should continue. “I saw the marks,” he finished, triggering another crying jag, and took her in his arms again. “Did he do this to you? Tom?” he asked, and she nodded with her head on his shoulder. “Why would he hurt you like that!” he added, getting angry.

She decided someone else should know about it, and Joel was so kind and caring that he seemed the perfect candidate.

“I broke one of his rules,” she said, pulling away but still standing close. “I shouldn’t have let you see me in my … you know, the other day?”

“Oh, Megan! I’m so sorry! You should have …” he began but realized she didn’t need someone else telling her what she did wrong. “You couldn’t help it!”

“I know, but …” she started, but turned around instead and lowered her big white panties for him to see her bruised bottom.

“Oh my God! How could he do that!? You poor thing! You must have been screaming! If I’d heard you, I would have come …” he started, but he had to admit he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

“Come with me,” she said, leading him into the basement. Retrieving the hidden key, she opened the door to the dungeon and led him inside. “It’s a room within a room. You couldn’t have heard,” she said, reacting to his stunned look.

With dark lavender walls, a black ceiling, and a white tile floor, the room seemed to have everything you’d need to carry on a BDSM lifestyle. The spanking bench, St. Andrews cross, and sex swing were the big things he noticed first. There was also a sturdy wooden chair in a conspicuous location, a rack loaded with paddles, whips, and straps, and even dark, foreboding art befitting the room’s character.

“Wow. I’ve heard of rooms like this but never seen one,” he said, barely masking his intrigue.

“There was a time when I enjoyed all this, but I don’t know anymore.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but if you need help in any way, you need only ask,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

“Thank you, Joel,” she replied. “I’m going away to help my mother for a week or so next week. I’m leaving Friday before he gets home,” she said as they walked back upstairs.

He again offered his help with anything while she was gone. She thanked him and kissed him on the cheek, and he walked away with mixed emotions.

With only anger for Tom, he wondered, ‘How could he treat her like that?’ He felt he understood the BDSM lifestyle, and one of its tenets was making your sub feel safe and loved despite the pain and physical abuse. He was clearly failing on that point.

On the one hand, he hoped she could work it out with him for the sake of their marriage and get back to what she liked about that life. For her, that would be the best outcome. But on the other hand, he found himself attracted to her. He had been from the moment they met when they’d moved in and introduced themselves, but she was married, which meant she was strictly off-limits. He remembered that he hadn’t thought much of Tom that first time, and that opinion hadn’t improved.

She left a note saying her mother asked her to come earlier and she’d left that morning. It wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to be with him again on Friday when he returned, so she made up an excuse to leave a day early. She signed the note with just her name and no affectionate closing. When they spoke, he was still oddly agreeable to the whole thing with the typical male reaction to her mother’s ‘female problem.’

Joel thought of her often while she was away. He truly hoped she was finding a way forward, realizing he didn’t know enough about her situation or how she really felt about the choices she’d made or those Tom made for her. But seeing those marks on her body and feeling her sadness when he’d held her, he had doubts, especially when he noticed Tom was home all week and another car parked in the street a couple of evenings.

“It’s none of my business,” he said to himself unconvincingly.

Megan was still trying to sort out her feelings on the hours-long drive home. Her indecision frustrated her, though the week alone had done her good. She’d be home a day early, hoping the home environment would help her find a way to talk to Tom constructively. He flew off the handle so quickly, which often led to a trip to the basement, and that she knew she didn’t want.

Pulling into the garage, she was both surprised and a little worried to see Tom’s car. She went inside and called out to him. Getting no answer, she searched the house and backyard, and still not finding him, she decided there was only one place left: the last place she’d want to see him first.

She padded down the stairs with trepidation, trying to think of what to say and afraid that the dungeon environment would prompt the reaction she was trying to avoid. She stopped a couple of steps from the bottom when she heard a muffled scream, knowing there could be only one cause for it.

She didn’t want to see but knew she must and opened the door quietly as a crack of the whip and a bloodcurdling scream accompanied the sight of Tom lashing some voluptuous bimbo’s back with his bullwhip.

“Oh, my God!” she said softly after another lash and a scream confirmed she wasn’t dreaming.

Tom turned to see her, and his face flushed.

“Please, Tom? Fuck me again? PLEASE!” the bimbo pled, unable to see but sensing a break in the action from her position tied to the cross.

“Megan, what are you …” he started but stopped when she turned and ran upstairs.

Releasing his prisoner’s restraints, he followed Megan upstairs and, finding her in the foyer, offered lame excuses about his needs and her diminishing interest. He didn’t even say he was sorry.

“Don’t say another word!” she snarled. “Just shut the fuck up!” she added as the barely dressed woman appeared and tried to say something, but Tom pushed her out the door.

“Get out!” she said to Tom, repeating herself several times when he didn’t seem to get it.

Only when he was gone with a couple of hastily packed suitcases did she allow herself to react. Sitting at the kitchen bar, she broke down, sobbing a pool of tears on the granite surface. She felt so alone but recognized the feeling as one she’d had several times that week.

Over the following weeks, she came to accept the situation, and though still sad that several years of marriage had ended as it had, she felt hopeful in a way. She looked on it as a new beginning and resolved to be more independent and to get what she wanted from life.

Joel had been a great help and comfort, especially the day after. He saw her getting her bag from the car and asked how her week with her mother had gone. She broke down again, falling into his arms, so he just held her, rubbing her back and whispering calmly. She felt a strength in Joel she’d never felt with Tom. They stared into each other’s eyes when they separated, both wanting to kiss the other, her in gratitude and him for comfort, but they also knew it wasn’t the right time.

In time, her life settled, and she returned to real estate sales as before Tom. She saw Joel often as her schedule was varied and only now realized his consulting job had him working at home most of the time. Their friendship remained just that, but both felt something growing for the other.

She decided she wanted to turn the basement room into a gym but couldn’t afford it yet. Joel had offered his help many times in many ways, and she liked having him around, so she approached him about making the modifications.

“Why don’t we take a look?” he asked.

“Okay. Um. Yeah. Let’s go,” she said uncertainly, leading him to the room. “I haven’t been down here since …” she said, letting him fill in the blank. “He took almost everything when he left,” she explained when they saw only the bed, spanking bench, and a few paddles left.

“He didn’t take this?” he questioned, running his hand appreciatively across the cushion of the bench.

“He always complained that it wasn’t good enough so …”

They went over what she wanted, mostly just painting, patching holes in the wall, and replacing the black ceiling tiles with white.

He got to work the following weekend. He was getting ready for the painting when Megan came down, offering him refreshments and saying she was going out for an hour or two to run errands.

Alone in the room, he was about to throw a drop cloth over the spanking bench when an image of him strapped onto the device appeared in his mind. He dropped the sheet and ran his hands over the surface, his mind’s eye expanding the daydream to include Megan scolding and spanking him playfully. Similar fantasies had plagued him for years, but he never imagined fulfilling them.

He tried to return to work, but the image dogged him. He took the dropcloth off the bench and climbed on, the fantasy becoming instantly more real. He adjusted the arm and leg rests for size and tried it again, his breathing becoming heavy.

Feeling he still had time before Megan returned, he decided to go one step further. He stripped naked from the waist down and climbed on again, this time fastening the Velcro restraints over his calves and one arm. The fantasy felt so real as he lay there, lost in a daydream where he could almost feel her hand smacking his ass and forgetting how insulated the room was from the outside.

“Have you been a naughty boy?” Megan’s voice said. He turned to see her walking toward him, almost believing it to be part of his dream. “I said, have you been a naughty boy?” she asked again, giving him one good smack.

“Megan! I’m sorry! I just …” he started, not knowing how to complete the sentence and getting another spank.

“Naughty boys need to be spanked, don’t they?” she whispered close to his ear.

“Yes. Yes, Megan,” he finally admitted as the spanks rained down.

He couldn’t believe it was happening, but the feeling of her hand spanking his bare ass was far better than he’d imagined. He squirmed within his bonds as the intensity and pleasure increased. Closing his eyes allowed him to concentrate on the sense of touch, her stinging touch.

She, too, was in disbelief, and though she was doing the spanking, she again saw that strength in Joel that didn’t need to dominate, willing to cede control to her without threatening his manhood. And she was enjoying that control, getting wetter with each spank. She stopped but hoped he’d allow her to continue directing him.

Opening his restraints, she led him to the bed. She smiled at his stunned face as she peeled her T-shirt and shorts off, leaving her in the same black panties he’d seen the day of the flood. She pulled his shirt off as well and sat on the bed.

“Maybe you’d like a different kind of refreshment?” she asked as she peeled her panties off and spread her legs.

“You’re so beautiful!” he said as he knelt between her thighs, gently lapping her smooth, glistening lips.

“Oh God!” she cried, falling back on her elbows and lifting her legs.

She didn’t know if he was so good or just so much better than Tom, but she didn’t care as his burrowing tongue explored her slippery pink lips. With his fingers spreading the petals of her flower, he savored her syrupy nectar.

With his hands on her thighs, he pushed them against his face, wanting to be held captive as he drove her to a climax unlike any other. Concentrating on her clit with lips and tongue had her panting and gasping as she moved inexorably toward her explosive orgasm.

“Oh, fuck! Joel!” she cried when it hit, squeezing him tighter in the prison of his own making and relishing the aftershocks his relentless tongue created.

He stood before her, his long thick cock pointed directly at her mouth, but before she could take him in, he turned away from her and looked back, his eyes saying, ‘Please?’

She smiled as she guided him to her side, pulled him down over her lap, and spanked his cute, pink bottom again.

“This is how naughty boys should be spanked!” she said as it intensified. He looked back to see her beautiful smiling face when she said, “Naughty girls too!”

~~~~^~~~~

Seems like Megan has found a new future with Joel! Remember to 'Like' and 'Favorite' my story and Thanks For Reading!