An Exchange of Power

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My palms sweat as I step into the elevator, seeing the reflection of myself in its closing gold doors. Here on 56th Street and 5th Avenue, New York City, it’s rare to find a moment by one’s self anywhere- let alone in an elevator. I sway side to side, holding my purse, and gaze at the reflection showing back at me as I climb floors. This woman ​is​ me, but she is a different side of me. A dangerous side. A side dressed in sturdy black pumps and a dark blue trench coat hiding my thoughtfully picked out lingerie beneath it.

I was in an apartment building, a gorgeous one, at that. One with gold plated mirrors in the hallways and the amount of space in rooms that one must pay top dollar for in New York City. As I step out of the elevator, the button ringing “5th floor”, I pause, and give a deep breath to myself.

Perhaps I should explain.

My husband and I have been together for many years. Nearly 30 years, in fact. We’ve been through it all: from the very beginning- a lustful love… and throughout the years- a comforting, yet predictable repetition of our married love. We had a very explosive sex life in the beginning of our relationship, though to be honest, as years passed by and my body started changing, I couldn’t help but begin to feel less confident in myself. I know I shouldn’t, as women’s bodies are beautiful, persevering, and incredible creatures. But my stretch marks, sagging, and weight gained over the years had subconsciously made me feel less-sexy. There were times my husband and I would go out for a date, and see young couples moving through Union Square holding onto each so tightly, with such passion, as if they were afraid to let go… afraid their partner may disappear if they did.

I wanted that. I knew my husband loved my body, but I also knew it was time to do something to flip the script. I knew it was time to start loving my own body, to believe again, and allow myself to experiment and explore… even being older in age. Even after memorizing the lines and curves of each other’s bodies after so many years. I knew there was always something new a couple can discover about each other.

So… after one tipsy night at home, one Pinot Noir bottle down, I sat on the lap of my husband- something I hadn’t done for a long time. He looked at me- smiling, curiosity and interest, shining in his eye.

And I decided to whisper my fantasy to him.

So back to now.

Here we are. In the gorgeous hallway of an apartment I told my husband to rent out for the night. I smile to myself, and think… m​ y fantasy begins.

I turn down the hallway, lustful and excited for the adventure about to begin.

I reach the doors of 5F. I slowly place my hand on the doorknob, manicured nails (done especially for tonight), wrap around and gently push open the door.

The apartment is dark. It is a sweet one bedroom with a side office in the corner of the room; modern decor, an elegance in its design. To my right, there are swing doors leading to its bedroom, and in the middle of this living space is a standing massage table set up in the center of the room. Lit candles are placed throughout the space, giving an intimate dim lighting.

I walk into the apartment, taking in this new space, and drop my purse next to the massage table. I grab my lipstick out, and move to the bathroom to reapply a bright red lip, taking my time washing my hands. I enjoy these moments. Making him wait.

Once settled, I walk back to the massage table. Beside it, a small radio sits on a cabinet. I quietly press ‘start’ and a playlist begins; a calming and eerie mix of slow orchestral ambiance. I love the city lights coming in from the closed shades, really makes me feel like I’m away so secretly from the madness.

My eyes slowly move to the closet on my left. Taking my sweet time, I strut to its entrance, toying a few moments in my head, if I should even open it.

Eventually, I do, and thrust open the doors to reveal my husband, naked, on his knees, tied hands in front of him, facing the closet wall. Just like I instructed.

I had fantasized about power play, but never felt like I completely fit in, necessarily, with the stereotype of BDSM. I always assumed it was some strange group of people, yielding whips and chains, taking pleasure in beating the living snot out of each other. But the more I came to understand, explore, and ​fantasize,​ I came to grasp that there is a delectable nature to the art of trust, dominance, arousal, and pain.

In my black pumps, I lightly scratch my nails up the skin of his lower back, he releases a short gasp inwards, shuddering at the sensation of the sharpness and building anticipation. This is so different from anything we’d done before, and it was exhilarating. As new as it is, I feel perfectly in my zone. It surprises me, the sadistic and intense drive I feel. My fingers reach the base of his neck, and I grasp the back of his hair tightly, slowly pulling his head backwards so he could finally see me.

In silence, I maintain eye contact with him as I part my lips, and smoothly untie my dark blue trench coat. I slip it past my shoulders, revealing a see-through, lace, lingerie set, and garter. I had never worn such an outfit before, but at this moment, it feels as though I am a seasoned pro, confident, as my husband ‘s eyes widen in astonishment, his cock twitching in arousal.

“Stand.” I command, and he does so. I take delight as I stand behind him, stoic, seeing him struggle to gain his balance, an amusing challenge, without using his tied hands.

“Turn to me”. I command again, and he follows. Now able to finally, visually, full-bodied, take in my presence under the candlelight. He gazes adoringly at his wife, losing himself, in quite frankly, the shock of seeing his lover in such sensual lingerie and dominating presence.

“Eyes up”, I smirk, enjoying his hungry eyes devouring my body in this way. His eyes jolt upwards meeting mine, the moment I command him to. W​ ell-trained so soon, I​ think.​ Perhaps my husband has been fantasizing about this as much as I have.​ I reach forward and grab between the short rope tying his hands together, and lead him, out of the closet toward the massage table.

Placing him against it. I turn my back to him.

“Lie down. And only refer to me as Miss.”

“Yes, miss.” He responds, smiling, and lying face up on the massage chair, fully exposing himself to me.

I needed to remind him who was in charge here. I turn, facing him, bellowing over him lying beneath me. I coolly untie his hands, pulling another short rope from my purse, and tightly retie each hand separately, to a spread eagle position atop the massage table. I liked seeing my man like this. Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable. At my disposal.

“Tell me how beautiful I am”. I mutter, looking deadly into his eyes.“You are so, so beautiful”. He murmurs, smiling as he tries to pull himself upwards to kiss me.

“Uh, uh, uh… I put my finger in front of his mouth, pushing him back down. Not good enough”. I utter, picking up the candle beside me.

“What are you doing…” He trails off, as I systemically, coldly, pour 3 hot wax droplets across his chest, he gasps as the pain shocks and stimulates him, savoring sensation while restrained.

I knew he’d like this.

“Thank you Miss.” He breaths. “I’m sorry. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life, I am thankful for your attention and touch.”

“That’s better.” I cutely toy back, dragging my finger nails up his thighs. I get closer to his face below me.

“And now… time to take care of those legs of yours”. I moan, moving past him and taking out 2 more short ropes, tying his legs far apart.

Now he really, ​really,​ can’t move.He has a panicked, awakened, desperate, look on his face, his cock getting thicker and harder, bobbing up and down, desperate for my tongue. “I have one last little rope for you.” I play again in his ear, tracing my tongue in small circles, driving him mad.

I stand down by his toes, and crawl on top of the massage table, moving lowly up to his waist. I get close above him, not touching him, but close enough to breath my hot breath against his shaft, making him groan in anticipation. I like making him squirm. I unveil my smallest rope, and begin to tie a tight loop around the base of his cock, wrapping it around and around, moving to his balls, lightly wrapping each in a separate hold.

I did my research for this.

His cock is now rock-hard. He is tied completely, thoroughly, and it is making him burst at the seems. It’s making me wet as well. Who knew I had this power inside me, all along? The power to make this man, my best friend, see me in a different light. A light that I commanded. That I own.

“Beg for me to sit on your cock.” I command, a gleaming and deadly stare in my eyes. “Ohh…” He moans, “Please, please, Miss, sit on my cock. Please let me fill your wet pussy up.

I tease over him. Toying my lips around the tip of his shaft, hearing his begging and agonization increase even more each second.

I suddenly stop my movement, looking him straight in the eyes.

“You cum when I tell you to.”

I lower, and push his pulsating cock into me, hearing his gasp of euphoria, being given the gift he has begged for. I ride up and down, turning and pleasuring myself every which way I desire.

My husband begs again, “Please, may I cum?”

“No.” I say curtly, enjoying my ride more.Minutes go by, his eruption being restrained with every willpower he has, knowing he will not disappoint me or his punishment would be s​ evere​ even for seasoned submissives.

My orgasm builds, moaning and gasping as his Mistress suddenly turns ravenous, desperate for a taste of his cum.

“Cum. Now.” I instruct, and without a moment’s notice, I feel his hot liquid fill inside me, erupting me into an orgasm I have never experienced.

We moan and connect in bliss, releasing my body on top of his.

After a few moments, I look into his eyes. He gazes at me with adoration, and murmurs, “You have, and always will be, the sexiest creation I have ever known. I love you.”

I smile back, “I love you, too.”