He Knows Pt. 01

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This is a fictional story and not intended to suggest anything about real-life BDSM play, consent, or relationships. I welcome your comments and suggestions for this story. Thank you.


“I want to fuck you in the ass.”

My husband’s voice purred over the phone line, and I looked wildly around the office to see if anyone was close enough to hear him over the speaker. “Matthew!” I gasped, as I slammed the speakerphone “OFF” button on my phone and then brought the headset to my ear. “I’m at work!”

His voice continued, low, and dark, and relentless. “I want to fuck your ass hard. I want to pound into you, to feel you grind and buck against me. I’m going to make you like it.” He paused. “No. I’m going to make you beg for it.”

I could feel my cheeks heat and my nipples harden, and a rush of wetness between my legs.

“Matthew, I am at the office. There are people here.” I whispered this.

He plowed on. “I have plans for you. Now, I know that we’ve tried this before, and it’s been pretty tentative and gentle. I’ve been afraid of hurting you. But sometimes I feel like maybe you want this. Because lately, I’ve been licking your ass. I’ve really liked that. I’ve been doing it a lot. I like rolling you over, and licking your ass over and over. I have been stuffing my tongue right up into your ass. And at first you squirmed away and seemed really unsure about the whole thing, but you would push back against my mouth every once in a while. And moan. And that’s increased until you mostly are not trying to wiggle away anymore. You’re mostly arching towards my tongue now. I know you like it. I think maybe you don’t want to like it. But you do.”

I was silent. I didn’t know what to say. I…it was true. I didn’t want to want it, but I did. How did he know?

His voice continued relentlessly, and all I could do was listen in silence as he completely seduced me. “I have a plan for how this is going to happen. Every time we have sex—which is going to be at least once a day until I am satisfied—I am going make sure every day that you come. And every time there is going to be something in your ass. And we’re going to start not with the tiny little plug you have. I know you can take that small thing, even though we almost never use it. I am going to put dildos up your ass. You are going to constantly have them in your ass. When you are home, you will never know when I will command you to put some object in your ass. And we’re going to make these things bigger and bigger and bigger…and I’m going to lick your pussy when you have these things in your ass. You won’t even be allowed to come unless you are stuffed full. And I’m going to do this over and over and over until you beg me to fuck your ass, to pound into you, to come in your ass. We are going to do this every day—and it is going to be so much fun! Until you want it as hard as I do. Until you beg for it. I don’t care how long it takes to get you to this point, but you will never have another orgasm with me unless you have something in your ass—until you are truly and honestly at the point of craving it like I do.”

I felt dizzy with lust and anticipation—and a bit of dread. His voice was so compelling when he described the things he liked to do to me. He loved to tell me hot stories, and I loved hearing them. Was this just another hot story? Did he actually mean this?

I started to speak, “Ummm…”

But he cut me off. “Be ready when you come home tonight. I am going to take you into the shower. I am going to wash you all over. I am going to wash your breasts, and your pussy. I’ll wash your arms and your legs. I’m going to wash your ass. I’m going to get you ready for me. Then I’m going to take you to our bed, and I will lay you face down with your legs spread wide. I’m going to tie them that way until you can’t move and you can’t escape.” He chuckled and went on. “And I’m going to kiss you all over that gorgeous ass. I will lick your cheeks, and rub you. I will oil you up and massage you. I will lick your ass and massage it. Then I will start putting things in you. Then we’ll go out to dinner, but you will have something in your ass when we go. When we come home I’ll continue. You will come so hard, I promise. And we’re going to do this every single day. Are you ready?”

He stopped speaking, and I struggled to find my own voice. “Umm…I…I guess so.” I didn’t know what else to say.

He laughed. “See you at five?”

“Ok,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up.

I sat in my cubicle, surrounded by the clattering of keyboards and people chatting. I was almost in a trance. His barrage of images had turned me on so much I didn’t know how I would finish the next few hours of work. I couldn’t believe his prescience. How does he know me so well? He seems to know the deepest parts of me—the hidden inner skin of me. How did he know that I wanted that? I never said so. I never, I thought, even hinted. But somehow he did know. He must know that sometimes, when I touched myself, and couldn’t quite get to orgasm, I would put illegal bahis that little plug in my ass—the one we had only used once or twice together. I would do it roughly, so it hurt a little, because the ache made me come. Or sometimes I would want to masturbate, and I would go online and find a brief porn clip of some lucky woman being double penetrated. Not nicely or sweetly, but forcefully. I would watch this unknown woman’s ass being filled and then her pussy, and I would yearn for that sensation of fullness and loss of control. Of being at the mercy of the men pushing her body back and forth. That got me off every time.

How did he know?

It didn’t matter. He knew.


When I arrived home, he was waiting for me at the door. He had a cocktail in one hand and a smile on his face. As soon as I entered, he said, “Put down your bag.” He set the cocktail on the entryway table, then knelt down in front of me. He unbuckled the ankle straps of my sandals and helped me step out of them.

He smoothed his hands up my bare legs, under the hem of my black pleated linen skirt, just a bit, then let it drop again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the inside of my thigh just above my knee. His tongue touched the skin there for a moment. “Turn around,” he told me. After I turned, he ran his hands back up under my skirt, up over my hips and caressed them for a moment. He dropped the skirt again and rose up. He pulled from my shoulders the light cardigan I had worn to ward off the air conditioned chill of the office. He draped it over the table.

It was a hot summer day, late afternoon. The windows were open, and the blinds drawn wide. A warm fragrant breeze wafted across my naked arms. Then he tugged at my black tank top hem, pulling it upward and over my head. I cooperated, and pulled my arms out of the straps. His hands, holding the tank, drifted over my shoulders and my breasts, which were only lightly shielded from his touch by a thin orange microfiber bra, chosen less for attractiveness than for its cool comfort.

He tossed the tank top onto the table, then pushed his hands back under my skirt. He raised the knee length hem up and up until it was raised to the middle of my shoulder blades. With his left hand he pressed the skirt there, holding it against my back. His hand at my back compelled me forward until my chest and face were pressed against the back door. Firmly. My face turned to the side, my cheek against the cool smoothness of the door. My hands came up and rested beside my face, palms flat. He pinned me there, hard. I was trapped.

I felt him shift behind me, and I knew he was looking at my ass. That morning I had pulled on the lightest pair of black microfiber briefs I owned. They weren’t overtly sexy, but were very thin and tight, and had a silky sheen, which I knew he liked. His right hand brushed against my bottom of my cheek, where the underwear had ridden up a bit. He was looking at my pale legs and my white, white ass. I could hear him purring a soft “Mmmmm.”

I felt his fingers trail over the satiny fabric, then he pushed his hand between my legs. He felt the dampness there. No matter how hot the day, that was not sweat he felt, it was my pussy wet with desire for him and his ideas. I was wet from thinking about what he had said all afternoon, and imagining it. How would the things he described feel? I was drenched, and drenching more as he rubbed me through the briefs. “Mmmm,” he said again. “That feels good. And you look beautiful.”

He dropped my skirt to my waist, and with both hands unhooked my bra. I didn’t move, but stayed flattened against the door. He reached around and wiggled his fingers between my breasts and the door to peel off the cups. My breasts fell free. He pulled me back slightly until my face still leaned against the door, but my breasts were more accessible. He cupped them with his warm hands, strummed his fingers over my tight nipples.

He reached down and pulled my hips back against him, and I felt his hard cock press against me through the roughness of his jeans. He pressed against my bottom and my lower back.

I knew that if the neighbors looked over through our open windows they could see us, me topless and him grasping me. But I didn’t care.

He lowered his hands and turned me. He picked up the cocktail and took a sip. “Here, have a drink.” He handed it to me. As he pulled his hands away from the glass, one glanced over my nipple, and the coldness of his fingers from the icy drink shocked me. At the quick inhale of my breath, he smiled, then plucked the glass back from my hand, and dragged it slowly over each nipple. The icy condensation caused my nipples to tighten almost painfully, and left a wet trail over my breasts.

He gave the glass back to me. He watched the sheen of moisture on my nipples dry in the warm breeze. Then he started to pull on my skirt. The elastic waistband gave easily and he drew the skirt down over my legs. I took a sip of the drink—a gin and tonic—and savored the crisp sensation of the bubbles illegal bahis siteleri in my mouth. He hooked his fingers into my black briefs, then tugged them down as well, until I stepped out of them and my skirt.

I was in the middle of the kitchen, in the middle of the day, the windows open, for anyone to see. Naked.

He said, “Let’s go take a shower.”

I laughed. “Now?”

“Now. I’ve waited long enough.”

So I followed him upstairs, sipping my gin and tonic. It was very strong. I think he wanted me a little tipsy and compliant.

He turned on the shower, then turned to ask, “How do you want your hair? I know you hate laying on wet hair.”

“You’re right. Let me put it up.” I set down the empty drink. I bundled my shoulder length honey colored hair into a messy topknot, then stepped into the shower.

The water wasn’t too hot on this warm day.

I looked at him and realized he had shucked his clothes very quickly. He stood there nude, his cock jutting up red and hard and delectable. He came into the shower after me, and my hand went out to touch it.

“No no no,” he chided. “You don’t get to touch now. I’m going to wash you.” He turned me so my front faced the oncoming spray of water. It needled into my breasts and belly, cool, refreshing.

It felt so wonderful, as the water washed away the grime and stress of the day. Matthew pumped out a portion of my favorite grapefruit-scented shower gel, lathered his hands and began washing my back with long smooth strokes. His hands were gliding over my slightly tensed muscles, relaxing them. He brought them around to my chest, and rubbed the suds all over my clavicles, my shoulders, and gave my breasts extra attention. He washed over my belly and rubbed down between my legs, then knelt under the water spray. He lathered up more soap and washed my thighs and calves. Then he picked up each foot, and carefully ran his fingers in between every toe, and rubbed and massaged the arches. I could feel myself relaxing.

Finally he turned to the main attraction for the evening. He added more soap and then massaged my bottom cheeks. He rubbed over them and over them, kneading and gliding up and down my crack. He squirmed his finger slightly against my anus, then returned to the up and down motion. He did this a few times, and I felt his soapy finger press just barely inside of me a bit. He was washing me inside and out.

He reached from behind and cupped my vulva with his sudsy hand, rubbed a bit. Then he turned me to face him. The water streamed over my back and sluiced the soap away. He raised his palms once more to my slightly soapy breasts and gave them some more attention. He flicked my nipples, and lifted my breasts. They were all slippery and sudsy. He tugged on my nipples as well as he could, but I was too slick for him to grasp. He reached beneath one breast and smacked it lightly from the underside. The slap felt wonderful, and made a loud wet sound. He smacked the other one. He turned me back into the spray and pressed up against my back, and continued to smack them under the pounding water. Then he turned me again, leaned over and nibbled on each nipple, sharply. He knew I loved my breasts treated roughly, though usually he eased me into this rougher play more gradually. He sucked each nipple and gripped my breasts tightly in his hands, enough to make me whimper a bit. When he heard that he stood and smiled at me. He kissed my mouth, long and deep.

Then he took the handheld shower head down from its holder and sprayed me with the cool water all over. He held the spray for an extra long moment close between my legs, until I began to squirm unsteadily. The he turned me around and rinsed my backside.

“There you go,” he said. “All clean.”

He dried me off with a soft towel. Then he instructed me, “Go lay down on the bed, face down. Spread your legs and arms wide so I can tie you to the bed.”

I went into the bedroom and laid down on the cool white sheet. He had removed the duvet, and pillows—they were placed on the dresser. I spread my limbs wide, and pressed my left cheek into the mattress. Then I waited. I could smell freshly cut grass, and could hear the sound of a neighbor’s lawn mower. The windows were open, and the curtains. Birds were singing in the trees outside. I knew when he came in he would see me in this bright sunlight. I wondered if he would like what he saw.

I think he took a quick shower himself. Mostly I think he liked to make me wait. Several minutes passed before he finally entered the bedroom.

I heard him clinking around, looking for something. Then I felt cool leather around my ankle—a cuff. He buckled leather cuffs around each ankle, then each wrist. Then he reached up and slid something under my neck. It was a collar, which we had only used a couple of times. Again, it was something I secretly liked, but never asked for. But he knew. He buckled the collar on.

Then click…click…click…click. Each cuff was fastened to straps he had already attached under the canlı bahis siteleri bed. He tugged and pulled at my legs when he did this, and they were pulled even wider apart. I was attached. I was a little uncomfortable actually—he usually didn’t tie me so tightly, so spread open. But I let it happen, relaxed into the slight burning of the stretch. I felt my thighs ease, my hip flexors soften.

Once again I felt his gaze on me. He was watching, examining. He could see everything. My pussy was entirely bare to him, the lips exposed, probably wet. I felt wet. Though I had not shaved that day, I had a few days previously, and there was only the barest hint of hair there. He could see every part of me in the sunlight.

I knew he could also see my ass. My anus, puckered there, my cheeks open. The light was so bright! I really didn’t like being so visible. I felt so exposed, almost raw.

Vulnerable. But there was nothing I could do about it. I relaxed into this discomfort just as I relaxed into the wide spread of my legs. I didn’t like this part. But he did.

I felt his weight come down on the bed as he knelt behind me, between my legs. I felt his warm hands come down on my ankles and smooth slowly up, over my calves, linger behind my knees where I was so sensitive, up over my thighs to my hips. Then he palmed over the rounded curves of my ass. He rubbed the skin of each cheek.

Massaged each one, played with them really. He tapped them, and said “I want to spank you. I’m going to do it soon, maybe tomorrow, hard, the way you like. But right now, I want to lick you.”

With that he crouched down, and I felt his warm soft tongue right at the base of my vagina opening. He lapped upward, slow and hot, over my perineum, over my asshole, up the crack of my ass. He licked over the globes of my bottom, every bit, but kept returning to dance his tongue over my hole. I felt his soft licking everywhere.

Sometimes he nibbled the soft inner curves, and below where my ass met my thighs. Once he bit rather hard. Then he settled down between my legs, and began licking my ass in earnest. He tongued me over and over, pressing into the opening, while rubbing my cheeks with both hands.

I wanted to squirm away. I didn’t know if I liked that. It was so invasive, so odd feeling. I tried moving but his hands clamped down on my hips, and I only had a very little leeway in my bindings anyway. He licked again, and thrust his tongue inside me. Did I like it? He knew.

He kept fucking me with his tongue. Soon, just as he had said on the phone, I didn’t want to squirm away, I wanted to press back against him. I wanted him to enter me more. It did feel good. It felt amazing. All the nerves in this sensitive area were sparking and sizzling.

He knew I wanted it. But I didn’t know how to want it myself. He was going to show me how to want it. He was going to make me show him how I wanted it. He said so.

He said, “I want to feel your ass pressing up against my face, arching against my tongue. So when this feels good, I want you to wiggle your ass, and press back to me. Show me you like it. I’m going to keep licking you, and licking you, and licking you, until it feels amazing and you beg for more.”

He dove back in. He licked my crack, and my hole, then down around my labia. He swirled his tongue as far down as he could reach, flicked my clit with his tongue until I gasped. Then he licked back up and plunged his tongue back in my ass. I wiggled as much as my bonds allowed.

Round and round he went on this circuit: tongue fuck, soft wide licks over my ass, press tongue against asshole, flick clit, tongue fuck. I was squirming and arching, and whimpering also now. Now and then his fingers would brush up over my clit, making me jump each time. I moaned. I was so wet. I felt his tongue again, licking softly over the edges of my labia, upward, joined with his thumbs. They were rubbing, pressing, and followed his mouth to my ass, where all three danced around my opening for a moment. They pulled and pressed, and swirled. He was pulling my ass open with his thumbs, and pressing his tongue in me so hard. I felt it had to hurt him to press his tongue out with such force. But it felt so amazing. I shoved my hips upward to his face and ground, so I was fucking myself against his mouth. I was making all sorts of noise, and I couldn’t stop myself.

He loved it. I felt him humming his pleasure against me, so the vibrations entered me also. I was gasping, “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Then, at last, panting, he rose up. His hands gripped the round softness of my bottom so tightly I felt each finger dig in, and spread my cheeks open wider. He groaned, “Oh my god, you’re so gorgeous. Your ass is all wet, and your pussy is wet, and you want me to fill you up, don’t you? I want to.” He reached down and licked my ass again. “It’s so fucking hot, I want to fuck it, right now.”

I felt him staring at me, rubbing my cheeks with his hands. Then he muttered, “I’m not going to, not yet. I’m going to wait until you beg me. Until you want it as badly as I do. I won’t fuck it until you beg.” He seemed to be convincing himself as well as me. “Right now, I’m going to get you ready. I’m going to start working your ass until you can take a nice hard fuck and want more.”

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