This chapter is an excerpt from A Masterful Seduction by the Book, available at Smashwords.
Other chapters include:
A Masterful Seduction by the Book
A Masterful Weekend Getaway
The Rest of the Masterful Weekend Getaway
A Masterful Makeover
A Masterful Seduction at the Office
A Masterful Temptation
A Masterful Reconciliation
Every day since we reconciled our relationship, I could hardly believe my good fortune. Not only did George forgive my betrayal, but that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. And if there ever was a time of year when a man really commits to a relationship, it’s Christmas.
We were hanging ornaments and stringing lights on his tree one night. We were like any other ordinary couple except he had me dressed only in a black lace garter belt, seamed stockings, black stiletto pumps, and nipple clamps. He was having more fun hooking ornaments onto my clamps than he did on the tree, and each one them heavier was than the last. The increasing weight pulled on my nipples harder. Every increasing surge of pinching pain kept me very well lubricated and tingly between my legs. I really wanted to act out how he was making me feel, but he wouldn’t have any of that. He just kept going about his business of trimming the tree and talking matter-of-factly as if we were some kind of modern day June and Ward Cleaver. It took everything for me not to say, “Ward, stop being so hard on the Beaver.”
Instead, I said to him, “I have to confess there were times when I was afraid of losing control of my autonomy and my life being with you.”
“I’m not surprised,” George said, stroking my hair. “You have to be strong, intelligent and independent in your life, and I find that very attractive about you.”
“Really?” I asked, with an uplift in my voice that begged further explanation.
“If you simply obeyed my every command, I wouldn’t find it all that exciting,” he said. “If we couldn’t talk about or take an interest in things outside of sex or have different opinions now and again, I wouldn’t find you all that interesting.”
I kissed him on the cheek for the kind words, and said, “Well, we do have an interesting balance in our relationship.”
Balance. That word had never sounded as profound as it did when it came out of my mouth at that moment.
“Speaking of balance,” he said. “I have that in mind in both extremes for just before Chirstmas and Christmas Day.
“The Saturday before Christmas I always host an orphans’ Christmas with friends from the scene. You already know Katherine, you know about her Dom, Thomas, but there are a few others you’ll get to meet. It will be fun. I, or should I say we, get to show off our cooking and entertaining skills. We do a secret Santa sex toy gift swap. There are a couple of musicians in the group, so there will be lots of music. And of course, there’s plenty of play.”
“Play?” I asked hesitantly. “As in sex in front of others?”
“Yes, my dear,” he said stroking my hair. “Since this will be your first time, I’ll take your lead to what you feel is comfortable, but I have a feeling you’ll find it quite intriguing.”
He didn’t elaborate on what he meant by intriguing, but his plans for Christmas Day had me just as anxious.
“Since your family is out of town, I’d like or you to spend the Christmas Day with me and my family,” he said. “I’ve wanted you to meet my parents and it’s long been overdue.”
He had mentioned a week after we first met that he wanted me to meet his parents, but that was six months ago. I had nearly forgotten, but given the detour in our relationship, I supposed this juncture proved to be an appropriate time.
“Was that a, ‘Yes, sir, I’d be delighted?’” he asked.
“Yes, sir, of course,” I said as he started twirling a rope of gold garland around me instead of the tree.
I wasn’t dressed quite as festively for the Christmas Eve party. Instead, he dressed me in a black lace and red brocade bustier, stockings, spiked thigh-high boots, and the shortest leather mini skirt ever. We were both busy with cooking and preparing for our guests, but I couldn’t resist bending down from my hips every chance I could find. How could he not want to walk by, lift up my skirt, and give me a few heavy-handed swats on the ass when I was least expecting it? How could he not want to drill my ass every time I dropped a piece of silverware or a …