Her Husband Asked Me to Tame His Wife That Night

Coming back from the islands had left me with a strange, almost suspicious calm. I knew the chances of running into Iván and his girlfriend again were minimal, so I deliberately avoided the neighborhoods where they usually hung out. With plenty of vacation time and the exhaustion of the flight still weighing on me, my plan was simple: the gym, a swim in the residential complex’s pool, relaxing, and ordering dinner in. I had no idea what kind of night awaited me.

***

That night, my phone rang. It was Quique, an old friend who lived to go out.

“So, you up for another swingers’ club?” he asked without any preamble.

“I’ll pass. We’ve been to several, and it always ends up being a fiasco. Not because of what might happen, but because of the places. The people, the atmosphere. You know I’m a bit particular about that sort of thing.”

But Quique was a salesman, and he wasn’t in that position by accident. I don’t know what arguments he used, but he managed to get us free admission to a place that barred single men on Saturdays unless they were very select clients. In the end I gave in, more out of curiosity than desire.

I took my time getting ready, and we headed over. We arrived early, before it opened to the public—something I would understand later. Hugo greeted us at the door. He appeared to be the owner, and he looked me up and down without bothering to hide it. Then Vanesa appeared behind him and did the same, except she didn’t hold her tongue.

“Fuck, Quique, you certainly know how to pick a friend. Tall, strong, and that look in his eyes... Tonight’s promising,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the place.”

As we went upstairs, she showed me everything: the two bars, the area reserved for couples, the rooms with jacuzzis, the partitioned-glass corridor, the room with the wooden cross. Everything was impeccably clean. She pointed out where I could stay and asked me not to bother anyone unless they asked me to.

“You observe,” she told me with a wink. “The important thing here is knowing how to wait.”

***

People began arriving little by little. They were regulars: the women came in covered up and took off their coats as soon as they crossed the door, revealing clothes they would never wear out in public. It wasn’t long before Quique disappeared down the partitioned-glass corridor.

Close to midnight, a couple came in who changed the atmosphere of the room. The dim lighting made it hard to see her clearly from my corner, but when they approached the bar there was no longer any doubt: it was Renata, the executive at the bank where I had my accounts. The same woman who had been holding up my mortgage application for weeks with an icy smile. In my mind, I had filed her under “spectacular and unattainable.”

Tall, blond mane, very light green eyes. Every time I saw her in her office, I imagined what it would be like to take her down a peg somehow. Seeing her there, in an impossible skirt and greeting Vanesa like an old friend, made something inside me snap.

Her husband was her complete opposite: thin, a little taller than she was, with the air of a man accustomed to giving orders in his world and taking them in this one. He spoke briefly with Hugo, who immediately signaled to Vanesa. She chatted with him and then looked straight toward where I was.

***

Vanesa crossed the room with her husband behind her.

“Bruno, let me introduce you to Raúl,” she said, and we shook hands.

Mine squeezed hard; his was limp, almost slippery. He didn’t even let me open my mouth.

“What do you think of a place like this and the people who come here?” he asked abruptly.

“That we all come for the same thing, one way or another,” I replied. “To seek pleasure, to break free of whatever morality is in fashion, to break with routine. To feel alive for a while.”

He laughed, pleased.

“You’re young, but you have a clear head. I like you. Now a personal question, and I want an honest answer: my wife likes them generous. Not shy. That’s why I need you to tell me about yourself before we go any further.”

I was wearing a towel knotted around my waist, like nearly all the men in the club. That was going to make things easier. From what I had seen of his wife and of him, I could guess perfectly well what role each of them played, and I had nothing to lose.

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I said with all the seriousness I could muster.

He looked puzzled.

“And why is that?”

I undid the knot in the towel and let it fall to one side.

“Because if your wife is that blonde woman sitting alone at the bar, she’s absolutely gorgeous. But I’m not going to cut anything short just to fit your measurements.”

He let out a hearty laugh, looked down, and muttered something under his breath. I raised the stakes.

“And after watching her for a while, I think the first thing to do would be to put her in her place. She looks like the type who gives orders, who bosses you around. And I like them submissive when they’re in front of me.”

The laughter froze on his face.

“You got everything right,” he said at last. “It’s going to be a memorable night. Two things: always use a condom. And another thing—she likes it very rough.”

“And from behind?” I asked bluntly.

“That’s special. It’s very difficult to get her to agree. But it would drive me crazy if you tried.”

Now I had all the information. It was my turn to set the conditions.

“Take her to the room with the cross. Cover her eyes and tie her up. I’ll be there in a minute. And tell Hugo or Vanesa to let me through.”

“Done,” he nodded, a challenging glint in his eyes.

***

As I headed that way, Vanesa intercepted me with a handful of condoms and eyes as wide as saucers when I asked her for the largest ones. The scene when I entered was perfect. Renata was facing away from me, tied to the wooden cross by leather cuffs around her wrists. A black blindfold covered her eyes, and her entire body trembled with anticipation: it was obvious in her ragged breathing, in the way she bit her lip. I approached slowly, silently, until I was standing in front of her. I ran my fingertips along her arm, from wrist to shoulder. A shiver ran through her.

“Who... who’s there?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

I didn’t answer. I crouched down and drew a line with my tongue from her navel to the cleft between her breasts. She arched her back and a moan escaped her.

“Please...”

I grabbed her by the nape and kissed her. It was a brutal, hungry kiss; I bit her lip almost hard enough to hurt her, and she answered with the same urgency, as if she had been waiting years for something like this. I let her go, leaving her panting.

“Tonight I’m in charge,” I whispered in her ear. “And from now on, your name isn’t Renata. You’re my submissive. Do you understand?”

She nodded, clumsy and frantic.

“No. With words.”

“Y-yes... I’m your submissive,” she stammered.

“Good. You’ll speak only when I allow you to. And only to beg.”

***

I knelt in front of her and, without warning, pulled her lace underwear aside with my teeth and buried my tongue in the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. She cried out, a sharp sound that turned into a long moan. I kept my mouth there, licking her slowly, savoring the traces of her arousal, which had already soaked the fabric.

“I beg you...” she pleaded, breaking my first rule.

I rose abruptly and slapped one of her buttocks—not very hard, but enough to leave a mark and draw a startled squeal from her.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” I asked in an icy whisper. “Looks like you need a lesson.”

I took a leather-strip whip from the wall and let the strands brush over her back, descending to her buttocks. She held her breath.

The first stroke landed cleanly, and she shuddered, biting her lip to keep from screaming. The second, symmetrical, left a pink line across her pale skin. The next ones came quickly, lower down, where thigh met buttock. Her legs gave way for a moment, supported only by her wrists, and a sob escaped her—a mixture of pain and unbearable pleasure.

“Now apologize for speaking without permission.”

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry, sir... forgive me,” she sobbed, completely surrendered.

The reward was immediate. I slipped my hand between her legs, moved aside the damp lace, and found her clitoris, hard and throbbing. She jolted as if a current had run through her.

“This is what a good submissive earns,” I told her, rubbing slowly in precise circles. “This is what awaits you if you obey.”

I brought her to the edge again and again, stopping just when she was about to tip over, until her moans became one continuous purr.

“Please... let me...” she begged, tears of pure frustration wetting the blindfold.

“Not yet,” I said, withdrawing my hand.

***

I put on the condom with a slowness she couldn’t see but could sense in the silence. I moved behind her, took hold of my cock, and ran it over her entrance, wetting it with her own fluids. She shifted, trying to capture me.

“Patience,” I murmured, pulling away.

With one hand I held her by the hip. With the other, I guided the tip to her soaked entrance and stayed there, feeling the heat radiating from her.

“Now you’re going to ask me to make you mine.”

And without another word, I drove into her in a single thrust, all the way to the hilt. The scream she let out was not one of pain, but of absolute surrender. Her body became a perfect arch, and her feet nearly left the floor, hanging from her wrists.

I didn’t give her time to adjust. I began thrusting into her with the roughness her husband had promised me and her body was screaming for. Each stroke was hard and deep, and my hands sank into her flesh as I pulled her toward me.

“Yes! Like that! Harder!” she cried, breaking every rule I had imposed on her, but at that moment her disobedience was the greatest compliment of all.

The room filled with the sound of our bodies colliding and her uncontrollable moans. The bank director, the unattainable woman, reduced to skin and nerves begging for more.

“Do you like the way I fuck you?” I growled, leaning over to bite her shoulder.

“Yes! I’m yours!” she cried, her voice torn raw.

I felt her legs begin to tremble uncontrollably. Her breathing faltered, and her whole body contracted around me with incredible force. The orgasm swept through her like a wave, a convulsion that shook her against the restraints.

***

But I wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

I untied her from the cross, and her legs couldn’t support her: she collapsed onto the floor, a heap of sweaty, panting skin.

“We’ve only just begun,” I said, helping her onto all fours. “Now here, like this.”

She obeyed without resistance, her body offered up, the blindfold still damp. I knelt behind her and drove into her again. This time her cry was one of surprise and renewed pleasure. I grabbed her hips and fucked her without letup.

That was when I saw Raúl. He was standing in the doorway, watching us, slowly touching himself, with a smile of pure happiness. Our eyes met, and he nodded: approval, permission. The signal I had been waiting for.

Without stopping, I moistened my thumb with the fluids running down her thighs and ran it over her other entrance, brushing it gently—a tacit question. She tensed for a moment, a doubtful moan mingling with curiosity. But she didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she pushed back slightly.

“Have you ever done it?” I whispered.

“Only a little... never with anything so big,” she admitted, her face pressed to the floor.

“Then today you learn.”

***

As I prepared her calmly, she moved her head, trying to rub herself against the floor to remove the blindfold, desperate to see the man who was taking her apart.

“No,” I ordered, holding her by the hair. “You don’t get to see. You get to feel.”

That act of total submission was too much for Raúl. He approached slowly and knelt beside her face.

“Do you see how you’re behaving?” he hissed, contempt mingling with lust. “I’ve never seen you like this, Renata. Never.”

She shuddered, but not because of my hands—it was his words. And then something broke. She raised her head, the blindfold still in place.

“You shut up, you pathetic little runt!” she spat, her voice no longer that of a submissive, but of an offended queen.

Raúl laughed, aroused, and brushed her cheek with his open hand, more a gesture of power than violence.

“I told you to shut up! You’re not the bank director now. Now you’re mine and his.”

But her submission had found its limit, and that limit was him. She straightened up on her arms, with me still inside her, and turned her head toward his voice.

“Me?” she roared. “Who was the one asking me to tell him how my boss looked at me? Who whimpered beneath me while I made up that the guy in the car next to us had groped me at the convention in Valencia? You! Always you!”

Raúl fell silent, mouth open, his eyes filled with an astonishment he couldn’t tell was terror or desire. He had never heard her speak like that.

Then Renata turned her blind head toward me, and her tone changed completely. Her fury transformed into pure devotion.

“And you, sir... I thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you for doing to me what he never could. Thank you for understanding my body.”

Then she turned back toward her husband, with the coldness of an absolute dominant.

“Do you hear that? He’s in charge here. You just watch and learn. Now shut up.”

***

The dynamic had completely reversed. The submissive had become the mistress, and the husband a humiliated, aroused spectator. I was merely the instrument she had chosen to prove it.

I grabbed her hips with both hands and resumed thrusting, with a new strength, determined to give Raúl a show he would never forget. Every stroke shook her to the foundations. I wasn’t fucking her anymore; I was marking her.

“Yes! Like that!” she cried, not caring who heard her, while Raúl, kneeling beside her, seemed incapable of moving, hypnotized, not even daring to breathe loudly for fear of breaking the spell.

Her body contracted around me again, a violent spasm that forced me to stop for a second so I wouldn’t come immediately.

“Please...” she begged, her voice broken. “I need your number. I need you to do this to me again. Every day. Please.”

The idea was so perverse that it made me throb hard inside her. I slapped her buttock again, drawing another squeal from her.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, then resumed the rhythm with even greater force.

I felt my own control beginning to falter. My breathing grew deep, my thrusts more erratic.

“I’m going to come,” I growled, gripping her hips.

“Yes! Not inside! Let my husband see it! Let him learn once and for all!”

With one final thrust, I buried myself to the hilt and stayed motionless, emptying myself in waves that seemed to have no end. I felt her legs give out completely, her body surrendering to the final ecstasy, trembling against the floor. Beside her, Raúl came too, barely touching himself, simply from the perversity of what he had just witnessed.

***

I withdrew slowly. Renata collapsed completely, a heap of satisfied, defeated flesh. Raúl approached her, knelt down, and kissed her feet, in a gesture of absurd devotion toward the woman another man had just dominated before his eyes.

Still blindfolded, she raised her head and smiled, exhausted and triumphant at once.

“At last...” she whispered to herself.

Before she could lift a hand to remove the blindfold, I was already gone. I took off the condom, threw it into the metal wastebasket in the corner, and the sound of the latex striking the bottom was the last thing I left behind in that room. By the time she came to her senses and uncovered her eyes to find the room empty, I would already be at the bar, drinking a glass of water as if nothing had happened.

I stayed nearby, watching the club from a distance with a strange calm. It wasn’t long before Quique appeared, disheveled and wearing a foolish ear-to-ear grin.

“Fuck, man! Where have you been?” he asked, hugging me. “Vanesa is freaking out. She says Raúl and his wife keep asking about you. That you’re an animal. And the best part: they asked Vanesa for your number.”

“You didn’t give it to them, did you?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“Not a chance. That’s yours. You handle your own affairs,” he said with a wink. “But I’m warning you: that woman is hooked. And so is her husband. They’re going to want a repeat.”

***

Two days later, I walked into the bank under the pretext of taking care of some paperwork. And there she was, on the other side of the glass of her office. Renata. Immaculate suit, hair pulled back in a severe bun, glasses perched on the end of her nose. The same inaccessible woman as always. But I knew the secret she hid beneath that armor: the taste of her skin, the sound of her moans, the exact way her body surrendered.

A wicked, brilliant idea lit up in my head.

I went in, took a number for customers without appointments, and sat down to wait. As soon as the receptionist became distracted by an elderly couple, I stood up and walked straight toward her office. She looked at me over her glasses, with the same disdain as always.

She still didn’t know that I had decided my mortgage application was going to be approved that very morning.