A Condo with Two Views (23 page)

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Authors: Al Daltrey

Tags: #Bdsm, #bdsm erotic romance, #bdsm bdsmerotica, #bdsm and domination, #bdsm dominance submission dominant submissive bdsm erotica, #bdsm bondage domination sadism masochism

BOOK: A Condo with Two Views
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It is a dominant’s job to take care of his
submissive’s needs. My Dom failed me.

Jack made me feel cheap, and when I
thought about what was going through his head while playing poker
with Benito, I felt sick to my stomach. The adorable Jack I met at
that Halloween party two years earlier wouldn’t have put me in that
position. I had just broken up with my fourth boyfriend in as many
years. I was starting to think maybe there was something wrong with
me, but I couldn’t bring myself to settle. It’s not about being in
love, it’s about being madly, crazily, wildly obsessively in love.
That didn’t happen until Jack. Not even close.

He also broadened my horizons sexually, in
ways I did not even know existed. None of the other men or women
I
had ever shared a bed
with, did that. With Jack, it wasn’t orgasms; it was
thunderous
orgasms that took my breath
away. I’d been shared once by an ex-boyfriend, but the first time
Jack shared me was with a couple on Paradise Island in the Bahamas.
The second time was on a weekend trip to Vegas where he paid an
escort girl to give me a spanking in our hotel room. We loved it!
That Christmas, we went to L.A. to see some of his friends, and he
took me to a party with the Club Insomnia crowd. There was no
actual sex, but I was put on display for a portion of the party as
a Christmas tree with two dozen or so clamps affixed to my body as
decorations. It wasn’t lost on Jack or me that being exhibited in
that fashion turned my pussy into a lake.

But that was then. I couldn’t imagine that
we’d ever return to a life of Master and submissive ever again.

He broke my trust and regaining it was no
easy task.

Chapter 16. Puerto Vallarta

Jack’
s View:

The trip to Puerto Vallarta came at the right
time. It had been a month since our big fight, and a vacation would
be a nice way to infuse some additional healing.

Both Chloe and I always enjoyed salt water
swimming. We swam, snorkeled and did a responsible amount of
sunning. It was nice to see her perfect skin get slightly darker
with a tan. It was the last day of our holiday, and we were going
to take a cab into the little town of Puerto Vallarta to go to an
Italian restaurant named La Dolce Vita. Chloe came out of the
shower and was drying herself off with a towel. She didn’t notice
that I was watching her. The tan lines were there to see. Her
breasts were a creamy white, along with the outline of a bikini
bottom, while the rest of her was darker. There were times during
the week when I kissed that body and tasted salt from the ocean,
but now she was freshly showered.

I wanted to use my Dom voice to command her
to come crawling to me, but I couldn’t. I was her husband, but no
longer her Master. Sure I could wander up behind her and begin to
nibble on her neck, and I’m sure she’d let me make love to her, but
my days of taking total sexual control of her were history.

Later in the restaurant, one bottle of wine
turned into two. The food was okay, about what you’d expect in a
resort town in Mexico. We both agreed the trip was a much-needed
break. We were flying back early the next afternoon and stepped
outside for a cab around midnight. It was a warm evening with
various tourists and locals milling about. We saw a taxi drive past
and waved it down.

The driver was a middle-aged Mexican with
broad shoulders and long sloppy hair. His English wasn’t very good,
but when we told him the name of our resort, he nodded and we sped
off. Chloe and I started kissing in the back seat, not unusual for
us.

“I liked seeing your tan lines today,” I
whispered in her ear.

“Wanna see them now?” she teased me.

Again, I found myself wishing I was her
Master, so I could control the situation. Chloe pulled her own
breasts out of the top of her dress, and I noticed that our driver
was looking in his rear view mirror to see them. She then spread
her legs, and taking my hand, she guided it right to her pussy. I
pulled her undies aside and started to run my fingers along her
slit. The driver now was spending as much time looking in his rear
view as he was looking forward to the road ahead. Chloe took a hold
of my wrist and pulled my hand away, lifting it upward toward her
face.

She made sure that the driver was looking at
her through the mirror when she sucked my visibly wet fingers into
her mouth, slurping on my digits, making noises, tasting herself.
Then I kissed my wife, a nice long slow kiss, mouth to mouth. She
fed both of us her fingers while we kissed.

The driver meanwhile was starting to shimmy
up and down, very rapidly, which initially we didn’t quite
comprehend. Then I chuckled, and Chloe giggled. He was jerking off.
He was steering with his left hand while he tugged on his meat with
his right hand.

Chloe asked me a brazen question, “I know you
no longer dominate me, but as my husband, do you have any objection
to letting me play a little?”

“Not at all. After my fuck-up, I’d say, for
the rest of this year, you can do as you please.”

I was quite surprised when Chloe suddenly
started motioning for the driver to pull over onto a darkened quiet
street. He did so just as she glanced over at me.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “I won’t let
him touch me you-know-where.”

Then my crazy wild unpredictable wife opened
up the back door, and in a flash, had jumped up into the front
passenger seat, her tits still popped out of her dress, bouncing in
the open air. She reached across, and with her free hand, started
to jerk the driver’s cock. I was laughing and shaking my head all
at the same time. She looked back at me with the silliest
expression on her face.

“Oh my god, this guy is hung like a freakin’
horse,” she said.

With her right hand, Chloe was stroking
the Mexican who was now leaning back and enjoying what I am sure he
thought was a completely bizarre American couple. He probably
thought we were much drunker than in fact we were. Little did he
know we weren’t drunk; we were just kinky.

Chloe kept pulling and stroking on the man’s
big, thick, fat meat. Then with her free hand, she guided his hand
to her breasts. She wasn’t going to let him touch her pussy, but
she was going allow him to feel-up her tits. He pulled on her
nipples, feeling them harden in his fingertips. His fingers were
also thick and calloused. This was a hardworking man who must’ve
felt like he’d just won the lottery.

You are completely crazy my adorable wife.
Sometimes I think you’re crazier and kinkier than me. Which is
probably another reason why I fucking love you so much.

Chloe’s View:

It was the last night of our vacation, and I
was in a frisky mood. I think subconsciously I was intentionally
pushing my luck to see if Jack would take control of me again. I
don’t know. Maybe I was starting to forgive him after all.

We were taking a late night taxi from the
town back to the resort. The driver looked like a Mexican drug
cartel member from central casting. Jack whispered something in my
ear about seeing my tan lines earlier. He never thinks I don’t
notice him, but I always know when he’s watching me covertly from
another room. On a total whim, I reached into my dress, with its
low V-neck line, and pulled out my tits. The old Jack would have
told me exactly what to do next. With the new Jack, I needed to
take matters into my own hands.

I spread my legs and guided his hand to my
pussy. With my free hand, I pulled aside my panties allowing his
fingers access to my wanton hole. I peered up at our driver’s eyes
in the rear view looking back at us. With Jack’s fingertips slick
with my sluttiness, I took hold of my husband’s wrist, and guided
his hand up to my mouth. I sucked his fingers into my mouth,
ensuring our driver was getting a show. If he didn’t see it, which
he did of course, he sure as heck heard me. I was slurping on those
wet fingers like a kid eating ice cream, and moaning all the way
through it.

Jack and I almost burst out laughing when
we noticed the guy jerking his chicken, as they say. But then I
thought, why not?
Go for it dude, we’re getting crazy, why not really enjoy
the moment.
Next, I
asked Jack’s permission to push this little scene even further. He
acquiesced, still treating me with kid gloves. I motioned for the
driver to pull over. There’s no way I’d ever let a random taxi
driver, in a foreign country of all places, touch me, but a handjob
would be harmless enough. Mostly I wanted to see if Jack would
interfere, or if he truly respected my new found sexual
freedom.

With the cab pulled over, I jumped from the
back seat to the front seat. This guy must have elephant in his
DNA. Jack is big, but this guy is a freak of nature. His thick,
heavy cock must have been ten inches long and thicker than my
wrist. I reached across and started stroking it, while the lucky
recipient smiled at me, with a tooth missing, no less. My tits were
still out in the open, and I even let him pull on my nipples just
before he blasted the entire dash of his car with spurt after spurt
of thick creamy cum. He was making a mess, but he didn’t care. This
was the experience of a lifetime.

At the hotel, the cabbie refused our payment.
Even when Jacked flashed him two $50 bills, he steadfastly refused
to accept it.

Jack and I fucked with incredible passion
that night. It felt like the days of old.

Later in bed, I asked Jack a question: “Do
you miss it?”

He knew what I meant, and answered in a very
guarded way, “I hate what I did.”

I fell asleep thinking about his answer.
While he knew what I meant with my question, I in turn, knew what
he meant by
his
answer.
He
did
miss it. He missed owning me as
his submissive.

But he wouldn’t own me, for fear of hurting
me again.

Chapter 17. Pitch Day

Jack’s View:

With Puerto Vallarta a few weeks behind us,
life returned to normal. I was still working extensively on the
biggest new business pitch in our firm’s history. The few days
before the pitch saw a lot of late evenings, as we did rehearsal
after rehearsal. We needed to be super tight on the big day or
there’s no way we’d win. I’d get home at 10:00 or 11:00 pm, and
Chloe would be waiting with a smile and a hug. We’d watch a bit of
television, maybe have one glass of wine, and then fall asleep next
to each other in bed.

I woke up early the morning of the pitch
without having had much sleep. The adrenaline would carry me
through it, so lack of sleep was the least of my worries. I kissed
Chloe on the cheek, while she still lay in bed, and off I went.
Coincidentally, she booked the morning off to run some errands.

“I’ll call you as soon as the pitch is over,”
I said, “love you.”

Traffic was worse than normal, as always
happens when it matters. Luckily, I built in buffer time, so my
colleagues and I all met at a coffee shop, with plenty of time to
spare. We did one last walk-through of the agenda and game
plan.

The pitch itself went brilliantly, although
we always think that’s the case. Even when you think you’ve won,
you are often surprised to lose. We were one of four firms
pitching, so all things being equal, our chances were twenty-five
percent. For a full hour before the pitch, and three hours during,
I kept my cell phone off. I couldn’t afford any distractions.
Besides, Chloe knew we were on – so with the possible exception of
a ‘Good Luck’ text, I didn’t expect to hear from her.

Leaving the pitch, we headed straight for
the nearest pub so we could do a post-op. Everyone was turning on
their cell phones at the same time. Mine showed several phone
messages. That was strange since we had also told our receptionist
not to forward any office calls. Then I looked at
who
these messages originated from,
and I gasped.

The San Francisco Police Department had
phoned me three times. All that was left was a return phone
number.

Scrambling, I took my phone and found a
quiet spot in the hallway of the pub, just outside the men’s room.
Nervously I dialed.
What the fuck is going on? Hurry up, answer, answer!
Finally after the fourth ring,
a male voice answered.

I spoke before the word ‘San’ was out of his
mouth: “Hello this is Jack Gibb. Did someone phone me?”

There was a moment where papers were
shuffled, and then he spoke, as if reading a script, “Are you
married to Chloe Gibb?”

“Yes, I’m married to Chloe Gibb. What is
going on?”

“Sir, there’s been an automobile accident. I
suggest you make your way to the UCSF Medical Center
immediately.”

“Is she okay? Tell me, is she okay??”

“Sir, I think it’s best if you proceed
directly to the hospital.”

“But I have the car. How could she drive if I
have the car? Was she with someone?”

“There is another name on file here, yes. He
was the driver of the car.”

“Who? Tell me, who?”

“The gentleman’s name is Benito Sanchez.”

I walked straight outside, not bothering
to say goodbye to my colleagues. I took a cab, knowing it would be
faster than retrieving my car. Besides, I was in no shape to drive.
All I kept thinking was:
please let her be okay, please let her be
okay.

And what the fuck was she doing with
Benito?

Chloe’s View:

I was still in bed when my phone buzzed on
the nightstand beside me. From the sound I knew it was a text, not
a live call. I assumed it was Jack telling me they were about to go
in and do their pitch.

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