Read an Excerpt
Things had been a little strained in Shirley’s house lately.
Strained, ever since she and Marcus made their instant messaging discovery – she a little later than him. Their own Internet version of The Piña Colada Song resulted in feelings of betrayal and guilt in both of them, rendering their house silent, but with the unsaid words creating a tension, as if those silent words were present and hanging in the air between them.
Shirley realised now that she had felt suffocated by their hemmed-in lifestyle. Suffocated and unfulfilled. They both had been playing roles: she the good little wife; he the strong and stoic husband. They unconsciously made up mannequins of those roles, like empty shells they then tried to jam themselves into. They just didn’t fit. And the effort and frustration of trying to make it fit had been driving them apart.
Now, though. Shirley thought she might gladly go back, gladly take unfulfilled over the churning in her stomach the tension in her marriage was creating. Finally she could stand it no longer. They couldn’t continue on this way. She and Marcus needed to talk. But when she finally reached out to him, she used the medium that had served them so well, and yet had done all the damage in the first place.
She messaged Master G.
SexyShirley36: Sweetheart, can’t we talk about this? I know I was wrong. But you were too. It seems we both want something more. There were parts of ourselves we were holding back. How long until we can be honest with each other?
Shirley waited. A while. It said he was online. But there was no response. And then.
Master G: When I’m horny and it’s not Friday I masturbate while I think about fucking you.
Shirley figured this wouldn’t be a big admission for most men. But Marcus never talked about touching himself and she had certainly never seen him do it. So often she’d wanted to break free of their ho hum Friday night sex ritual, had wanted him more often, in different ways. Why hadn’t he told her?
But before she could ask there was this:
Master G: Your turn.
Shirley’s face turned bright red and her heart started racing in her chest. Her? What did she have to say? You know what you have to say.
Master G: You asked for this. You asked for honesty. Was it only supposed to come from me? R we going to do this?
Okay, Shirley thought. All right. Here goes. She took a breath. And then typed.
SexyShirley36: I want you to dominate me.
Master G: Good girl. Go on.
Shirley smiled slightly at Marcus resuming some of his old Master G style. Her domination admission made her heart feel like it was going to beat out of her chest but his “good girl” response injected a little bit of mischievous fun into the mix. Made her feel a little reckless. What’s there to lose? You want honesty. He wants honesty. So tell him.
Suddenly a torrent of words poured from her fingers on to the keyboard.
SexyShirley36: What I mean is, I want you to tell me what a horny slut I am for being constantly wet from wanting you. And for touching myself and making myself come. I want you to explain to me that my body is yours, every part. I exist solely to provide pleasure to you. I want you to punish me, teach me a lesson for being so horny and impatient. You would teach me this lesson by stripping me, tying me up and teasing me unmercifully until I was begging for release. Then you would explain to me that my pussy is yours and you are the only one who is allowed to make it come. And that if you allow me to come it will only be for your amusement, not because I deserve release. Only because you enjoy watching me come.
Realising she’d been typing furiously with him waiting, she pressed “enter” and then continued quickly, as if whatever demon, whatever courage, whatever whim had entered her mind and allowed her finally to release all of these pent up, secret desires might suddenly leave her, leave as quickly as it had come. And she didn’t want to live another second without Marcus knowing the truth.
SexyShirley36: When we’re alone, in bed, I want to serve you. I want to call you “sir”. I want to be your sex slave. I want to always ask for permission to come and to only sometimes be allowed.
It was only at this point that Shirley stopped and realised she hadn’t heard anything from Marcus in a while. She had felt free for a moment, as though she were typing to Master G. But what would Marcus think? Confused, she stopped, suddenly worried that Marcus was sitting at his computer appalled and disgusted. But wait, Marcus was Master G, she reminded herself.
Then came his response.
Master G: I won't let you come often. You’re a wet little slutty pussy and u need to learn patience, so I will ration your orgasms. Your wanting and impatience amuses me. When I do let you come it will be slow. Maybe I’ll use a feather or a paint brush, so the feelings are just enough to push you over the edge, to make your pussy contract. But not enough to satisfy your hungry pussy that I know only wants to clench around my hard cock.
Shirley pressed her legs together and felt herself throb in excitement. His words sent her head into a swimming mass of lust and confusion. Marcus? Master G? Somehow she couldn’t meld the two personalities who had seemed so separate in her head into the one man she now logically knew he was. Did it really matter?
SexyShirley36: Do you want to know more? There is more ...
Master G: Tell me all of it