Chained by Choice: Submitted to Her Husband

JULIA

“What are you reading now?” Scott asked.

Scott was my husband of ten years. He had just caught me engaged in one of my guilty pleasures, reading erotic romance novels. More than erotic, steamy really. Scott is tall, surfer boy handsome and fit. He has his own residential construction business and often worked with his men, which meant he was a man’s man as well as a woman’s. I loved him immensely and was not looking to upgrade. For that matter, he was more romantic than I was, still giving me flowers on special occasions and celebrating Valentine’s Week, not Valentine’s Day. He helped with the household chores, rubbed my feet or my back if they hurt, and was the best lover I’ve ever had. Still, I did enjoy my romances. I handed him the book.

“A reverse harem romance,” he read aloud. “What’s a reverse harem?” He asked.

“A reverse harem is one where there are many men satisfying one woman, instead of many women for one man; a harem in reverse,” I informed him.

He continued reading the publicity blurb on the back of the book. “‘I was a virgin when the earth was captured in an interstellar war. I was stripped, enslaved and auctioned off to ten alien warriors who helped subdue our world. I was claimed and ravished in the most reprehensible ways imaginable. They set about mastering my maiden body and instructing me what it means to belong to them absolutely. They bought me to use me, but in my heart I know they would protect me with their lives.’ Ten men, huh?” He asked. “Does this titillate you?”

“I enjoy them, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t read them. It’s a fantasy. Ten would be far too many for me. One is plenty. I’m quite happy with you.”

“Do you masturbate to these?” Scott asked.

“Sometimes,” I admitted.

“So, what’s the allure. Why multiple men?”

Scott could drive me crazy with his questions sometimes. It was a guilty pleasure, not an expectation.

“Well, think about it,” I said. “To think a single man can satisfy multiple women is unrealistic. Men have to reload, so’s to speak, after having sex. He’d be lucky to satisfy two women realistically. A woman could easily satisfy many men if she was willing. There’s no reloading required. One finishes, another one takes his place.”

“Ahh, biology, the differences between men and women. Still, ten is awfully high. A woman can only satisfy three men at once, unless she uses her hands as well, then maybe five.”

“But the five would still need to reload. It still leaves five who can take care of her needs until they do.”

“So, you’re imagining it would take ten men to satisfy you sexually?” Scott asked.

“No. It’s a fantasy, Scott. I have you and you do plenty to satisfy me. Have you ever heard me complain about our sex life?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Because I don’t need seven men when one good one will do. In reality, this one is more my speed.” I handed him another book I planned to start next.

He started reading, “‘Trained by the Emperor’s Guard. First she was captured, now he will train her. When aliens raid Earth’s first colony on Mars, scientist Abigail Weller is taken captive. Upon regaining consciousness aboard a strange interstellar vessel, Abigail is informed that she will be trained her to serve the alien emperor. She will learn all the ways her body can be debauched to serve her future master. Further, any refusal to obey orders will be punished harshly. Abigail earns a bare bottom spanking within moments of meeting her trainer. She soon learns there are more humiliating ways for a misbehaving human female to be reminded of her place on her knees before her Master. As her nude body is displayed and stimulated, Abigail finds herself quivering with impotent need and begging to be claimed as thoroughly as he pleases. As they get closer to the ruling planet, she realizes she wants no one but the Imperial Guard who has claimed her heart.’ Mmmm; a spanking. Is that something else that fuels your fantasies?”

“Not really. Again, merely a fantasy. I’m not looking for you to spank me, thank you very much. I suppose I wonder what it would be like, but not enough to want to have one. It sounds like it hurts to me, and you know I don’t do all that well with pain. Stubbing my toe is a major crisis. Sure, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a sex slave. Not like being kidnapped and forced to work in a bordello or something, but to be owned by one masterful man. Of course, in the books, they describe the sex slave’s orgasms as earth shattering, ocean pounding and pussy melting; cataclysmic and cosmic fireworks going off.”

“And yours are what?” Scott asked. “Little waves and fireworks fizzles?”

“Scott,” I warned. “Don’t piss me off. My orgasms with you are the best I’ve ever had. They are not earthquake quality, but I doubt anyone’s really are. Again, fantasy. These writers are paid to make us believe in unbelievable bliss. I sincerely question unbelievable bliss exists in reality. Just because I enjoy reading about this, doesn’t mean I’m missing something in my own life. I’m happy and content. Don’t make it sound like I’m not. You enjoy the movie Avatar. Does that mean you want to go to some alien planet, run through trees, and mate with blue skinned natives?”

“If they wore as little clothing as Zoe Saldana does and I could do the whole mind meld thing with the pigtail, sign me up.”

“So, if I’m reading this right, you’d gladly kick me out of bed if you could mate with semi-naked, blue skinned Zoe Saldanas?”

“Well, I’d prefer to have you both, but if I had to kick one of you out of bed, adios muchacha.”

I hit him, a love tap really, because I knew he was kidding, and aimed a well earned “asshole” his way.

“Your fantasies are no more realistic than my own,” I said. “Maybe less so. I’m depending on an alien race to kidnap me and turn me into a sex slave, you’re depending on Zoe Saldana to have sex with you.”

“Burn. Touché, Julia.”

“Not that she wouldn’t enjoy sex with you, Scott. I’m perfectly happy with what I’ve got. Good luck convincing her you’re the man for her.”

“You mind if I keep this for awhile and read it? I want to see what’s driving your fantasy life.”

“Sure. I still have to finish this one, but don’t get any crazy ideas. I’m not looking for some Tarzan to drop me in the jungle and have his way with me. It is a fantasy only, mister, fantasy only.”

“No problem.”

SCOTT

I’d always known Julia read romances and I’d even read some of them myself. Though in the past, it was brooding nobles and innocent maidens, seductive rakes and penniless governesses. This was the first time I’d ever heard of reverse harems, multiple men and singular women. That was a bit off the beaten path. And sex slavery, stripped and sold, spanked and tormented. This was not her usual fare as I was aware of it. I wondered what was causing her to migrate to these instead of the ones she used to read. Was there something wrong with our sex life I was blind to? This sounded much rougher than her past reading material.

Julia was tall, 5-9, blonde like me, hair to the middle of her back; legs down to there, lovely, soft, C cup breasts with nipples that became hard easily and were very sensitive and a perfect, round, athletic ass you could bounce a quarter off. She worked out doing Yoga, a spin class, aerobics and light weights several days a week to stay in shape, plus often swam laps in our pool.

It took me a couple days to get through the book and I returned it to her. I didn’t say anything about it, but I did start looking at other books she’d been reading. Our bookshelves were full of them. There was definitely a similarity in theme. Some were humanoid space aliens, some cowboys in the women starved West, some mountain men with Indian women, men shipwrecked with single women, werewolves with their mates. A lot of them featured multiple male partners, and the ones that didn’t, often showed women in sexual bondage, captured, stripped, sold and tamed. I even discovered she’d read some of the Gor books by John Norman. The Gor books were less explicit in the sexual descriptions, using things like slave kiss and slave orgasm to discuss the sex, but more brutal in the way it portrayed the slavery. The more recent books usually had an element of romance, with the heroine finding love while in her slavery. Norman’s books were more interested in portraying the naturalness of female slavery compared to the female equality practiced on earth. It wasn’t a woman finding her love through slavery, but her love in slavery. She loved the slavery itself, not her owner. Some owners were better than others, but being a slave was her raison d’être, her reason to be, not the person who owned her.

It turned out these types of books were really popular, especially among female readers. Not so much the Gor books. They were male fantasies. The others were doing well on Amazon. So were the ones she used to read, but this was a popular new category of books. I wondered if we men were doing the wrong things if our women were fantasizing about this stuff. Sure it was fantasy, but it was a more brutal fantasy than I would have expected, a rape fantasy, in effect, where the woman comes to love her rapist or rapists. Rape was not something I imagined most women would care to experience in real life. So why so much in their imaginations? Not enough excitement in their lives? Was Norman correct in some of his assumptions; that submission to strong males was an inherently natural trait, bred into our lizard brains over tens, if not hundreds, of thousand years and the last five hundred or thousand years was an aberration our forebrains hadn’t yet worked out a way to overcome? It raised a lot of questions. I actually found a quasi-scientific study from Playboy magazine in the seventies which theorized a lot of what went on in humans was still tied to the evolutionary pre-history involving things like chemicals in our brains, hormones, pheromones and other subtle factors that skipped the logic centers of rational thought, making thinking secondary to chemicals.

Still, it did start some ideas percolating in my head. If this was something Julia enjoyed fantasizing, could I do something to allow her to live the fantasy without having to undergo the reality. It might be fun on my part too. I wouldn’t mind being the Masterful Slave Master she imagined in her fantasies. The one to ring her bell, to bend her to my will, turn her into my little sex slave. I contemplated what I might do to allow her to live her fantasy.

I saw Julia had purchased another four book series about space aliens capturing humans. They were more reverse harem novels. She was currently reading the second book. I interrupted her reading one day.

“What if you could find out what sex slavery was all about without actually having to be captured by space aliens?”

“What do you mean?” Julia said, her hackles going up and preparing for a battle.

“What if you could find out what it would be like to be someone’s sex slave for a brief period of time, without the rigors of having to be an actual sex slave? You would be required to submit to someone for that time, but when it’s over, it’s over. You get to go back to being Julia again, suburban housewife, and not permanently remain someone’s slave wench?”

“Oh. And I suppose I would be your sex slave for this time? Good one, Scott. Nice try.”

“Well, unless you don’t think I could be masterful enough and have someone else in mind. I mean, you know me and that I’d never do anything to really harm you. Yeah, I could spank you, but would I spank you as hard as someone who didn’t love you?”

She was about to say something in retort, but paused for a moment.

“Like for a day or something?” Julia asked

“I think it would have to be longer than a day. Anyone can tolerate a lot for a single day, so it would have to be for some longer period of time. I was thinking maybe three weeks to really understand and comprehend what it would be like to be someone’s sex slave. Less than that and you’re just playing games. We could negotiate some ground rules ahead of time so all expectations are laid out. Just throwing it out there for consideration. No need to make any decisions now. Think about it and tell me what you think in a week or so. Might be your only chance to discover if earth shattering, ocean pounding, tidal wave, pussy melting orgasms really exist or if the writers are blowing smoke up your skirt.”

I left her there with her mouth agape and went outside to mow the lawn and let her steam for awhile in her own juices. I was pleasantly surprised to peek in our bedroom window a half hour later and see her fingers working her pussy into a lather. Maybe my idea might bear fruit sometime in the future. Either that or her book was really, really good. I smiled.