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The rumour was we’d be getting a dry cleaner, a florist, possibly a Starbucks or another specialty coffee shop, and to my surprise, Benito was opening up a small restaurant named what else but, Benito’s Bistro. I think this was more a vanity project than a legitimate desire to make money in the restaurant business. He probably wanted a special place to hang out with friends, and having your own restaurant near Ghirardelli Square certainly provided that.
Our postal service during the interior construction was delivered to a small temporary mailroom, which was adjacent to the lobby. Usually, it was my job to get the mail, but today it so happened that both of us arrived home at the same time, so we both did it. While Chloe used her key to open and check our slot, I noticed a rather long package on the side counter where the postal worker left over-sized deliveries. I immediately recognized the unmistakable brown and black wrapping. Only one store has wrapping that distinctive. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I knew it wouldn’t have my name on it. I glanced at the label: Kurt Wilkins. Hmm..interesting.
Whoever this Kurt is, he must have ordered something from a well-known bdsm online store called ‘Gadgets & Gear’. I knew the store well. It’s based in Vegas and has an extensive inventory of specialty sex toys, specializing in fetish gear. I was familiar with the packaging because I had ordered from the same store myself over the years. I couldn’t help but think: we must have a kinkster in the building. Judging from the length of the box, it was likely a crop or whip, but I couldn’t be certain.
I showed the discovery to Chloe and told her of my suspicions. We both laughed and joked about confronting the buyer by handing over the package and saying, ‘Oh, what did you order here, an umbrella?’
The devious wheels in my brain started turning as we rode the elevator. All the while Chloe browsed through our mail. Upstairs in the condo, I firmly told Chloe to fetch the yellow post-it notes. My tone of voice was telling. I was in Dom mode. Ordinarily, I don’t boss her around. If I wanted post-it notes, I’d go get them myself. But upon hearing my tone, she immediately slipped into sub mode. I had an agenda.
“Yes Sir, right away Sir,” she said, scurrying away to find our post-it notes.
When she returned, I took a pen in hand and asked my pet a question, “What’s that hotmail address of yours, the secondary one that you use?”
“Um, it’s subbyslut99 at hotmail, Sir.”
I wrote on the post-it note while a wide-eyed Chloe watched in disbelief. I spelled out my words slowly and carefully, mimicking a female writing style, ensuring that Chloe could read every word.
‘If you need someone to try your new purchase on, email me at [email protected]’
I handed her the post-it, and she nodded. She quietly put her shoes back on and disappeared out of our front door. Five minutes later, she returned. To my delight, she had a huge smile on her face.
“I did it,” she boasted. “I put the post-it note on the package.” Her fear was morphing into excitement. She was still nervous, but our crazy game was also providing a thrill. All evening long, she was checking her email, but rather than checking with a sense of dread, it was evident she was disappointed every time her inbox was empty.
Finally, just as we were going to bed, Chloe checked her phone and yelped in pleasant surprise, “He wrote back!”
The message, not surprisingly, was bleak: ‘Who the fuck are you?”
In the morning, it was not Chloe, but me, who emailed back on her behalf:
‘I live in this building. I know it sounds crazy, but I recognized the wrap of your package, and I took a chance. I’m a female sub, and…well, I guess I hoped there was someone like-minded in the building.’
That set off a flurry of emails back and forth, during the day, where I responded on Chloe’s behalf while she peered nervously over my shoulder. Such fun. Understandably, Kurt was sceptical. He needed to ensure he wasn’t being set up for some sort of scam. During which, I busied myself with some detective work of my own, getting a quick background check done on him, courtesy of an old connection with access to various databases. Turns out, Kurt is 55 years of age, semi-retired as a professional Engineer, and recently widowed.
As an Engineer, Kurt was methodical and careful. In the latest email he asked Chloe to take a photo of herself holding up a post-it note with the word ‘sub’ written on it. She took a selfie exactly as he directed. Upon seeing how beautiful she was in the photo, he had the verification he needed, and started to take the whole thing more seriously. His emails became less hostile and friendlier.
More emails were exchanged that day. Chloe and I were enjoying the process, knowing we were setting her up for some sort of encounter. We also knew that, like any of these situations, we could blow the whole thing if we moved too fast.
She confessed to Kurt that, while married, she was doing this behind my back. Making Chloe look like a cheater was becoming a staple in our depraved games, and it gave an element of humiliation that somehow added to the eroticism. It made her look even sluttier or sex-crazed.
As a show of good faith from his side, Kurt emailed back a photo of his purchase from Gadgets & Gear. It was a rawhide knout, with several strands of oiled rawhide intertwined and attached to a long handle. In the accompanying text, he taunted Chloe about using it on her shoulders and back, if things kept progressing. Chloe and I were sitting beside each other, and I noticed she took an audible gasp of air when the photo opened in our browser.
“Does the picture excite you, Chloe?” I teased her.
“Yes, Master. I don’t know why, but yes…yes, it does.”
“I think you know why Chloe.” I paused and then told her to explain.
“It excites me because I imagine there’s a good chance he’ll use it on me.”
I told her to stand, and then, I made her remove her jeans. She did so, standing obediently right beside me. The computer screen was staring both of us in the face, the image of Kurt’s rawhide knout now full screen.
“Spread your legs, my pet.”
Chloe was dripping wet. Her pussy was warm and responsive, no doubt from the email exchange we’d been having with this mysterious older man who lived in our building. The anticipation that one day he might whip her with the knout had clearly aroused my wife in a big way. I reached out with two fingers then began to touch her clit. She shivered and inched her legs even further apart, giving me full access to her pleasure spot. I started to rub all around her clit in circles, my fingertips squishy wet with her juices. She trembled as I did so, and we could both hear her breathing more loudly and more erratically.
“Do you want to cum, Chloe?” I asked her.
“Oh God, yes! I want to cum very badly, Master.”
I gave her permission, telling her to keep her eyes locked onto our computer screen. In less than a minute, she was cumming all over my fingers while staring at the knout that would likely dance across her shoulders one day soon. She came hard. And then, my wife thanked me for the privilege, catching her breath.
That was the last of the emails exchanged with Kurt on that day, however early the next morning, the correspondence picked up right where it left off. Kurt was increasingly less suspicious but not completely sold that this wasn’t some sort of trap. In the meantime, Chloe and I had to leave for work, which we did. During the week, there was more communication back and forth in the evenings, and a couple more photos exchanged. Trust was forming.
The next Saturday afternoon, I told Chloe to put on her loosest-fitting exercise pants, and go sit on the green bench in a small parkette between our building and the bay. She looked puzzled, but didn’t question me. She also took her smart phone and a magazine along, as per my orders. It was a lovely sunny day.
“Stay logged into your hotmail,” were my last instructions.
It took her about ten minutes to get down to the ground floor and make her way to the garden. From our living room, I could see her way down there, sitting on the bench facing our building. With my binoculars, th
e view was crystal clear. I could see her glancing up toward me, but with the reflection of the windows, I knew it was impossible for her to see anything in return.
Then I emailed Kurt, pretending to be Chloe. I’m sure she’d see the email as well on her phone. It told Kurt exactly where she was sitting, what she was wearing, and how she wanted to cum for him. Separately I texted her, telling her to take it from there.
Then I watched, knowing Kurt was also watching. Chloe opened the magazine over her lap, and as discreetly as possible, slipped her right hand underneath it, and down into her track pants. She would stop from time to time to type into her phone, obviously writing to Kurt. She would look up toward the building. For twenty minutes I watched her, and then, I saw her cum. It was evident because she tilted her head back and straightened out her legs. Then she licked her fingers clean like a good girl.
Her current mission accomplished; she walked back toward our condo.
Once inside, we fucked like crazy on the living room floor on the exact spot from which I had watched her masturbate for me, and for Kurt.
