Clowning Around

Part 1

It was a lousy place for a clown. She felt smug as she stood in Los Angeles' Union Station in her clown suit. It was complete with red nose, and big floppy, yellow shoes. Lauren felt a weird combination of anonymity and conspicuousness. She also felt somewhat empowered standing in the train station dressed as a clown.

In the distance, she could see her husband Ryan. He was shooting photos of her and smiling to himself as people swarmed past her. Most thought nothing of a clown standing in the middle of Union Station. A few made comments that were to be humorous: "Hey, quit clowning around and get on your train!" "Get the hell out of here, clown!"

A female Hispanic cop approached. Lauren and Ryan hadn't thought about raising suspicions from law enforcement. How would she explain her way out of this? She saw Ryan take the camera from his face so he could watch.

"Can I ask what you're doing here?" the cop demanded.

The cop was beefy-looking, like she'd played women's softball in college. Her tits looked like they strained to stay in her uniform.

"This is all very innocent, officer, I swear."

The cop stood, glaring at her.

"Are you protesting? Planning a flash mob?" she asked.

"I made a bet with my husband. I lost, and this is my punishment."

"Your punishment of losing a bet with your husband is to stand in Union Station in a clown suit?" she asked, unimpressed.

"Yeah. Let's see if I can explain this in two or three sentences, without getting too, um, explicit."

A vibration shot through her and she shuddered in delight. Ryan! That bastard! He had turned on the remote control vibrating egg. It lay lodged against her clit, inside her panties. She fought like hell to maintain her composure while she talked to the cop.

"Yeah. See, I have this bad habit of forgetting times and dates. We bet that I'd forget Valentine's day, and I did. So this is my punishment. That's him on the stairs, with the camera," she said, pointing.

The vibrations stopped.

"Hm," the cop said, looking in the direction she pointed.

Lauren sucked her breath in sharply as the egg pulsed again, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her. The cop looked back at her, and gave her a quizzical look.

Part 2

It had started when Ryan had bet Lauren that she would forget Valentine's Day. New Years Day they talked about upcoming holidays, and realized Valentine's Day was next. There were no significant holidays between President's Day and Easter.

"Too bad we don't have Valentine's Day off," she said. "It's on a Friday this year."

"It doesn't matter, you'll forget it anyway," Ryan said.

"Hey! I will not! It's a very important day to both of us. I won't forget."

Ryan rolled his eyes and then smiled at her.

"Sweetie, I love you. But you'll forget. You've forgotten our anniversary before, too!"

"No, I won't forget. I'll remember this year, I promise."

"You wouldn't want to make a little wager on that, would you?"

"Maybe. What are the stakes?"

He thought for a moment, and then a mischievous gleam shone in his eye.

"If you forget, the next day you have to be my sex slave for the whole day. You have to do anything I say."

Then she opened her big mouth and put her foot in it.

"That doesn't sound so bad, I can deal with that," she said with a smile.

"You're right. Maybe we should up the ante a bit."

He thought for a moment. Lauren knew from his expression that his creative mental juices were flowing. She almost dreaded what he would come up with. A smile came over his face.

"I've got it. You also have to stand in Union Station dressed in a clown suit for an hour."

Lauren thought about it for a second.

"You're on!" she said, and they shook on it.

"I'm not giving you any hints or clues!" Ryan said.

"I have it under control," she answered, confident. "Not to worry."

Lauren put a reminder on her calendar app. She began wondering what she could get him as a gift. She wanted to avoid the tried and true, wanted to do something more unique. Racy boxers? No. It had to be something better than that. A sex swing! The thought came to her out of the blue, and she knew it was the perfect gift. She liked being the one in charge, and lately they'd gotten into pegging. They both loved it. She liked the sense of power and role-switching. He liked the lack of power, the sensations, and role-switching.

The days ticked by. She figured she could order the swing on the tenth for it to arrive on time. Then her cell phone died, and she had to replace it, because it would no longer take a charge. Something happened with her calendar app when her phone died. She lost a few appointments in mid February. She no longer had the scheduled reminders, but she didn't notice them until they'd passed. Minor things, like picking up the dry cleaning. More days ticked by, and she had forgotten about the special lovers' day.

Saturday, February 15, they woke to a gray day. They took turns showering, and then Lauren made them a simple breakfast of hot oatmeal and fruit. As they ate together they talked about their plans for the weekend. She wore a floppy striped sweater and a pair of comfy jeans. He wore a black shirt, boots, and jeans. She wondered why he'd dressed all in black.

"What's the date today, honey? There's something I have planned for next weekend, and I want to be sure I have the date right," Ryan said.

Lauren looked at her calendar app.

"It's February fiftee..."

Her eyes widened and she caught herself short. She didn't dare remind him of their bet. What had happened? How had she missed the reminders? Oh shit! She remembered the lost reminders and her phone dying.

"February fifteenth?! Gosh, already? I seem to feel like we've forgotten something," he said in a coy, mocking voice. "How about you? Do you feel like we've missed an event or appointment?"

"No. Whatever gives you that idea?"

He smiled seductively, and got up.

"You lose," he said.

Lauren knew she was had.

"What happened to my reminder? Damn it! It must have disappeared when I changed phones."

She sounded nervous and on edge.

"What happened to the reminder between your ears?" he asked, dripping with sarcasm.

It was a valid question, but Lauren didn't have an answer.

"I don't know," she said sheepishly.

"No matter. Anyway, you remember our deal. You will be my slave for the day, and do anything I say. Let's get started and set some ground rules, shall we? You will call me Master. If I ask you a question, you will say 'Yes, Master,' or 'No, Master,' and nothing else. Is that clear?"

"Okay," she said, and then realized what she'd done--or not done.

"That's going to result in extra punishment for you, slave. Let's try again. When I ask you a question, you will answer 'Yes, Master,' or 'No, Master,' and nothing else. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Okay. Now come here and kneel in front me."

Lauren did as he told her. It felt erotic, agreeing to submit to and kneel before her husband.

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl. Now stay there while I get something."

He returned with a brand new dog collar and leash. He fastened the collar around her neck and attached the leash clip to the collar.

"Now. Follow me. You may crawl on your hands and knees."

"Yes, Master."

He led her into the den, where he'd set up a few things. A single light, a new installation, pointed at the wall. Attached to the wall were four clamps, positioned where her wrists and ankles would be.

"Take off your clothes, slave. Stand against the wall and get them off."

Lauren obeyed her husband and stood against the wall. Lauren's nervous fingers fumbled as she lifted off her sweater and then undid the clasp on her bra. Her small tits bobbled free. Ryan stood and watched her, putting a distance between them. She felt he was her audience as well as her master.

She bent down and took off her fuzzy socks, and then unbuttoned her jeans.

"Turn around and take them down slow. Let me see you reveal your nakedness to me."

Oh, man! "Reveal your nakedness to me" was not the sort of language he used, and it sounded so sexy, so decadent. She slid her jeans down over her hips along with her panties. Her nipples felt taut.

"No! Not with the panties. Just the jeans. Try again."

She pulled the jeans back up the couple inches that she'd lowered them, and tried again. She felt a tingle between her legs, and knew that moisture was seeping from between her folds.

She wriggled out of her jeans and pulled them off her ankles. Then she put her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, and drew them down over her hips. Right now, she wanted to make her Master happy. Maybe if she made him happy with what he saw, he would reward her with with his tongue. Or, even—his cock. She licked her lips at the thought.

She moved her hips back and forth sexy and slow as she pulled the panties down her thighs. She bent way over as she pulled them past her knees and then off. Ryan walked toward her, with an authoritarian air. He seemed strict and unyielding, like a different person. Now she understood why he wore black jeans, turtleneck shirt, and boots. She felt him attach a pair of soft handcuffs to her wrists, which he secured behind her.

"Turn around," he ordered, and she did.

He unzipped his pants, reached inside them, and pulled out his growing cock. Then he reached for her hair and used it to pull her to her knees. She knew what was expected, and she wanted to please her master.

"Suck," he commanded.

She was almost drooling, her mouth was so wet. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn't touch or grab him. She could only use her mouth. Looking up at him, wanting to be sure he knew she served him, she took the head in her mouth, then went down. It filled her good, and felt warm and strong. She was able to get a minute or so of good head in, before he spoke.

"Stop."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, releasing him with a soft slurp. He went around her, and undid the handcuffs. He gave her her commands one at a time.

"Lie down on the floor."

She lay on the floor, feeling the fuzzy pile against her bare skin.

"Spread your legs wide."

She did, and he took a spreader bar from a corner. She hadn't noticed it earlier. He attached her ankles to each end, and then walked around her. Her shaved cunt lay wide open to his gaze, the folds parted. He seemed to be examining her body with his eyes only. Though it was exciting, she began to feel a little self-conscious about the way her husband looked at her. He sat down in the armchair about four feet from her. The spotlight shown on her, but it wasn't in her eyes.

"Masturbate to orgasm."

"What?" she asked.

While they'd jerked off in front of each other in bed, doing it while on display like this was different. He stood up and jerked the leash, and brandished the leather handle. In an instant the handle came down with a loud slap on her upper thigh, and made her jump with a slight yelp.

"Slaves do not ask questions!" he barked. "You will do as I say!"

Oh god. She felt herself oozing. She imagined he could see her folds, open and slick. The wetness gave her excitement away, when she most felt like hiding in a hole.

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master."

Lauren closed her eyes, and ran her hands down her sides to her thighs. She felt the area where the leash had come down. She didn't feel anything with her hand. But the skin on her thighs burned with an exquisite fire. She caressed her inner thighs, feeling herself relax. She heard him shift in the chair, and opened hereyes. He was watching her every move, silent and present.

She turned her head and closed her eyes again. This time she brought her hand to her tits. The nipples were hard, and she stroked and tugged each one in turn. The nipples got harder, as she flicked one, then the other. Her breath became shallow and rhythmic. The juices coated the walls of her sheath, threatening to spill out and leak onto the carpet.

Running her hands down her belly, she took her time to reach her triangle. She touched the folds, cupping her pussy with her hand, and shivered with delight. Moisture trickled down her ass crack and onto the carpet beneath her. How could Ryan not notice that? He had to know how hot she was, had to know that doing herself in front of him this way was an amazing turn-on.

Taking a finger, she ran it along the edge of her outer lip. A moan escaped. She hadn't meant it to, it happened. She ran it along the other lip, and gasped with pleasure. She almost couldn't stand it. She wanted to rub her clit, but also wanted to prolong the ecstasy. It took restraint and determination to continue stoking her fire. Not yet. Her master would like it more that way. Not yet.

She ran her finger along each inner lip, feeling the wetness that coated them. She had to get to the source of the wetness, coax the flood from herself. Two fingers dug hard and deep into her sheath, and she let out a loud groan. She tried to drive them in deeper, but couldn't, so she pulled them out. In they went again, fast, again and again, her moans matching each thrust. She plunged them in and out filling the room with wet squishy noises. Fuck, she was so wet! She didn't imagine she'd get this turned on by jerking off in front of Ryan. She could see him, sitting in the chair, watching her, his cock hard and tall. Being on display like this made her feel deliciously wicked, like she was his private slut.

Lauren couldn't take another second. Switching hands, she fucked herself with two fingers of her other hand. She brought her right hand to her clit and went at it. Her insistent moans got louder and faster, and then she surprised herself when she grunted like a man. Her head bucked forward with each spasm as her orgasm rocked through her.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she heard herself crying out.

Her body clenched one last time and held the tension, face contorted, eyes tight. Then she relaxed and closed her eyes. One hand came to her right tit, the other stayed at her damp cunt. She felt the juices coating her folds and fingers, still oozing from her core. She felt the carpet wet beneath her.

Next thing she knew, Ryan was detaching the spreader bar.

"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered.

Obediently, she got up on all fours. Seconds later, the leather leash handle landed on her ass, causing her to squeal in both shock and delight.

"Who am I, slave?"

"My master, good master," she whimpered.

"That's better. Now hold still while I brand you."

He wouldn't actually hurt her, would he? she reasoned within herself. The swats were okay, but what about a "brand?" He was her loving husband! A cool wetness on her asshole interrupted her thoughts.

"Since I respect your limits on anal, I'm going to go easy on you," he said.

His finger probed her back door as he lubed it, moving swiftly but gently in, out and around. It felt good, real good. Then he took his fingers out, and a few seconds later she felt something else demanding entry. It was very hard. It wasn't his cock. It was a perfect fit. He was pushing a butt plug into her. Deeper and deeper it went. It was thicker than his finger, but nice.

"Stay there. Don't move," Ryan said.

She watched as he brought a chair from their dining room. The chair had wooden spoke backs and cushioned seats. He placed it against the wall, in the spotlight. She noticed that he'd placed a towel on the seat. How thoughtful.

"Put this on," he said, handing her a small strap with a cup shaped vibrator in it.

"Yes, master."

She slipped the strap over her legs and hips so the vibrator cupped her pussy.

"Sit on the chair."

"Yes, master."

He tied her ankles to the chair's legs with soft cuff-like restraints. Next, he put her arms behind her back, and secured her wrists to the chair's back.

"Now. Let's play a game, shall we?" he asked, and slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

Faint light crept around the edges of the blindfold. Anticipation mixed with trepidation filled her emotions. What would he do to her? What yummy pleasures did he have planned? A couple minutes passed as she waited for a sound, a touch, something to break her anticipation.

Something brushed against her belly. It was light, feathery, and oh, too brief.

Something else brushed her inner thigh. It was smoother than the first thing, but still unknown because the touch was so brief.

A third object scraped down her throat. It was sharp, almost knife-like in its detail. She took in her breath at the touch. What was it? Her husband wouldn't hurt her, would he?

He grabbed her tits, making her gasp at the sudden change. The grabbing gave way to caresses, and she realized he was wearing fine leather gloves. They felt sexy on her bare flesh, and she felt her nipples tighten and stiffen.

All too soon the caresses stopped. She strained to hear a sound, anything that would tell her when he would touch her again. She could not quite hear his breathing. Then there was a sound like metal or hard plastic rubbing together. Two fingers grabbed her nipples, and then something fastened to them—nipple clamps!

She half moaned and half cried out at the mixture of pleasure and pain. He readjusted the clamp so it wasn't so tight, and then fastened the other one.

"Are you okay, my slave?"

"Yes. Just very excited."

She felt moisture seeping between her folds again. It was reassuring that he'd spoken to her out of character. She was enjoying their game, but was glad to have more confirmation that it was a game.

"Good. I don't want you to be an uncomfortable slave," he said, slapping her inner thigh with a paddle.

"Oh!" she gasped at the unexpected swat.

A feather traced a line from her chin all the way down to the nestled vibrator. A moment later, what felt like the quill end of the feather scratched its way up her inner thigh. That must have been the sharp object he'd drawn down her throat earlier.

Without warning, the vibrator hummed between her legs.

"Oh God," she moaned as her head fell to one side. "Oh sweetie, that's so good."

The paddle smacked her inner thigh with a thwack.

"You will call me master! I thought I'd made that clear!" he said in a stern voice.

The vibrator shut off.

"I'm sorry, master."

There was silence—an eerie silence. She tried to hear him breathing, but couldn't hear even that. A car went by outside, its wheels making a rushing sound on the asphalt. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. She had a sense that Ryan was next to her, though she couldn't hear or smell him.

She gasped suddenly as ice cold water dripped on her chest. He must have gone to get an ice cube from the freezer. She squirmed at the sudden cold. When she squirmed she must have opened her legs right, because next a drop of hot candle wax landed on her thigh. She let out a soft rasping cry as she winced. The vibrator came on, buzzing between her folds. She moaned, sinking into the chair as if she would melt. Then Ryan shut the vibrator off, and a drip of icy water landed on her breast. She strained at her bonds. A few seconds later a drop of hot wax landed on her thigh. Ryan removed the blindfold, dripping more icy water down her neck.

Naked, the smile on his face gave away how much he was enjoying this. His right hand held an ice cube, and in his left he held a lit candle and a remote control.

The drips got more frequent, and she moaned and squirmed in the chair. She tried to rub against the chair to rub herself, but the vibrator prevented stimulation.

Ryan blew out the candle and put what the ice between her lips. It was cold and wet, and dripped in tiny rivulets down her chin. She accepted his offering. It felt good to wet her mouth after all the moaning and gasping.

Ryan walked to the other side of the room, and put the candle in its holder. He took his seat in the armchair and gave her a calm look. The vibrator turned on, buzzing once more against her clit. Ryan took on a relaxed pose, crossing his legs as Lauren sat and moaned.