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Games People Play:

Picturesque

Mary Kroll, ghost-writing for the man known only as 'ATF'

In a fair and democratic marriage, everything is divided equitably, from chores to dessert to fantasies. This night, it was Zoe who climbed the ladder down into their berth to find that Wash was invoking his turn. Everything was laid out with precision, like surgical tools. On the bed were lain in situ her black high heels, thigh-high stockings, and a new addition to her wardrobe, a powder blue satin corset with proper whalebone and cord to lace it, not ribbon. This was a corset meant for function as well as form.

Beyond the bed, in the dim corner of the room, Wash stood waiting. He was bare-chested and wearing the tight, black pants that never left their quarters. Zoe knew what this costume meant and she was inwardly delighted as she bowed her head and clasped her hands in front of her. He was her master now and she his slave. If she was obedient and pleased him, her master would reward her generously with pleasure. If she defied him, he could be deviously cruel in his punishments.

Wash stepped to the foot of their bed. He was already hard, imagining their game while he waited. Zoe stood perfectly still, head down, waiting on his every caprice. She was a marvelous slave, not just a sexual creature to give him pleasure, but a beauty to be cherished. He began by undressing her. Zoe moved only enough to accommodate him. Once her glory was exposed to him, Wash stood back to admire her. He chuckled quietly as his cock jumped, wanting to have her then. But the game had barely begun. With careful fingers, Wash fastened the narrow black collar around Zoe's neck. Zoe never met his eyes and he ran his hands softly through her hair in silent praise.

The stockings came first. Wash bunched each one down for Zoe to slide her foot in. He rolled the sheer material up her leg, his hands continuing on to stroke the smooth skin above it, her thighs