Chapter 1: The Lingerie Ritual

Tom wasn’t sure if the boutique was too warm, or if it was just Sally.

Probably Sally.

They stepped into Maison de Luxe, a high-end lingerie store tucked discreetly off a cobblestone lane. Satin, lace, and velvet adorned every surface. The lighting was soft, flattering. Everything whispered sex.

And Sally was already in her element.

Wearing a tight cream pencil skirt and a sheer black blouse with nothing underneath, she drew attention the moment she walked in. Tom stayed close, but she walked a step ahead of him, her heels sharp and decisive.

One of the shopgirls, a young brunette with full lips and a curious smirk, greeted them. “Looking for anything special today?”

Sally smiled sweetly. “Yes. We’re after stockings. Real ones. Fully-fashioned. Cuban heel. I’m rather picky.”

The girl nodded, already intrigued. “We’ve just received some vintage-style Gio seams. Limited run.”

Sally glanced back at Tom, catching the way his jaw clenched. “Did you hear that, darling? Gio.”

His throat bobbed. “Y-yes.”

The salesgirl led them to the rear corner of the store, past shelves of delicate lingerie. Sally slowed her walk, intentionally letting her hips sway more than necessary. She knew what she was doing.

She always did.

As the girl began pulling boxes from a glass case, Sally leaned in close to Tom and whispered, “You’re hard already, aren’t you?”

He nodded, face flushing slightly.

“I haven’t even tried them on yet,” she teased, dragging her fingers down the buttons of his shirt. “What do you think will happen when I’m wearing nothing but a suspender belt and these seams up my thighs?”

Tom shifted his weight, doing his best to conceal the bulge growing beneath his jeans.

Sally turned back to the girl. “Do you have a changing room?”

“Of course.” She pointed to a velvet curtain in the back.

Sally picked up a pair of nude stockings with a bold black seam. “These will do. And bring me a suspender belt, size small. Something bold. I want to feel… watched.”

The salesgirl raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

When Sally disappeared into the changing room, Tom lingered nearby, feeling the heat of the moment rise. He could hear the rustle of fabric, the snap of garter straps, the slide of silk up smooth legs.

Then the curtain pulled back.

She stepped out slowly and deliberately.

Tom stayed rooted in place as Sally stepped out of the changing room, draped in nothing but her new black lace suspender belt, flawless nude Gio stockings with bold back seams, and a knowing smile that could melt steel.

The store felt too quiet now, too aware like the walls themselves were watching.

The salesgirl’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. “Wow… You wear them beautifully.”

Sally turned slowly to give the full view, pausing when her backside faced them, the skirtless silhouette of perfection framed by taut garters and the slow curve of her ass.

“I know,” she replied playfully, tossing a look over her shoulder. “These seams make my legs look like trouble, don’t they?”

The salesgirl let out a breath of a laugh. “They really do. Are they for someone… special?”

Tom shifted uncomfortably nearby, trying to stay invisible, knowing full well what Sally would say.

“Mmm, sort of.” She walked forward slowly, pausing just close enough for the girl to notice the shimmer of arousal between her thighs. “They’re for me, mostly. I like knowing I can make men lose their minds. Especially this one.” She nodded toward Tom without even looking at him.

The salesgirl smirked. “Lucky guy.”

Sally’s voice dipped into a sultry purr. “He doesn’t get to touch, though. He just watches while someone else… enjoys me.”

That hung in the air for a beat too long.

The girl blinked. “Oh.”

“I know,” Sally said, smiling wider. “Kinky. But it works for us. He likes seeing me spoiled by bigger, bolder men. I like being taken by them.” She leaned in, brushing her fingers along the edge of the glass counter. “And he loves licking me clean afterward.”

Tom’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and unbearable arousal. The salesgirl’s gaze darted to him, and for the first time, there was something hungry in her look, not judgmental. Curious. Maybe even turned on.

“You ever worn stockings while getting absolutely ruined?” Sally asked her, voice low, intimate. “Makes everything feel ten times filthier.”

The girl licked her lips. “Can’t say I have.”

“You should,” Sally replied. “And if the guy doesn’t come inside you, you’re doing it wrong.”

There was a moment of silence before the salesgirl let out a nervous laugh, clearly flustered. “Okay, well, I’ll just… get those other pairs boxed up for you.”

Sally winked. “Thanks, darling. Make sure they’re in tissue, I like presentation.”

As the girl turned away, cheeks pink, Sally leaned into Tom’s ear and whispered, “She’ll be thinking about that for days. Maybe even touching herself. Just imagine her fingers between her thighs, wondering what it’s like to be me.”

Tom was speechless. His erection pressed painfully against his jeans, and she knew it.

Sally stepped back into the changing room, slipping back into her pencil skirt but leaving the stockings on. She didn’t even bother with panties.

She came out moments later, looking polished and powerful again. But her eyes sparkled with mischief.

They paid at the register. The salesgirl couldn’t quite meet their eyes, but she handed the bag over with both hands, her fingers brushing Sally’s just a second too long.

“Have fun tonight,” she said, voice softer now.

“Oh,” Sally replied, giving her one last, devastating smile, “We will.”

Backstory: Tom & Sally – Devotion, Power, and Permission

Tom and Sally had been together for nearly ten years, married for six. From the outside, they looked like any other couple in their thirties: successful careers, a cozy home, matching coffee mugs, and Sunday mornings spent curled up in bed with books and too many croissants. But behind that domestic bliss was a connection deeper than most would ever understand.

Tom, affectionately called “Cucky” in their private world was never the alpha type. He didn’t need to lead. He didn’t want control. What aroused him more than anything else was seeing his wife empowered, admired, and utterly desired by other men. And Sally? She discovered early on that she thrived on attention. She was sensual, confident, and flirted like it was second nature. She didn’t just enjoy being wanted, she craved it.

The shift began innocently enough. One night, during a tipsy confession, Tom admitted he fantasized about watching her with another man. He expected laughter, maybe even discomfort. But Sally’s reaction was something else entirely.

She leaned in, grinned, and said, “Tell me more.”

That moment opened the door to everything.

Their early experiences were rubbish. Let’s downs to cocky assholes with their own agenda, but we kept going and begun exploring. But it changed them forever. Sally lit up in ways Tom had never seen. Dominant in their marriage, sure. She made most of the decisions, teased him relentlessly, and kept him aching and obedient but when another man was in the room, something shifted.

Sally became submissive but not weak. No, it was something more layered. She chose to surrender. Her submission was a performance, a gift, a sacred transaction between her and her bulls. And it turned Tom on beyond reason.

He watched her kneel for them, beg for their cock, moan as she took them raw. She always let them finish inside always. That was part of her power too. Her body was a shared space. A temple with open doors but only Tom was allowed to worship the altar once the others had left.

Because no matter how many men she took, or how messy her thighs were after, she always returned to Tom. Always curled up next to him, whispered “I love you” in his ear, and pressed his face between her legs to clean her.

She would smile down at him, stroke his hair, and remind him: “You’re my husband. My everything. That’s why I let them fuck me. For us.”

Sally was the sun in his orbit. Dominant, radiant, dangerous and utterly his.

And Tom? He was hers.

Theirs was a love built on trust, kink, and total surrender on both sides.

The Car Ride “You’re Going to Watch Me Again”

The boutique’s bell jingled behind them as they stepped out onto the quiet street, the evening breeze doing little to cool the fire building in Tom’s chest.

Sally walked with unhurried grace, the crisp click of her heels echoing on the pavement. Every step was a show. The pencil skirt hugged her ass like it was sewn on, and underneath it, Tom knew exactly what she was wearing, and more importantly, what she wasn’t.

He opened the passenger door for her out of instinct, and she slipped in with a subtle flash of garter and thigh that made him falter before he got behind the wheel.

She didn’t say anything for the first few blocks. Just watched the city slide past her window while she slowly crossed her legs, her stocking seams shifting tight over her skin, just to torture him.

Then, casually, she reached down, gathered the hem of her skirt, and pulled it up mid-thigh.

Tom gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“You can’t stop thinking about those stockings, can you?” she asked, voice low, teasing.

He risked a glance. Her skirt was hiked up nearly to her hips now. She let her knees fall open slightly, flashing the edge of her bare sex. A slick sheen glinted at the crease of her thighs.

“I’ve never seen you so worked up in public,” she continued. “You were trembling in front of that girl. Bet she could smell how desperate you were.”

Tom’s voice was hoarse. “I couldn’t help it.”

“That’s what I love about you,” she purred. “You’re mine, no matter who I fuck. You’ll sit in the corner later, hard, leaking, and watch Phil use me. And you’ll thank me for it.”

He swallowed hard. “I will.”

“I’m going to leave these stockings on when he arrives,” she continued, fingers idly brushing her thigh. “He likes it when I’m still wearing the same thing I wore out in public. He’ll know you watched me pick them. That you helped me dress for him.”

Tom couldn’t speak.

Sally shifted in her seat, rolling her hips slowly. Her fingers dipped lower, just enough to spread herself with two fingers, casually revealing the glistening pink between her thighs.

“Look at me, baby.”

He turned his head briefly, just long enough to see her slowly circle her clit once, twice.

“I’m soaked, and I haven’t even touched myself yet,” she whispered. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

He nodded, barely keeping the car straight.

“It means I’m going to take him raw, again. And he’s going to come deep inside me, just like always.”

She moaned quietly, not for herself but for him to torture him with the sound.

“And then,” she said, her voice like silk dipped in venom, “I’m going to crawl onto your lap… legs still shaking… and let you clean me. Every drop. Until there’s nothing left.”

Tom’s breath hitched.

Sally withdrew her fingers and held them up, wet and glistening.

She licked one slowly, eyes locked on him. “No touching until I say. Not even later. Understand?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

She smiled wickedly and let her fingers drop to his thigh. “Good. Now drive faster."