Is breaking into someone’s house wrong? Maybe. But he’s my husband, and the state of Nevada can prove it.
What’s his is mine.
As soon as I pull up and run around to the back, I confirm my assumption is correct. This is genius. I really should break in more often. Maybe then John will finally remember to give me a key. But the thrill of breaking in is already making this whole thing more fun, so I’m fine with this option for now.
When I’m inside, I glance at the kitchen table and notice the kink lists are gone. I’m positive this is exactly where I’d left them. Did he read mine? He must’ve at least touched them. Just to be sure though, I open the trash to check. I don’t see any papers in there, so he must’ve put them somewhere safe.
My heart rate spikes in anticipation as I eagerly wait for him to get home. Today’s a sex day, and I can’t wait to see what John has planned. Oh, maybe I can get ready now! I don’t have any supplies—not that he wanted me to prep myself anyway—but I’m sure there’s something I can do that would be special for him.
I quickly pull out my phone and open the blank kink list again. There’s a big section of it about domination and submission, and I keep being drawn back to it. I try to picture John and me participating in the activities I remember the meaning of, and it’s pretty easy to imagine him in any of the roles they have labeled as “dominant.”
I do another search: “domination and submission for beginners.”I click on the first article and am immediately drawn in. I end up going down a rabbit hole, learning about why people might like submitting to their partner, and how it can be empowering to be the submissive one. I’m fascinated.
I end up on a website that has a blog where a “sub”—apparently that’s what the author considers themself—talks about all the things they love about it, and even describes a lot of the activities they enjoy doing to submit to their “Dom” in a “scene.” It all sounds so exciting and sexy, and I honestly want to try them all.
A lot of them do involve props, but as I read through everything, one thing stands out to me: waiting for their Dom in a submissive posture, on their knees with their eyes down. Then when their Dom gets there, they tell them exactly what to do to please them.
I don’t need anything special to try that! Easy peasy.
For a moment, I consider waiting at the front door, but decide it would be a better surprise if I’m in his bedroom. Plus it’s in better shape than downstairs.
He’ll see my car out front so I’m sure he won’t keep me waiting too long once he gets home. Which I think will be any minute, so I need to get into position. This whole situation will be even sexier if I’m already naked when he walks in, so I strip, fold my clothes, and put them off to the side on his dresser. Then I drop to my knees to wait. The carpet is rougher than I expected. I ignore it though, straightening my back, resting my hands on my thighs, and lowering my eyes to the floor like the article said.
It’s simple. So simple.
Except the longer I sit here waiting for him, the more I question if this is even a good idea. I shift slightly, feeling exposed in more ways than one. What if I’m trying to force a dynamic because he wouldn’t fill out the stupid kink sheet? Maybe this is me overcompensating or trying to prove something to myself, and John’s not going to be into it at all.
But then I really think about it, imagining the moment John walks in and sees me, how surprised—and hopefully excited—he’ll be that I’m choosing to give him the control I think he’s after. It’s a pretty intense visual, me kneeling, waiting for him to have his way with me.
I’m already getting hard, and I know I’m exactly where I want to be. John loves control, and I love giving it to him, so I think this is a great idea.
The sound of his car pulling into the driveway cuts through the silence and my thoughts, exciting me even more. I have to physically force myself to stay perfectly still. I don’t move a muscle, not even a twitch, as I hear the front door open, and his footsteps echo across the floorboards.
“Chad?” John calls out, but I don’t respond as the anticipation of being here, waiting for him to come home and claim me in the way I hope, thrums in my veins.
I can hear him setting something down, probably in the kitchen.
“Chad?” he calls again, louder this time, but I still don’t respond.
I press my palms a little flatter against my thighs to keep from fidgeting. My knees are starting to ache, but that almost helps. It keeps me focused on why I’m here. John will see me like this any second.
“Chad, I know you’re here,” John calls out a third time, and ignoring him is hard. So hard. Harder than my dick. I get why the article said they like to wait by the front door, but he finally starts making his way up the stairs.
This is it.
This is the moment where I find out if I completely misread him or if I’m about to unlock something new between us.
The bedroom door opens, and I’m met with a grunt that’s distinctly John.
I don’t look up or break my position. If I look at him, andhe’s not staring at me with heat in his gaze, I’ll crumble. So I stay exactly where I am, back straight, eyes down, breathing as slowly as I can. My cock is rock hard from the anticipation and the weight of his gaze. The entire room feels like it could explode with tension as John steps closer to me, his feet coming right into my line of vision.
“You wanna tell me what this is?” he asks calmly.
I swallow nervously, but I don’t look up. “I thought we could try something from the list.”
He doesn’t answer right away, just leaves me sweating in another long silence. I can feel his eyes on me, and it makes my skin feel electric. The intensity between us is palpable, and I don’t know if my dick has ever been harder without even touching anything.
“Did you come up with this idea yourself?” he finally asks.
