Chapter Twenty-Four
Play Party Part One
I was sitting on the other end of the couch from my wife, listening to the sounds of someone being whipped in the basement when a twenty-five-year-old in a leather skirt and thigh-high boots sat down between us, put her hand on my leg and ran it up to where she could feel my erection. It startled me. I looked at her hand and then into her face.
“Does that turn you on?” she asked.
“Your hand?”
“No, not my hand,” she said coldly. “I meant the screaming coming from the basement.”
“I... ”
I glanced down at my lap.
“Is this your first play party?” she asked, changing the subject.
It was and there was no point in lying about it. I was here because my good friend Frank had invited us. My wife wasn’t the Domme I desperately wanted her to be and had
