Used by my husband
The flickering light of Sheila’s laptop screen was the only thing illuminating the bedroom as she scrolled through the forum post for the third time that night.
The words "Free Use" and "Total Surrender" seemed to vibrate off the screen, sending a sharp, insistent throb right between her thighs.
She was thirty two, lived in a pristine neighborhood, and spent her days managing a household that ran like clockwork.
But underneath the suburban grace was a woman who was starving to be owned.
She looked over at Luke, who was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of a man who worked twelve hour days in the high pressure world of finance.
He was a provider, a protector, and a gentleman.
But Sheila didn't want a gentleman anymore.
She wanted a master. She wanted to be a piece of property, an appliance in her own home that he could plug into whenever his primal urges struck.
Taking a deep breath, she reached into her nightstand and pulled out the three pages she had typed up earlier that day. It wasn't just a list of fantasies; it was a formal declaration of her body’s availability.
"Luke," she whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Wake up. I need to show you something."
Luke groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He squinted against the lamplight Sheila had just clicked on. "Sheila? It’s two in the morning, hun. Is everything okay?"
"Everything is perfect," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and pure, unadulterated horniness. She handed him the papers. "Read this. Every word. And don't say anything until you're finished."
Luke sat up, rubbing his face before taking the document.
As his eyes scanned the title—Domestic Free Use Agreement—his eyebrows shot up.
Sheila watched his face intently, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She saw the moment his professional, analytical brain processed the terms: Total access to all orifices at any time.
No prior consent required for individual acts.
The right to interrupt any chore, sleep, or activity for sexual gratification.
When he got to the section regarding Somnophilia, his grip on the paper tightened. The Participant (Sheila) acknowledges that she may be used while unconscious or asleep, and such use is considered pre-consented and encouraged.
The silence in the room was heavy. Luke finally looked up, his dark eyes searching hers.
The "work" version of Luke—the man who dominated boardroom negotiations—was starting to bleed through his sleepy exterior.
"You’re serious about this? You want me to just... fuck you whenever I want? Without asking? Even if you're sleeping?"
"I don’t want to be asked anymore, Luke," Sheila breathed, leaning closer so he could see the desperate heat in her gaze.
"I want you to look at me and see a hole that belongs to you. I want to be vacuuming the rug and have you come up behind me, rip my leggings down, and shove your cock into my pussy because you're horny and I'm yours.
I want to wake up with your hard cock in my asshole because you felt like it in the middle of the night."
A low growl escaped Luke’s throat—a sound Sheila had rarely heard. The idea of his wife as a permanent, living toy was clearly sparking something visceral in him. He dropped the papers on the duvet and grabbed her by the back of the neck, his fingers digging into her hair.
"You have no idea what you're asking for, Sheila," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. "If I sign off on this, the 'nice husband' stays at the office. When I’m in this house, you aren't my partner. You're my toy to be used. You're my favorite place to dump my cum. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whimpered, her hand sliding down to rub her soaking wet pussy through her silk nightgown. "God, yes. Please."
Luke didn't hesitate. He reached into the nightstand, grabbed a pen, and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the last page. He tossed the pen aside and looked at her with a cold, predatory hunger.
"The contract starts now," he said.
He didn't lean in for a tender kiss. Instead, he grabbed the collar of her expensive silk nightgown and yanked.
The fabric shrieked and tore, exposing her tits to the cool air.
Sheila gasped, the sudden violence of the act sending a jolt of electricity straight to her clit.
Luke didn't wait for her to get ready. He flipped her over onto her stomach with a brute strength that made her feel like an object.
"Luke!" she cried out, her face pressed into the pillow.
"Shhh," he hissed, his hand coming down hard in a stinging slap across her right buttock. Crack. The sound echoed in the quiet room. "I didn't say you could speak. From now on, your only job is to take it."
He knelt behind her, and Sheila heard the unmistakable sound of his pants lowering.
She felt his thick, heavy cock thud against her tailbone.
He was already rock hard, fueled by the sudden shift in power.
He reached down, his fingers roughly spreading her ass cheeks.
He didn't use lube; he didn't need to. Sheila was already dripping wet, her body betraying her excitement at being treated so dismissively.
He guided the tip of his cock to the opening of her pussy and shoved. He didn't ease in; he buried himself to the hilt in one singular, devastating thrust. Sheila screamed into the pillow as her tight walls stretched to accommodate his thick cock.
"Look at you," Luke muttered, his hands gripping her hips so hard his knuckles turned white. "Sopping wet and ready for your owner. You’ve been wanting this, haven't you? You wanted me to stop being polite and just fuck the shit out of you."
He began to move, his pace frantic and punishing.
Each thrust slammed his pelvis against her backside, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.
Sheila was losing her mind. This was the "free use" she had read about—the feeling of being used for a man's singular pleasure.
Luke wasn't worried about her cumming; he was focused on his own release, and that knowledge made her come almost instantly.
Her internal muscles clamped down on his cock, milking him, squeezing every drop of it.
"Don't you dare stop," Luke commanded, sensing her peak. He reached around, his thumb finding her clit and grinding against it with brutal efficiency while he continued to hammer away at her pussy.
Sheila buckled under the intensity. Her vision blurred as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss crashed over her. She was a mess of tangled hair, torn silk, and raw desire.
"I’m going to fill you up, Sheila," Luke groaned, his breath hot against her ear. "And then I’m going to go to sleep. And if I wake up in three hours and want to fuck your asshole, you’re going to take it. That’s the deal."
"Yes... please... fill me," she sobbed.
With a final, violent lunge, Luke buried himself as deep as possible and let out a guttural roar.
Sheila felt the hot, thick jets of his cum hitting the back of her pussy, over and over, marking the inside of her with his cum.
He stayed inside her for a long minute, letting his heart rate slow, his weight heavy and dominant on top of her.
When he finally pulled out, the wet schlick of his departure made Sheila shiver. He didn't offer her a towel or a cuddle. He simply rolled over, pulled the blankets up, and closed his eyes.
"Clean yourself up and get some sleep," he said, his voice already drifting off. "I have a feeling I’m going to be very horny when I wake up."
Sheila lay there in the dark, the cooling cum dripping out of her pussy and onto the sheets, a smile of absolute triumph on her face. She was finally, truly, USED.
The sun hadn’t even fully cleared the horizon when the first sensations of the morning began to filter into Sheila’s consciousness.
She was drifting in that heavy, warm space between deep sleep and wakefulness, her body still humming with the faint soreness from the night before.
The room was silent, save for the hum of the central air, but she felt a presence—a weight that didn't belong to a dream.
Luke was awake. More than that, he was horny.
Keeping her eyes closed, Sheila felt the duvet being slowly, deliberately peeled back.
The cool morning air hit her bare skin, making her nipples harden instantly.
She lay on her side, her legs slightly curled.
She remembered the contract. She remembered the rule: Somnophilia allowed and encouraged.
She remained perfectly still, her breathing shallow, playing the role of the sleeping object.
Luke didn't say a word. He moved with a craving to use his new found toy.
She felt his large, warm hand settle on her hip, his thumb tracing the curve of her waist before sliding down to her backside.
He squeezed the flesh of her ass firmly, feeling how soft her ass is.
Then, his fingers wandered. He reached between her thighs, discovering the tacky, dried remains of his cum from the early hours of the morning mixed with her own cum.
"Still wet for me," she heard him murmur, his voice a gravelly morning rasp.
He shifted behind her. Sheila felt the heat of his body pressing against her back, and then the unmistakable prod of his morning wood.
It was rock hard, thick and insistent, pressing right into the cleft of her ass.
He began to rub himself against her, the friction of his cock against her skin sending sparks of heat through her entire body.
She fought the urge to moan, wanting to see how far he would take this while she was "asleep."
Luke reached around, his hand cupping her breast, squeezing her with a possessive grip that left no room for gentleness.
His thumb flicked over her nipple, back and forth, until it was a rigid peak of desire.
Then, he moved his hand lower. He spread her legs wider, his fingers diving into her wet pussy.
He worked two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out with a wet sound that echoed.
"I know you're in there somewhere, Sheila," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot. "But it doesn't matter if you wake up or stay under. This pussy belongs to me now. I’m going to use it whenever the fuck I feel like it."