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Amy's Bitch

By: vainvanveen



I was sitting alone in the hot tub when I heard the back door close. Amy, my wife of seven years, had come out into the yard, probably to smoke.

"Hey," I said. She smiled as she approached. Without saying a word, she rolled up her sleeve and slipped her hand into the bubbling water.

"Oh," I said, feeling her grab me through my trunks. "This is unexpected." She smiled at me, and slipped her other hand under the waistband. My cock rose quickly under her fingers. She's always been good with her hands. Lightly, she ran her painted nails along my shaft, leaving me groaning. Then she wrapped her warm hand around my cock and squeezed gently while her other hand cradled my balls. Then, she switched to using her nails on my sack while rubbing my cock under the water. I was panting with desire when she reached a hand back behind my balls and began to rub a single knuckle against my perineum. I groaned as she massaged my prostate, molten bolts of pleasure running through the base of my spine as my scrotum tightened against my body. 

"I think we need to lose these shorts," Amy said, pulling my trunks over my straining cock.

"Uh huh," I nodded dumbly, frantically tugging at the trunks until my feet came free and Amy pulled them from the water, letting them land on the patio with a wet splat. I was naked in the tub while she stood outside, still in her jeans and sweater that she wore to work that day.

Her hands slipped below the water again, and a single fingernail traced the length of my cock, slowly, lightly, from base to tip, following the trail of my boiling veins. I was ready to explode. She grabbed my balls, and held them; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my full attention.

"Mine." she whispered in my ear. She tightened her grip, and abruptly released me.

She dried her hands on the towel I had next to the tub. Then she picked up my phone, pressed a few buttons and put it back beside the towel. 

"Meet me inside in fifteen minutes," she said. "I set an alarm on the phone to let you know when it's time. And don't touch yourself while I'm gone. I want you hard for me."

She picked up my towel and my soaking bathing suit and headed for the door.

"Wait!" I yelled after her. "Don't take those!"

She turned. I could see her smile in the rectangle of light cast by the open back door. But she said nothing. The door closed behind her.

It was two months since we had the talk. I hate those talks, the kind that every relationship needs now and then. But I had to do it. Our sex life had virtually collapsed. I was tired of always being the initiator, tired of being turned down for one reason or another. I told Amy how I felt, and she agreed that our sex life was lacking, but it wasn't because she didn't want to. "I'm self-conscious," she explained. "I want to do all these things, but then I think about how fat I am and I can't go through with it."

She was never fat. But over the course of our marriage, she had put on a few pounds, and it was bothering her a lot. We talked about it, and she decided she was going to put more effort into our sex life. She meant it, too. The next day she took out a gym membership and hired a personal trainer. To support her, I started working out too, and pretty quickly, we both started looking and feeling a lot better.

In fact, she looked fantastic. She always had a natural hourglass figure, and when she began losing weight, her waist got even thinner, making her DD boobs look even bigger than they already were. I always wanted her, but as her body got into better and better shape, my desire grew stronger. 

So did hers. She was feeling good about herself, and the sex became more frequent. She even began initiating it. But this was the first time she had ever been this aggressive.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I watched the time crawl past on the phone's illuminated screen. The alarm barely got a beep out before I silenced it, and I launched myself out of the tub like a sea-to-air missile. 

I ran to the back door and turned the handle. Well, tried to. 

It was locked.

Trying to cover my nakedness with my hands, I rapped on the door with a knuckle.

Nothing.

Terrified the neighbours might be watching, I knocked again. "Amy!" I called urgently through my teeth.

Finally, I heard the leisurely clicking of high heels on the four tile steps inside that lead down to our back door. The door opened, and I gasped.

Since the day we met, I'd always wanted to see Amy in a corset. She was built for it, with her slender waist, round hips and huge breasts. But with her body issues, it had never happened. Yet here she was, stood in the lighted doorway, in an expensive-looking green satin corset decorated with black lace. Her breasts were pushed up high above her tiny waist, the pale flesh quivering with every breath she took. Her natural red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders to rest on her magnificent chest. The hard-on I'd almost lost while I waited for her roared back to life as I looked at her, and she smiled.

I stepped forward, my arms reaching for her, my cock brushing against her thigh. She pressed her palm flat against my chest, firmly pushing me back.

"Not so fast," she said. "You want to come in?"

"Yes," I stammered. "Yes, I do!"

"Why?" she demanded.

"Why? I want to fuck you!"

She arched a delicate eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know about that. Look at me."

She placed her hands on her hips, her breasts rising even higher as she drew a deep breath.

"You look amazing!" I said.

"I do, don't I?"

"So sexy," I said. She smiled.

"I don't think you've earned the right to have sex with me looking like this. Do you?"

"What?" I asked, though I heard her perfectly clearly.

"Do you think you deserve to have sex with me?" She breathed deeply again, making her breasts swell out over the corset's lacy top.

"N-no" I tried. Her smile showed her white teeth.

"No, you don't. But maybe, if you're a good boy, you might earn a little treat. Do you want a treat?"

"Yes please," I said.

"Do you want to be a good boy for me?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good. You can start by showing me the proper respect. On your knees."

Humiliated, I dropped to the cold concrete.

"Now kiss my feet."

I looked up at her in disbelief. She stood over me, lit from behind, her hands on her hips. She seemed to tower over me as I knelt in the doorway.

"Do it," she commanded.

I had never seen these shoes before. The black patent leather shone in the light from inside the house. Her feet arched beautifully on the five inch stiletto heels, with her painted toes peeking out of the hole in front. They laced up to the top of her ankles, and they were sexy as hell.

I don't exactly have a foot fetish, but I've always had a taste for sexy heels and boots on women. Especially boots. Amy knew this - she'd worn heels in bed from time to time - but we'd never taken it to this level. I never thought she'd wear a pair of shoes like this.

I planted a kiss on the shiny upper surface of her right boot. Then another on her left. I felt degraded, utterly humiliated, kissing my wife's feet while I knelt naked before her where anyone could see - and I'd never been so turned on.

"Did I say you could stop?" Amy said quietly.

I hurried back to my task, planting passionate kisses all over her feet, from her exposed toes up to the top of her boots and back down. She laughed as she looked down on me, her naked husband grovelling before her.

"You like my shoes?" she asked.

"I love them," I said between kisses. "They're so hot."

"Well, I'm glad you like them," she said, pivoting one foot on its tall heel so I could reach the side of the shoe with my mouth, "because they were expensive. And it's going to be your job to look after them."

"Ok," I mumbled into her toes.

"In fact," Amy went on thoughtfully, "while I've got you here, there's a few things I think I'm going to have you do from now on. Seeing you on your knees like this has got me thinking. You'd do pretty much anything to fuck me right now, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would." I panted. "I want you so bad. You look so fucking hot right now!"

"Don't slobber on my boots. I want them nice and shiny. Clean them with your tongue."

Without hesitation, I did as I was told, running my tongue all over the boot's smooth surface. I heard her laugh again.

"If I'd known how easy it was to make you my little bitch, I'd have done this a long time ago. You are my bitch, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said quietly. My face reddened with shame.

"Say it." she demanded.

"I'm your bitch." I said.

"No, say it properly. Look me in the eye and say, 'I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy'."

"I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy."

"Louder!"

"I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy!"

"Better. It's about time your learned your place. How does it feel, bowing before your wife like this?"

"Good, Miss Amy. I feel degraded, but so turned on. I love this. I love you."

"And you love my boots, don't you? Give them each one more nice big kiss. Good boy."

She turned and walked slowly up the four steps into the house, her thong-bared ass swaying from side to side with each slow step. At the top of the stairs she turned, and I saw her smile as she looked at me, still kneeling naked on the concrete outside with a raging hard-on.

"Come in," she said. I sprang through the door and shut it behind me, relieved to be away from prying eyes. But as I climbed the steps, a glare from Amy stopped me in my tracks.

"Did I say you could walk?" she said angrily.

"Uh...no?"

"No what?"

"No, Miss Amy."

"On your knees, now!"

I dropped to the floor and hung my head in shame. I could see her boots glistening with my saliva on either side of my head.

"New rule: my bitches crawl in this house. Unless otherwise instructed, you will remain naked on your knees at all times like a good little bitch. Got it?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Say it!"

"I will remain naked and on my knees at all times like a good little bitch. I will crawl unless otherwise instructed. I'm sorry, Miss Amy."

"Wow," she sighed. "You really will do anything just to come, won't you?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"I could put a leash on you and lead you round the house like a puppy, couldn't I?"

"Y-yes, Miss Amy."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll keep you locked up in the basement for my amusement, and only let you out when I feel like it. I could keep you caged down there and make you beg me to release you. I could bring my friends down there and we'd all laugh at you as you grovelled and begged. I could make you kneel in front of them and lick their boots too, couldn't I, bitch?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."

"Oh, I'm going to like having a slut like you to boss around. Make you do all the cooking and cleaning, all the chores, make you service me whenever I feel like it and beg for an orgasm. Once in a while I'll even let you have one! If you've earned it, of course."

"Of course, Miss Amy." I'd never heard her talk this way before, never knew she had an imagination like that. But seeing her power over me was awakening something in her; I could hear the excitement in her voice as she spoke. 

"I'll dress you up in little outfits while you serve me, just to humiliate you. Something girly and slutty, since you're such a little slut. Oh, I know! We'll get you a nice French maid's outfit with a frilly little skirt, and you'll serve me and my friends wine and cheese while we chat on the couch. Would you like that?"

"No, Miss Amy," I whispered.

"Of course you would, you slut. You'd love it, kissing my feet in front of my friends, showing them what an obedient little bitch you are. Besides, what you want doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"No, Miss Amy."

"No, it's what I want that counts. And right now, I want you to crawl into that bedroom like a needy little slut and attend to my needs."

I followed her clicking heels into the bedroom and knelt at the edge of our bed. I could hear her rummaging in the bedside table.

I'd bought the handcuffs six months earlier. We'd used them a couple of times, on her and on me. She used them now to secure my hands behind my back and stood in front of me.

"You're not going to need your hands for this," she said by way of explanation. "Now, do you think you deserve a treat?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I pleaded.

"And why do you think so?"

"I've been good, Miss Amy. I did everything you told me. I licked your boots. I crawled for you. I agreed to be your - your boot licking bitch boy."

"You did, didn't you?" she laughed. "I still can't believe how easy it is to control you. But you also stood up without permission."

"Yes Miss Amy. Sorry Miss Amy."

"Well, I'm in a good mood, so I'm going to give you a treat, even though I don't think you deserve it." As she spoke, she peeled off her green thong and slid it down her legs. I watched as she stepped gracefully out of it and sat on the edge of the bed in front of me. I could already smell her arousal. She parted her thighs and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Now" she said, "you're going to make me cum with your mouth. I'm going to cum all over your face, and you're going to lap it up like the little slut you are. Don't you dare spill a drop. Got it?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Beg for it."

"Please, Miss Amy, please let me taste you. Please cum in my face. Please use me for your pleasure." 

As I begged, I watched her slip two fingers inside her pussy.

"Please let me eat your cum like the little slut I am. I know I don't deserve it, but please let me worship you." 

Amy moaned heavily, her breasts bouncing in the corset. 

"I'm your bitch, and I am here only to serve you. You deserve all the pleasure I can give you."

She was panting now, holding my hair with one hand and working on herself with the other, making me watch her orgasm. 

"Please, Miss Amy. I'll do anything. Please cum for me."

Amy cried out, and her body shuddered. She gripped my hair tighter, painfully, as she climaxed. 

"Oh God" she panted, "oh God, that was good."

She released my hair and lay awkwardly back on the bed, the tight corset making movement difficult. I knelt between her legs, gazing at her glistening pussy, while she regained her breath.

Finally, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at me with a predatory grin.

"Mmmm," she moaned, "that was so hot. Did you like that, slut?"

"Yes Miss Amy. May I please lick you now?"

"You may. And it better be even better than that was, or I might have to punish you."

I didn't need to be told twice. I shuffled forward on my knees and went to work.

I've always liked eating pussy, and in the course of seven years, I'd learned exactly how my wife likes it done. I began very gently, knowing she'd be sensitive from her recent orgasm. With the tip of my tongue, I carefully lapped up the juices that had leaked from her pussy onto her thighs. Then I started a trail of tiny kisses along her inner thigh, right to the edge of her swollen pink lips. I paused over her pussy, breathing it in - then started over on the other thigh. I reached her pussy again, and paused for a second, then planted a big wet kiss right on it. Amy hummed softly somewhere above me. I kissed her pussy again, and again. No tongue, not yet; just chaste, tender little kisses. I kissed my way slowly up to her clit, and paused again, breathing on it.

"Lick it" she moaned.

I extended my tongue and brushed the tip against the fleshy nub. She moaned again, and I slowly increased the pressure, using more of my tongue each time. Her legs began to shake. I placed my lips over her clit and began to suck it while I licked with a pulsing motion.

"Mmmm, that's right. Suck it, slut. Make me cum."

Amy ran her hands over her heaving breasts, her corseted waist. Jealous, I was all too aware of the handcuffs restricting my own hands. She really did look fantastic. She was the hottest thing I'd ever seen, writhing on my bed ecstatically in gorgeous lingerie, and I couldn't touch her. I sucked harder. Almost unconsciously, I was rubbing my stiff prick against her patent leather boot.

"You wanna fuck my feet, bitch?" Amy groaned.

"Yes, Miss Amy. Please let me fuck your beautiful feet!"

"Ok, slut. But don't you dare cum! You haven't earned it yet. If you cum, I'm going to make you lick it up."

"Thank you Miss Amy." And I meant it. I was so in thrall to her that I was sincerely thanking my wife for being allowed to rub my erection on her foot.

Amy lifted a leg and rested her other foot on my shoulder, the pointed heel digging into my collarbone. This gave me access to more of her pussy, and I worked my way down her slick lips, slurping up her juices as though my life depended on it. She groaned as my tongue began to probe her hole. 

"Yesss," she hissed. And she scraped a heel down my thigh, hard enough to hurt. 

I went deeper. Thrusting my tongue forward like a weapon, I used my neck muscles to tongue-fuck her. She thrashed on the bed, whimpering and driving her heels harder into my skin. I could feel the walls of her snatch clenching down on my tongue as she got closer and closer to orgasm. The foot that rested on my shoulder slipped down my back, and she trapped my head against her groin with her leg. 

I felt her hands grab my hair again, pulling me in deeper until my whole face was coated with her. She rubbed her pelvis against me, literally fucking my face, my nose rubbing against her clit as I strained my tongue as deep into her as it would go. 

She cried out, and a gush of warm fluid coated my outstretched tongue. She tastes different when she cums. I can always tell.

"Uuhhhhhh!" She gave a long, low moan and released me, flopping back on the bed. Knowing she'd be sensitive, I contented myself with gently cleaning around her pussy, lapping up her fluids from her thighs and sparse red pubic hair. I'd never seen her so wet, never seen her cum so much.

"Fuck," she panted as I carefully cleaned her with my tongue. She had told me not to spill a drop, and I didn't intend to. Besides, I hadn't cum. I was rock hard and more desperate than ever. 

"That was so fucking hot!" she whispered, almost to herself, as though she had forgotten I was there.

"Yes, Miss Amy." I said as I kissed her inner thigh. I could feel her copious juices cooling on my cheeks. She raised her head up from the bed and regarded me, kneeling before her.

"We're definitely doing this again," she smirked.

"Yes Miss Amy," I said eagerly.

"I need to shower. Take off my boots." I looked at her, puzzled.

"What? You don't need your hands for that."

So I bent down to her feet and took the zipper on the side of one shoe between my teeth, pulling it with difficulty down to the sole. She sat on the bed and watched my efforts as I took the thin heel between my lips and teeth and awkwardly pulled the shoe off. She watched me repeat the process with the second shoe.

"Good boy," she said. "Unfortunately, you've got cum from your filthy face all over them. They'll need to be polished."

"Yes Miss Amy."

"And my panties, too. Those got a little damp when I was making you grovel outside. They're too delicate for the machine; you'll take care of that too, won't you?"

"Yes Miss Amy" I said.

"Good. Well, get to it then. I expect those boots gleaming when I'm down with my shower."

"Yes, Miss Amy. Are you going to untie me?" The laugh she gave sent a shiver down my spine and a jolt through my bobbing cock.

"Why would I do that? You look cute in handcuffs. Besides, with a tongue like that, you don't need your hands. Get used to working without them."

"But, Miss Amy..."

"What?" she asked scornfully. "What is it, slut?"

"I - I did what you wanted, and..."

"Oh, you thought I was going to let you cum? You didn't think you'd actually get to fuck me, did you?"


Amy's Bitch Ch. 02



**Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. I made it up. It concerns a married couple who both get sexual pleasure from the wife humiliating and sexually dominating her husband. If that doesn't appeal to you, read something else.**



It's a constant, nagging feeling, like an itch that won't go away. It's a deep, remorseless craving that never stops, not entirely. Every minute of every day, there's some part of my mind that's on her, no matter what I do. Sat in a boring business meeting, I'll see flashes of the shape of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Driving home, my cock will twitch expectantly as I remember the arch of her foot in her expensively slutty shoes, and the moan in her throat as she climaxed while I licked her. Like a dog tethered in the yard, I can only get so far away before I come right back, endlessly circling the stake that keeps me imprisoned.

I'm obsessed with my wife.

That first night, after her shower, she released me from the handcuffs. Not right away, of course. She made a show of inspecting her boots to ensure I'd polished them to her satisfaction. I had. She spread her panties over her fingers to check that I had erased every trace of her juices from the thin fabric. I had. She smiled as she acknowledged that I had followed her instructions to the letter, because she knew why. The bobbing cock at her feet was there to remind her, and me. As long as she got me horny enough, I'd do whatever she said. It was hers now, a fleshy lever she could use to get what she wanted, anytime she wanted. I'd known that for a while, but she'd just discovered it, and the thrill of this new toy was touching some dark place inside her that neither of us suspected was there.

After making me lick her to another orgasm, after making me beg until I was hoarse, she unlocked the handcuffs, and I pounced. I threw myself on top of her and fucked her harder than I'd ever fucked her. After all the teasing, I didn't expect to last long. But I was wrong. We never had sex like that before. She came again and again, and every time her pussy gripped my cock in ecstasy, she threw me off my rhythm. It went on for hours. It went on so long we had to pause for a water break. We fucked until she couldn't walk, couldn't speak, could only moan and cry out and spasm, again and again, pouring her hot juices all over both of us. When we were finally done, the bedroom window was opaque with condensation, the sheets were soaked in cum, and we lay there, side by side, naked and wordless, until we both fell asleep.

That one night changed our relationship. We went on as we had before; she wasn't Miss Amy forever. We did chores and went to work and had sex, without corsets and handcuffs and high heels, the old fashioned sex we had before. But the obsession in me was growing. I was like a teenager again, constantly horny, constantly hard. At thirty-one, I'd thought I was well past the inappropriate hard-on phase. Apparently not.

And this near-constant fever-pitch lust was obvious. I couldn't keep my hands off her, as though we were teenagers who'd just discovered sex. In the aisles of the grocery store, my hand would rest tenderly in the small of her back. Out for dinner, I would trace the shape of her thigh beneath the table. At home, I couldn't pass her in the kitchen without wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her in for a passionate kiss. 

And my lust fed hers. The more I desired her, the more desirable she felt, and it showed. After all, there's nothing as beautiful as a happy, well-fucked woman. She glowed. She changed. The self-esteem issues that almost ruined our sex life were banished. 

I remember the first day she wore a skirt to work. Her office was very casual, and for the three years she worked there, I'd only seen her wear jeans. Until one day, she decided to go with a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and cupped her ass and made her look incredibly sexy, especially in combination with the black patent high heels she bought to go with it. She giggled as my erection pressed against her thigh as we kissed goodbye in the morning. "Down, boy" she said through her teeth, patting my hard-on as she playfully bit my lip, then grabbed her keys and left. She didn't get far past the front door that evening before I had her skirt off and those heels in the air.

She wore skirts and heels to work most days after that.

We were watching TV in the spare room. It's a long story; I have US Netflix in the living room, and Canadian Netflix in the spare room. So sometimes we'll watch TV in there. We can curl up on the queen size guest bed and relax. She was still in her work clothes; a red sleeveless shirt and a tight grey skirt that ended just above the knee. I'd worked out earlier, so was in a T shirt and shorts that did little to hide my excitement. I'd been staring at the way her hip rose in a graceful arc under the skirt as she lay on her side for a while before she looked away from the TV, straight at me.

"God, you're horny, aren't you?" she said.

"Very," I replied.

"I can see it in your face," she smiled. Under the blanket, her fingers walked down my side to my crotch. "Among other places."

I felt her fingers wrap around my shaft.

"You really are hot for me, aren't you?" she asked.

"You have no idea," I replied. "It's bad. All I can think about is fucking you. I can't concentrate at work, I'm hard all the time – it's brutal."

Her hand slid slowly, slowly, upwards, and slowly, slowly, back down.

"And now you dress so sexy, even just to go to work. I want to fuck you all the time. It's not even fair."

Her hand moved again. Up, and down. Up, and down. I could see the blanket tenting as she rubbed me.

"Sometimes I think about the guys you work with. They must be drooling over you constantly. All these tight skirts and high heels – how do they get any work done?"

She laughed at that, throwing her head back, and I leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Well," she said, "that's very flattering. I like having you all revved up like this. I think about it sometimes, when I'm at work, when I can feel guys looking at my ass in those tight skirts you all seem to love so much. I think about how I have a man at home who wants me so bad he'll do anything."

I nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her perfume, and felt her hand tighten on my straining cock.

"You'll do anything, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Her grip tightened further.

"Anything, what?"

"Anything, Miss Amy."

"There's a good slut. Now, get naked and go get the handcuffs."

"Yes Miss Amy."

She lit candles. She took off her shirt. She made me kneel at her feet, of course, and she stood in front of me, fists on her hips, her pale breasts spilling over a black push-up bra I'd never seen before, her legs spread as far as her tight skirt would allow. Her red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders, shining like woven copper in the candlelight.

"Ok, slut," she said, "tonight's your lucky night. I'm going to let you pleasure me. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss Amy" I barked in response, without hesitation.

"Such a well-trained slut," she sneered. "But first, we need to decide what shoes you're going to be grovelling at, don't we?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I panted.

"Yes, Miss Amy," she replied. "Now, remember those heels you bought me when you took me shoe shopping? Those three pairs of slutty boots I let you pick out?"

"Yes, Miss Amy." I was practically drooling. About three weeks ago, I'd talked her into shoe shopping, and we'd spent an entire day with her trying on impractical footwear and me being her willing shoeboy, running to fetch her anything she asked for and kneeling in public to put the shoes on her feet. At the end of the day, she allowed me to pick my three favourites and buy them for her. We'd had great sex that night, but the shoes didn't appear that night, or any other since. Until now.

"Well, each of these three boxes has one of those pairs inside. I'm going to let you pick. Crawl up to the box you want and point with your nose."

I couldn't lose. Every pair was sexy as hell. No matter what I picked, she'd look magnificent. Awkwardly, the handcuffs biting into my wrists, I shuffled towards the bed and pointed at the middle box.

"Ah," she said with a smile, lifting the box's lid towards me so that I couldn't see what was inside, "I like these ones too. Ok, here's what we'll do. I'll put these on, since you're in no condition to do it yourself. But you need to take the rest of my clothes off with your teeth."

"Yes Miss Amy! Thank you Miss Amy!" I practically shouted. She smiled.

"You're so sweet," she said. "But that's not all. Inside each of the boxes, I put a card with a different punishment on it. You didn't know it, but when you picked the shoes I was going to wear, you picked what I was going to do to you while wearing them."

She burst out laughing at the look on my face.

"Oh, honey, don't worry," she said. "I have to remind you of your place, don't I? You need to remember that I have the right to punish you at any time I like, whether you deserve it or not. Sometimes it's just for my amusement. You want me to be happy, don't you?" Her pouting face in the candlelight was at once cruel, mocking and hopelessly sexy. 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I sighed. 

"There's a good little slut. Let me put these on."

She took the shoes from the box and placed them on the floor at her feet. They were ankle boots made entirely of black lace. Her bare feet showed pale through a riot of black flowers, her painted toes peeking from the front. The slender heel was at least six inches tall. The shoes were her; incredibly sexy, without being overly slutty. Hot, but not cheap.

I watched her put them on in slow motion. There were laces that criss-crossed up the front; she pulled them tight and tied them off while I knelt and watched. Finally, she stood.

"Now," she said, her deepening breaths pushing her breasts higher in her bra, "this skirt needs to come off."

I shuffled forward on my knees. She half-turned, and I raised my face to the tiny zipper at the back of her skirt. It took a couple of tries, but I was able to lift the zipper with my tongue until I could grab it with my teeth and pull it down until the skirt started to slide downwards. Her ass cheeks bloomed through the gap, and I couldn't resist kissing her ass. She didn't stop me.

The skirt now loose, I lowered my head to take the hem in my teeth and draw the grey sheath down her legs until it pooled like liquid at her feet. I watched her sexy boots step out from the tangle of fabric and push the skirt aside, its magic gone now that she no longer wore it.

She had no underwear on under the skirt. When did she get rid of that?

"OK, slut," she said, standing proudly above me in her tall heels, "time for some fun. Up on the bed, on your back. Now." She clicked her fingers for emphasis and pointed at the bed, but I was already halfway there. My cock bobbing enthusiastically, I squirmed my way onto the mattress. 

Amy got on the bed and crawled slowly up my body, her eyes locked on mine. Finally, she sat astride my chest, facing me. I could feel the warmth of her pussy on my skin. Her knees pressed against my shoulders. Her heels dug into my sides.

"Time for your punishment" she smiled, and leaned over me, her heavy breasts hanging in my face as she reached for something on the bedside table. I risked a kiss on one of her perfumed tits. She chuckled, and sat straight again. There was a candle in her hand.

"This is not because of anything you did, or didn't do," she began, the candle in her hand slowly circling over me. "You can't stop this by begging or pleading. You're going to endure it because I want to see you suffer. What do you say, bitch?"

"Thank you, Miss Amy" I said.

"You're welcome, slut" she smiled.

The wax was hot. She tipped the candle, and the wax would burn my skin for a while, and she'd laugh and tighten her thighs on my sides. She never hit the same spot twice. It was always new skin, new pain. After a while, she realised that the closer the candle was to my chest, the hotter the wax and the greater the pain. She had a lot of fun varying the height of the candle, watching my face, listening to me plead for her to hold the candle higher and then either accepting or denying my request, according to her whim. It wasn't about anything I did, or didn't do. It was about her pleasure. It always was.

"I've got an idea!" she said suddenly, her eyes wide with excitement. I felt scared. I felt incredibly turned on.

She slid off the bed, and rummaged in a drawer. When she climbed back on top of me, there was something in her hand.

"Say hello to my little friend," she laughed, waving it around. It was bright blue and stubby, and something almost feathery sprouted from its base.

I knew what it was, of course. And if there'd been any doubt, it was removed when she flicked a switch and it started humming as she began to run it up and down her pussy lips.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as the vibrator opened her up. My hands pinned behind my back, all I could do was watch. "Ooohhhh," she gasped, and the bulbous head slipped inside her, the weird feathery appendage making sense now as it tickled her clit and she slowly fucked herself. Right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

After a few more gasps, she withdrew the vibrator. She hadn't cum yet; I marvelled at her self-control. Maybe there was a reason I was the one in handcuffs. She waved the blue plastic under my nose. I could smell her sex on it.

"You want to lick it?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Amy," I said dutifully.

"You want to suck it?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."

"OK," she said sternly as she ran the vibrator along my lips, "I'll let you suck my cock for just a second. Than phase two of your punishment begins."

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. But the smell of her snatch on the vibrator was driving me crazy, and I didn't even think. I took the grotesque blue plastic phallus in my lips, and I sucked every bit of her off it until it was bone dry.

"Good boy," she cooed, watching me under heavy-lidded eyes.

Abruptly she swung a leg over me and straddled me again, facing my feet this time. Looking over her shoulder, she inched towards my face until her ass was all I could see. 

"Now," she said, and wedged something between my thighs, right up against my tightening balls, "keep this here. If you drop it, you'll be fucking sorry, I promise you." It was a candle. I was holding a thin candle between my thighs, and the molten wax was going to drip all over my balls, my cock, my perineum. But I was going to hold it there anyway. Because Miss Amy told me to.

"I'm going to make myself cum with this vibrator. You don't get to watch, but I will allow you to kiss my ass while I do it, ok?"

"Yes, Miss Amy. Thank you Miss Amy."

"Such a good little slut," she cooed.

The wax dripped, and it hurt. After a while, it would start to collect and form an impermeable shield, and then Amy would move the candle so that the wax dropped on fresh skin, to make sure it still hurt. I was in agony; I was in heaven. I heard her panting increase, heard her starting to moan, stopped hearing the vibrator's motor as she plunged it deeper inside herself, burying the sound; I kissed her ass passionately while she masturbated on my chest and tortured my cock and balls. Finally, with a high yell, she came on me. She lifted up on her knees so she could gush her juices all over my chest and stomach, her heels digging into my shoulders. With a sigh, she relaxed onto my dripping chest.

"Well done," she said quietly, leaning her head on my thighs, "you didn't drop the candle. That must have hurt quite a lot."

"Yes Miss Amy" I replied. "But it made you happy."

She let out a long sigh.

"It really did," she said. "Having you suffer for me like this is....well, it's incredible. It makes me feel so desired, so fucking hot. Suddenly I know that I'm an attractive woman; I must be, if I can make you go through this."

"You are," I said, and kissed the soft white globes of her ass cheeks, one after the other. "You're so hot, I can hardly take it."

"Well," she said, swinging her legs over me again and pivoting so that she faced me, "you've been a good little slut. And I believe in rewarding good behaviour. So now, you're going to lick me to one last orgasm before bed."

I didn't need to be told twice.



Amy's Bitch Ch. 03



**Author's note: this is a BDSM story concerning a husband and wife who both get sexual pleasure from her domination of him. If that doesn't interest you, don't read this.**

　　

　　It was summer. The slow death of summer, with the shadows lengthening by the day. Outside, a lawnmower droned somewhere in the warren of suburban streets. The day's heat had dissipated as the afternoon aged, and the air hung still and hazy. I was right where I wanted to be: between Amy's legs.

　　Not that she gave me much choice. My wife, Amy, rules completely in the bedroom. Ever since she discovered this kink of mine, and hers, she has steadily tightened her grip on our sex life. And I love it.

　　We spent much of today shopping. It's a new way she's discovered to tease and torment me; to drag me from store to store while she tries on clothes and shoes and treats me like her errand boy. "Fetch this in a smaller size," she'll order, and off I go to bring her what she wants. Knowing how I like to see her in sexy shoes and boots, she loves to take me to the shoe store and parade around in outrageous heels. "If you're good today," she'll say with that devious smile she's developed, the one that makes my chest tighten, "maybe I'll let you pick out something for me to wear. With my approval, of course." Of course.

　　I must have been good today, because she did let me buy her a pair of boots. Knee high, black patent leather, with a five inch heel, laces up the front and buckles on the side. Amy's closet is rapidly filling with sexy footwear, but these boots might be the hottest pair yet.

　　"I bet you can't wait to see me in those boots, can you?" she asked as we drove home.

　　"No, I can't," I said eagerly.

　　"The thing is, they're not very comfortable."

　　"That's ok; you won't be doing much walking in them." She laughed.

　　"That's true. And if I need anything, I can just send you, and you'll run to fetch whatever I want like a good boy, won't you?"

　　"Y-yes," I said. When she talks like this, I know what's going to happen. I can hear the change in her voice, from the loving wife I have in public to the hypersexual mistress that dominates me behind closed doors.

　　"Yes what?" she said softly, without looking at me. I knew what she wanted.

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I replied.

　　"Louder!" she abruptly shouted.

　　"Yes Miss Amy!" I yelled. From the corner of my eye, I saw her smile. She turned in the passenger seat and leaned against me.

　　"Such a good boy," she purred in my ear, and I felt her hand on my crotch. "So excited to be my little bitch again, aren't you?"

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said, my voice cracking as she rubbed her palm in a small circle against my rapidly hardening cock.

　　"Say it then," she demanded.

　　"Miss Amy, I am very excited to be your little bitch," I said.

　　"And you're going to do exactly as you're told."

　　"And I'm going to do exactly as I'm told."

　　"For the rest of the weekend, you exist only for my pleasure."

　　"I exist only for your pleasure, Miss Amy." I groaned as she abruptly took her hand away.

　　"That's enough of that. We don't want you to get too excited and make a mess, do we?"

　　"No, Miss Amy."

　　"God, I'm wet." I heard her fidget in her seat, and struggled to keep my eyes on the road.

　　"Here," she said, and held a finger to my lips. I could smell her on it. I put my lips around it and tasted her arousal. She giggled.

　　"Just can't get enough, can you, slut?"

　　"No Miss Amy, I can't."

　　"Well", she said, and shifted in her seat again, "better hurry then. If I make myself cum before we get home, I guess I don't need you after all, do I?"

　　From the corner of my eye, I saw her hand slip inside her tight-fitting jeans. The car began to fill with the smell of pussy and the sound of her quiet moans as she masturbated right next to me.

　　It was the fastest we ever made it home from that mall, but it felt like forever.

　　I swung into our driveway carelessly and killed the engine. Amy withdrew her hand from her pants. Her face was flushed, and her breathing a little faster than normal.

　　"You're in luck," she smiled. "We just about made it. But now you owe me an orgasm."

　　"Of course," I grinned.

　　"Ok," she said as her breathing slowed, "I'm going inside. Bring all the bags in, then strip and wait for me. I want you naked and on your knees by the time I'm ready, understand?"

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said. I had a feeling that would be all I'd be saying for the next day and a half.

　　"Come around here and open my door for me." She's good at this, finding little ways to reinforce her power over me, the tiny humiliations that excite us both so much. Like any good chauffeur, I got out and walked around the car to open her door.

　　"Do my pants back up," she ordered. I bent down and reluctantly pulled up the zipper on those skintight jeans as she watched, smiling up at her obedient husband. I offered her my hand and helped her out of the car. Without a word, she strode inside. I gathered up her shopping bags and hurried after her.

　　The bedroom door was closed. Quickly, I set the bags down and tore off my clothes. I'm not scared of Amy, my wife of seven years. She loves me as much as I love her. But Miss Amy? I'll admit that I'm a little bit scared of Miss Amy.

　　I waited, and waited. Kneeling naked on the floor as instructed, my erection pointing towards the bedroom door, towards her. She likes to keep me waiting.

　　After what seemed like an hour but was probably five minutes, the bedroom door opened. Amy stepped out, her red curls floating free around her shoulders. Her pale breasts were held high on her chest by a black push-up bra that laced up the front. I watched, mesmerized, as she walked towards me, her double D breasts jiggling with every step. She wore nothing else. The slight red dusting of her pubic hair was perfectly visible. My only disappointment was that she was barefoot.

　　She stopped in front of me, and dropped a pair of panties on the floor where I knelt. I recognized them as the ones she wore to go shopping.

　　"You've made a mess of those," she said sternly. "You're going to have to clean them."

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said.

　　"Put them in your mouth," she ordered. I balled up the damp underwear and pushed it between my teeth. I could taste her juices through the thin fabric.

　　"That's better," she smiled down at me. "You're not here to talk, are you?"

　　"No Miss Amy," I tried to say, but all that came through the panties was a series of muffled grunts. Amy laughed at me as she sat on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and depriving me of the sight of the pussy I could taste on my tongue.

　　"Alright, slut," she sneered, "you wanted those boots so badly. Crawl over there and get them, then crawl back here and put them on me."

　　Naked, crawling, with her damp panties in my mouth as a gag, I was ecstatic. I quickly removed the boots from their box and brought them to her. I took her extended foot in my hands reverently and slid the boot on. Then I began the task of lacing them tightly, from the top of her foot to just below her knee. Then I buckled the five buckles over the laces, drawing the boots even tighter. The shiny black leather clung to her legs and feet like a second skin. She flexed her foot, admiring the boot for a moment. Then she recrossed her legs so that her other foot was raised, and I began the process again. All the while, she stared cooly down at me, a slight smile on her face.

　　"That's right," she said quietly, almost to herself, "fix my shoes for me, bitch."

　　When I was done, I sat back, my hands at my sides. She stood up and tried a few steps in the tall heels.

　　"What do you think?" she asked. I stared helplessly up at her, and she laughed.

　　"That's right," she said, "nice and quiet. Sluts like you should be seen and not heard. I bet you'd like to kiss these boots, wouldn't you?"

　　I nodded eagerly.

　　"You'd lick them, too, if I told you to, wouldn't you?"

　　I nodded again.

　　"Such a little pervert. I think it's time for these, don't you?" She'd brought the handcuffs from the bedroom. She stood above me with the cuffs dangling from a single finger, her other hand on her hip, her red hair tumbling down to her irresistible cleavage, her exposed pussy level with my face and her shiny black boots at my knees. What could I do? I snapped the handcuffs on myself, securing my hands behind my back.

　　"Good," Amy smiled. "I like my bitches helpless. I can do whatever I want to you." She placed a hand on my shoulder and raised a leg. For a moment I thought she was going to push my face into her pussy, but instead she rubbed the toe of her new boot along the underside of my shaft. I groaned into her panties.

　　"Such a needy, desperate little slut. One of your wife's shoes is all you need, isn't it?" She pushed my cock upwards, the sole of her boot trapping it against my stomach. The thin heel poked at my dangling balls. 

　　"What's this?" she said, her eye caught by something over by the shopping bags. Her foot dropped from my throbbing cock, her heels clicking on the laminate floor. She walked over to the shopping bags and grabbed something.

　　"Yeah, this'll be fun," she said. "Stand up."

　　Cuffed, I struggled to my feet. She stood in front of me again. In her hand she held one of the spare laces from her new boots. Since the boots were tall, the laces were long. She reached out and took my balls in her hand. 

　　"Hold still," she said, and began to wind the lace tightly around my scrotum. Then she wrapped it around the shaft of my cock, leaving only the head exposed. Finally, she tied it off, leaving a long lace dangling. She took the lace in her hand and gave it a tug, making my trussed-up cock and balls bounce. She laughed and clapped her hands, giddy as a schoolgirl.

　　"This is perfect! Now I really have you by the balls, don't I?" She tugged the lace a few more times, then began to walk away from me. I had no choice but to follow.

　　She led me up and down the hallway, twice around the living room, then down to the basement, where she stood still in the center of the room and had me walk around her while she tugged at the lace and laughed at my predicament. Finally, she lead me back upstairs.

　　"I like this," she smiled at me over her shoulder, "having my bitch on a leash. Men should be leashed like animals, don't you think? Get used to this, because you'll be leashed a lot from now on."

　　She lead me into the bedroom and pushed me onto the bed, my cuffed hands trapped beneath me. She reached down and tied the lace to the bedframe, pulling my erect cock painfully downwards. Then she climbed on top of me, sitting on my chest. I could feel her boot's cool leather against my ribs. 

　　"I need your mouth" she said, and plucked her soaked panties from between my teeth. Before I could say a word, she shuffled forward and sat on my face.

　　

　　The lawnmower was still droning, the sun sinking further towards the horizon, a shaft of long golden light entering our bedroom through the half-drawn curtains. Amy leaned on the window sill like a cat basking in the sun, her eyes closed, her breasts straining the laces of her bra as her breathing quickened. I saw none of that. My world had shrunk down to the hot damp space between Amy's shaking thighs, and I licked and kissed and sucked her pussy for as long as she would let me. My bound cock throbbed, unused and ignored. I existed for her pleasure. I felt the hot eruption of her orgasm on my face, and I slowed my aching tongue. It was her third so far. I let her regain her composure, tenderly kissing the sensitive folds.

　　I heard the window slide open. A blast of cooler air entered the room.

　　"Hi," I heard Amy say.

　　"Hi." A man's voice.

　　There's a bus stop outside our house. Our bedroom window faces it. She leaned on the windowsill, her breasts bouncing as her orgasms rocked her body, the light from the setting sun igniting her red hair, and a man at the bus stop couldn't help himself. He came over.

　　"Looks like you're, uh, having a good time there" he said.

　　"Just enjoying the fresh air" Amy panted. It was still light outside, and dark in our bedroom. There was no way he could see me, or anything past Amy's flushed face and her spectacular cleavage, glistening with sweat. Could he smell her cum? I was drenched in it. Shocked, I had stopped licking, but a kick in the ribs from Amy's boot reminded me what I was there for. I licked, and listened.

　　"Looks like you're enjoying it a lot," the man said.

　　"Could be better," Amy replied. "I could have a man to share it with."

　　Here I was, handcuffed, tied to the bed by my balls, eating my wife's pussy and listening to her flirt with another man! I was in turmoil. My bound cock raged.

　　"Well, I'm here," the man said.

　　"Hmmm. I'm not sure if you're what I'm looking for," Amy said breathily.

　　"Why don't I come inside and show you?" the man asked. 

　　"Oh, I don't think my husband would like that," Amy said, "but he's busy right now. Why don't you show me now?"

　　"What - here?" the man asked.

　　"Yes, here," said Amy. "Those bushes block the view from the road. No one but me will see it."

　　Was she asking him to get his cock out? I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

　　"I - I...." the man hesitated.

　　"Afraid you won't measure up?" I could hear the smirk in Amy's voice. And I heard something else: a zipper, and a rustle of cloth.

　　"Oh, my," Amy purred, and I drove my tongue deep into her dripping snatch, "look at that. Very nice. Maybe I can just -"

　　Her weight shifted, and I craned my neck to keep lapping at her cunt. Was she touching a stranger's dick?

　　I heard her moan, and I heard him grunt. I heard a wet sound, and I felt her shift around above me. If I had any doubt about what was going on, Amy soon removed it.

　　"Yeah, suck my tits," she gasped. She had her husband licking her pussy and a stranger from the bus stop sucking her sensitive nipples. In no time at all, she came again, the loudest and wettest one yet. 

　　"Oh, God," she panted over and over, "oh, God."

　　My head slumped back against the mattress, my mouth full of her. I heard the man outside grunt; it seemed Amy had been nice enough to finish him off.

　　"Lady, you're - you're something else..." he gasped.

　　"Looks like your bus is coming," Amy said, and slid the window shut.

　　Amy sat back on my chest, her wetness pooling on my skin. She leaned back, resting her head on my thigh, her red curls tickling my tormented cock. She placed her feet either side of my head. I could see her dripping pussy, and my cock was as hard as the laces would allow.

　　"Holy fuck that was good," she gasped. I sighed. She raised her head.

　　"You may speak, bitch," she grinned at me.

　　"Amy, that was - I can't believe you did that! A total stranger! That's -"

　　"What?"

　　"Just - wow. I - I don't know what to say."

　　"Did it turn you on?" she asked.

　　"That's - I mean, I..."

　　"I think it did. I think this," and she tugged sharply on the lace tied to my cock, "proves it. I think you liked hearing your wife flirt with another man while you lay there helpless."

　　"I - I didn't hate it," I said finally. "It was just - intense."

　　"Maybe we should have discussed it first. I just get lost in the scene sometimes. Drunk with my own power. That's why I like doing this. I feel so sexy, like I can do anything. Like there are no limits. But if it's too much, we'll stop." It was Amy talking now, not Miss Amy. My beautiful wife, not my sexy mistress. I thought for a moment.

　　"No," I said. "I want you to keep pushing me. I don't know where this is going to take us, but it excites me. I love you more than ever, even when you're being cruel. I was just shocked, that's all."

　　"But turned on?" she smiled.

　　"Yeah," I smiled reluctantly, "it was pretty hot."

　　"Good," Amy said, wrapping a hand around my tied balls, "because it was the hottest thing I've ever done. It felt so dirty, but so good. So we're good?"

　　"We're good," I replied.

　　"Good," she echoed, and her voice changed. She was Miss Amy again. "Because a moment ago, you failed to address me with the proper respect, and I might have to teach you a lesson." I grunted as her hand tightened around my balls. "But I'm going to give you the opportunity to beg for my forgiveness. On the floor, now." Untying the lace from the bedframe, she swung her legs over my head and sat on the edge of the bed. I struggled off the mattress and knelt before her. 

　　"You're going to grovel before me. But because I'm so nice, I'm going to make it easier for you." She rubbed her hand against her pussy, scooping up some of her juices. I watched as she smeared her cum on both her boots. 

　　"Ok, you may begin. Lick the cum off my boots and beg for my forgiveness while I decide what to do with you."

　　I bowed at her feet and began to worship her boots. Her cum never tasted so good.



Amy's Bitch Ch. 04



**Disclaimer: this is a story about a wife who sexually dominates and humiliates her husband. If that's not for you, read something else** 

***** 

"I've got...an idea..." 

I'm starting to get used to Amy's ideas. 

For years, our marriage was pedestrian. Not unhappy, not by any means. The only fly in the ointment was our sex life. Sex was infrequent, and unimaginative. Hard to believe that now. Now, Amy is the creative force behind our sexual escapades. She's revealed an almost uncanny knack for understanding my fetishes and predilections, and using them against me. Well, maybe not against me. Truth be told, I love our new sex life. Even if her ideas often end in my humiliation or physical pain. Maybe because of that. I'm never happier or hornier than when she's using me for her own pleasure. I can't believe it took us so long to discover that. 

And she knows my weaknesses. Bringing up her latest idea while she rides my cock, her red curls floating around us in the lamplight while she bounces on top of me, my balls tight against me and ready to explode into her pulsing pussy - she knows what she's doing. So do I. But neither of us want it to change. 

"Yeah?" I pant. I'm getting close, and she knows it. When I'm about to come, there's almost nothing I wouldn't agree to. She bites her lip, and smiles. 

"Yeah," she gasps, her voice catching as she approaches an orgasm of her own. Another one. "I'm thinking...you could be my...slave...all weekend...oh!" We moan together as her hot ussy clamps down on my cock in a prelude to orgasm. Her silky walls feel so good around my cock, and I'm so close. 

"Oh...yes," I pant. "Yes." Her eyes are closed now, her head thrown back. Her naked breasts hand temptingly above me, bobbing with her movements. The truth is, she could have asked me that during dinner, and I'd agree. I love it when she controls me. 

"Yes what, bitch?" she whispers. 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I reply. She moans as I speak, her power over me bringing her to the edge of orgasm. 

"You'll be...my little bitch...for forty-eight hours...and do...what I say...no matter what?" 

"Yes, Miss Amy!" I cry out. I'm so close, at that point where nothing seems to matter, as long as I get to come. 

"Promise?" she gasps. 

"Promise!" 

"No matter what?" 

"No matter what!" 

"Oh!" she cries out, her pussy spasming around me as she squirts her copious juices on my cock. Her orgasm sets off mine, the come exploding from my boiling balls to coat the slick walls of her pussy with pleasure. We pant, and moan, and she collapses on top of me, her legs trembling as her orgasm races through her. Finally, her body shining with sweat in the lamplight, she slides off me. Laying down beside me, she lays her head on my shoulder, her hand flat against my chest. Her fingers toy gently with the hair on my chest. Our breathing slowly returns to normal. 

"Fuck," I say, "that was good." I feel her cheek press against my chest as she smiles. 

"Not bad for a Tuesday night," she says. Still out of breath, I nod. The sweat cools on our bodies as we lie together in silence. 

"So...mine for the weekend, huh?" I feel her smile again. 

"I guess so," I say. Now that I've come, the prospect makes me more nervous than it did. Amy's gotten very good at pushing my boundaries and making me go further than I ever thought I would. She's never dominated me for more than a few hours at a time. Who knows what diabolical schemes she'll dream up to occupy a whole weekend? 

"Good," she sighs. "Better take it easy for the rest of the week, then, because I have some big plans. No more orgasms for you, I think. Of course, I'll still be needing my daily cum." 

"Of course," I smiled. As frustrating as it is for me, I love when she's selfish like this. And I love going down on her. Honestly, if I had to choose, I dont know which I prefer; fucking my wife, or eating her sweet pussy. Luckily, I don't have to choose. And for this week, it looks like the choice has been made for me. 

"Ok, two things right off the bat, though. You won't be coming this weekend either. This weekend is about my pleasure, not yours, ok?" 

"Ok," I smiled. That's become a pretty regular thing in our sex life. Amy's pleasure comes first, always. But since I get my pleasure from pleasing her, we both win. 

"Second thing. You'll like this." Amy snuggled closer against me, her head burrowing into my shoulder. Her teeth tugged lightly on my earlobe. My sticky cock began to twitch again. 

"Britney's coming to town for the weekend," she whispered. I froze. Feeling my body stiffen, Amy chuckled in my ear. 

* * * * 

Let me explain. Britney and Amy were friends before I ever met her. It's a cliche, but it's the truth - Amy and I met at a bar. We were young then, and partying was a priority. Especially for Amy. Every weekend she'd be out, with Britney and her other friends, hitting bars and clubs and getting increasingly wild as the night went on. 

But that was then. We've been married for seven years; together for nine. We're not as young as we were. Amy and I gradually stopped partying as other things became a priority. Eventually, I started a business in a different province, and Amy and I moved away from the life we knew, settling down in the suburbs the way married people do. 

Britney didn't change. She was a party girl through and through. She was still partying now; some people never get tired of it. Britney was a wild one, no doubt about that. Approaching thirty now, she still partied as hard as any college kid out there. She'd never settled down, and seemed to have no intention of ever doing so. Why should she? Looking the way she did, she had no problem meeting men. She'd get bored of one, and find another. I can't remember her ever staying with a single person for more than six months, and I suspect she might have cheated on him. Britney, basically, was hot as hell, and she knew it. And I knew it. And Amy knew it. And now, it seemed, she was going to use it. 

* * * * 

"Friday's not the weekend." 

"Friday is totally the weekend." 

"Nope. Friday's a weekday. You go to work. Therefore, not the weekend." 

"Friday daytime is the week. Friday night is the weekend." 

"No, no, no. The weekend starts Saturday morning," I insisted. Amy sighed, exasperated. 

"Ok, fine. How about midnight Friday to midnight Sunday. Is that the weekend?" I considered my answer. 

"I suppose so," I said carefully. 

"Ok, agreed," she said. She put her book down. I felt her weight shift on the bed. She grabbed the headboard, and suddenly her knees were pinning my arms to the mattress. My own book fell from my hand to the floor. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked. 

"What does it look like?" Amy replied above me. My head between her legs, I had a front row seat as her hand slipped inside her panties and began working on her pussy. Unable to move my arms, all I could do was watch. Predictably, my cock began to swell. 

"I need my daily orgasms," Amy went on, "and since my husband isn't willing to do his job, I have to take care of myself." 

"I'll give you your orgasms," I said, my breath catching as I spoke. Transfixed, I watched a dark spot of dampness appear on the fabric of her panties. The bedroom filled with the scent of her pussy. I was rock hard now, my cock pointing uselessly at the ceiling. She wasn't going to use it, and we both knew it. 

"Oh, I don't know," Amy sighed. "I think I'm better off taking care of myself. You don't want any of this, do you?" 

"Yes I do. You know I do," I panted. I knew I wasn't going to get to cum, and I didn't care. I wanted to taste her pussy. We both knew it. 

"Well, I kind of feel like if you really wanted this, you'd be willing to pick my friend up from the airport." 

That was the crux of the matter. Amy felt my slavery should begin Friday after work, so that she could order me to pick Britney up from the airport. I disagreed. Not that a drive to the airport was that big of a deal. But in all honesty, I was scared to be humiliated in front of another woman. I knew it was going to happen this weekend. But like a convict on death row, I was doing everything I could to delay the inevitable. 

But no one could ever get inside my head the way Amy could. 

"Fine," I sighed, inches away from her damp pussy. "Fine. I'll pick her up from the airport." 

"Just for a taste of this pussy?" Amy beamed, her fingers writhing under the thin fabric of her panties. The dark spot of arousal grew. 

"Just for a taste of that pussy," I agreed. High above me, Amy laughed. Her knees lifted off my arms momentarily as she peeled her panties off. Then she sat back down, pinning me in place again, her moist pussy hovering over my face. 

"I won't make you do anything embarassing on Friday," she conceded. "All you have to do is pick her up. We'll save the slave stuff for Saturday." 

"Ok," I said, relieved. Amy spread her knees, forcing my arms outwards as she lowered her dripping snatch towards my mouth. Her scent filled the air. 

"But I do want you to wear panties," she said softly. "Specifically, these panties. The ones I just creamed myself in. No one will know except you and me." 

"Ok," I said again. The smell of her was turning my head, as though her arousal was some sort of drug that could get me to agree to anything. She laughed. She knew it too. 

"Ok, bitch," she chuckled, "kiss my clit if you agree." Without a moment's hesitation, I raised my head to plant a passionate kiss on her swollen button. She laughed again, and I hovered close, my neck muscles straining as I held my head against her sex. 

"What?" she asked innocently. "I didn't say stop." Wordlessly, gratefully, I licked and kissed her pussy until she coated my face with her juices. 

* * * * 

Friday. I was unreasonably nervous. Amy had told me she wouldn't humiliate me today, and I believed her. But I knew tomorrow held no such guarantee. 

Amy squealed in delight when Britney walked out of the airport. The two friends hugged. Britney was wearing jeans and a grey wool cardigan over a black Metallica T shirt, yellow leather boots clicking on the cement as she walked. Her dirty blond hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a pair of thick black framed glasses perched on her nose. It was a casual look well suited to a day of travel, but I could see that in the years since I last saw her, she had lost none of her inate sexiness. My cock twitched, restrained by the damp panties Amy had ordered me to wear. 

Their embrace ended, Britney turned to me. 

"Hey, Brian!" she beamed, her outstretched arms wrapping around me in a fierce hug. She always was the demonstrative type. Was it just me, or was she pressing her pelvis against my crotch, more than was strictly necessary? It didn't matter. My cock was hard, but Amy's panties kept it pressed against me with no room to expand. Otherwise, there's no doubt she would have felt me against her thighs. 

The hug broke. A gentleman, I fetched Britney's suitcase and hoisted it into the back of my truck. Maybe it was the arousal. Maybe it was the panties. Maybe I was simply trying to curry favour for what I knew would be a long and painful weekend. But in a burst of inspiration, I sprang to the door of my truck and held it open for Britney to step inside. "Thank you," she said warmly, taking her seat. Amy climbed into the passenger seat, and Britney leaned forward, her chin on the back of Amy's chair. "You've got him well trained, don't you?" she smiled as I climbed into the drivers seat. 

"You have no idea," Amy smiled darkly. 

* * * * 

Back at home, the girls opened a bottle of wine and settled in for hours of talking. At first I sat with them, but it soon became apparent that my presence was not required. By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, I yawned theatrically and said goodnight. The girls barely acknowledged my farewell, lost in some hysterical chatter. 

In bed, I lay staring at the ceiling, my cock pulsing. Time after time, I'd reach for it, only to stop myself. Amy had forbidden me from cumming. I could probably get away with it. Then again, what if I didnt? Amy's punishments were no laughing matter. I could hear the girls laughing in the next room as I drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

I woke with my cock thick and ready to burst in my hand. Clearly, my dreams had been erotic. No surprise there. But I hadn't come. Amy still slumbered next to me as the sunlight leaked through the curtains, throwing flowing shadows on the wall. 

It was Saturday morning, and I was a slave. But Miss Amy lay asleep. I had no orders. I knew that this might be the only respite I got all wekend. But I also knew that the best way to make my weekend bearable was to please my dominant wife. I threw the covers over my head, slid her panties out of the way with a finger, and began to lick Miss Amy awake. 

Her pussy responded almost immediately, and I lapped up her honey as her lips swelled against my mouth. I heard her breathing change. Maybe she was awake, but she gave no sign of it. I lapped at her glistening lips, slurping up her juices, pausing to suck and nibble on her eager clit, and in no time, her gushing cum was coating my lips and cheeks and leaving a pungent puddle on the bedsheets. 

Her hand seized my ear, and twisted it. She was awake now. She pulled my wet face up from her moist crotch to meet her gaze, regarding me coolly over the swell of her voluptuous breasts. Her eyes were glazed with her recent orgasm. I took some pride in that. 

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" she sneered down at me. 

"No, Miss Amy," I panted, her cum cooling on my face. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Please forgive me." She smiled slowly. This submissiveness was a calculated ploy, and she knew it. As much as the thought excited me, I was still fearful of being exosed to Britney. Maybe if I was a good little bitch, Miss Amy would spare me that humiliation. Maybe. 

No. 

"Today's the day, bitch," she hissed. "You're going to do what you're told, like a good little slut, aren't you?" She twisted my ear again as she spoke. 

"Yes Miss Amy!" I yelped. 

"Good. My first order is this: you obey Britney the same as you obey me. If my orders contradict hers, you follow mine. Otherwise, you do as she says." 

"Yes Miss Amy," I said, and she tugged on my ear, forcing my face back down towards her cum-damp cunt. I reached for it eagerly, my tongue stretching towards the glistening lips, but she held me in place, just beyond reach. "Look at that," she whispered. "Look at my pussy. Just look at it. It rules you, doesn't it?" 

"Yes Miss Amy," I panted. My cock pressed hard against the mattress as I gazed at her snatch. Involuntarily, I licked my lips. I wanted it badly, and Amy could tell. 

"This is why all women are superior to you. Understand? We have the pussy, so we make the rules. Got it?" 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I panted. She was right. I wanted to fuck Britney almost as much as I wanted to fuck my wife. But what I really wanted was to bow down and worship their gorgeous pussies. Amy was right. I was willing to concede that women are superior, that they deserve whatever pleasure they can get from men. And I was lucky enough to be the only man in this house, with two gorgeous women to serve. 

"Then say it," she demanded. 

"You have the pussy, so you make the rules," I said humbly. 

"Good boy," Amy said, abruptly releasing my ear. "Now go make us some breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice. Make enough for me and Britney. You can have our left overs." I scrambled to my feet, eager to serve. My cock had burst free from Amy's panties during the night, and now it stood pointing at the ceiling, pulsing with arousal. Amy scowled at it. 

"Now that won't do, will it?" she said, almost to herself. "Can't have that ugly thing poking out like that. Especially when it's not going to get used at all this weekend. Make it go away," she ordered. 

"But, Miss Amy," I gasped, "I can't. I'm so turned on, and if I can't cum..." I let the unspeakable hang in the air between us. The quickest way to get me flaccid was to let me cum. We both knew it. But we both also knew that I'd be far less willing to serve once I'd cum. 

"Guess I have to do everything myself," she sighed grumpily. Getting up from bed, she walked into the kitchen and came back with a bag of frozen peas. I winced as she pressed them against my stiff cock. It was unpleasant, but it worked. Soon my dick was hard enough to slip back into her panties. 

"That's better," Amy smiled, handing my the peas. "Put these back and get started on breakfast." 

"Dressed like this?" I asked incredulously. I was wearing nothing but Amy's tiny panties. 

"No, of course not," Amy smiled wickedly. "I'm not that mean. You can wear my apron too." 

There was no point arguing with her. She aimed to humiliate me in front of her friend, and it was going to happen sooner or later. Maybe it was better just to get it over with. I slunk into the kitchen and put Amy's apron on over the panties I was wearing while she snuggled back into bed. 

I'm not really much of a cook. Breakfast is about the only thing I can make adequately well. But when I had it all cooked and the girl's plates piled high with food, I had to admit it looked pretty good. Not that I was going to get to have any of it. 

I brought Amy's plate and a glass of orange juice to the dark bedroom. She smiled and sat up as I approached. 

"Oh, that looks good," she said, taking the plate on her lap. "Is Britney up yet?" 

"Not yet," I replied. The whole time I was cooking in the kitchen, I had been waiting to hear the door to the guest room open, to hear Britney's footstep on the floor, to hear her laughter when she saw me. But it hadn't happened. Yet. 

"Well, go take her a plate," Amy ordered. I gulped nervously and did I was told. Still wearing an apron and panties, I knocked gently on teh door to our guest room. "Britney?" I called quietly through the door. To my dismay, I heard her shift in bed. I was hoping she wouldn't wake up. 

"Yeah?" she called through the door. 

"Would you like some breakfast?" I heard her shift again. 

"Hell, yeah," she said enthusiastically. 

"Can I come in?" 

"Sure." 

There was nothing for it. I opened the door and walked into our spare room dressed as I was. Britney's eyes widened when she saw me. She sat up in bed, her shoulders bare, the blanket tucked tight under her arms. My cock twitched in Amy's panties at the sight of her. She fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table and put them on, looking me up and down as a slow smile spread across her face. 

"Here," I mumbled as I handed her the plate. My face was turning crimson under her measured appraisal. 

"That's quite the outfit you have on there," Britney grinned. "Got anything under that apron, or is this my welcome gift?" If it was possible to blush any deeper, I would have. 

"Just - underwear," I stammered. I half-turned to leave when Britney snagged the corner of the apron, pulling it aside enough for her to get a quick look as I rushed to the door. 

"Oh my god, you're wearing panties!" She howled with laughter. Mortified, I ran out of the room, her laughter pursuing me down the hall. Back in the bedroom, I found Amy chuckling to herself as she ate her breakfast. Evidently she had heard Britney's laughter. 

"Oh my god, that was embarrassing," I grumbled. 

"Well, the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it honey?" Amy smiled sweetly. "Besides, if you think that was embarassing, wait until you see what else I'm going to make you do. I mean, what's the point of having a slave if I can't show you off to my friends?" I hung my head in shame, but my cock twitched at her words. The idea of being made to do things by my wife was sexy to me, even if it meant humiliation. Amy chewed her breakfast in silence and I stood attentively by the bed, wondering what was going through her mind. Finally, she pushed her plate aside. 




Amy's Bitch Ch. 04



"Take the apron off," she said. I did, standing before her in only the skimpy panties she had made me wear last night. Her eyes passed slolwly up and down my body. She saw the bulge of my half-hard cock constricted by the tight fabric, and she smiled. "See, I like this," she said firmly. "You're not naked, but I can see if you're turned on. Just make sure you don't get too excited and pop out again, honey, ok? No one wants to see that silly little thing." Amy rose from bed and began to put some clothes on. "Now, go put some coffee on and meet us in the living room. Me and Britney have some catching up to do." 

By the time I had the coffee prepared, both girls were sitting on the living room couch. I could hear them laughing as they talked. I put the cups on a tray and went to join them. A silence fell as I entered the room. I placed the cups on the coffee table and retreated. Guessing Amy wouldn't want me to sit, I simply stood in a corner like a waiter, ready to serve. Britney took a leisurely sip of her coffee. She looked at me, and smiled. 

"So what's with the panties?" she finally asked. 

"Oh, me and Brian have a little deal worked out. Don't we, honey?" 

"Yes," I mumbled, my eyes on the floor. 

"What kind of a deal?" Britney asked. 

"Well, Brian's going to be our slave for the weekend. He's going to do as he's told, and treat us with the respect we deserve." 

"Sounds good," Britney grinned. "What does he get out of it?" 

"The pleasure of pleasing his wife," Amy said, and the two women laughed again. "If he's really, really, really good, I might let him cum at the end of the weekend. Maybe. Although so far, I have to say he hasn't really displayed the necessary enthusiasm, so that's looking unlikely right now." 

"So, is he like, your slave, then?" Britney asked, her eyes wide with astonishment. 

"Tell her, Brian," Amy ordered imperiously. "Tell Britney what you are." 

"I'm your little bitch, Miss Amy," I sighed. 

"Louder!" 

"I'm your little bitch Miss Amy!" 

"Good boy," Amy smiled. 

"Holy fuck, this is hot," Britney grinned. "I had to idea you were into this kinky stuff. I've always wanted to be Mistress Britney." 

"Well, Brian's under orders to obey you this weekend just the same as he would me. So let me know if he's slacking off." 

"So, like, what do you do with him?" Britney asked. I could see the spark of arousal in her eyes. This situation was turning her on. The panties tightening around my thickening shaft were proof it was turning me on, too. 

"Whatever I want. Brian, come here," Amy ordered. I stepped forward. Amy pointed at the floor in front of the couch where they sat. "Kneel," she sneered. "Show your superiors the proper respect." I knelt on the cold floor, head bowed, my hands behind my back. "Tell Britney all about the things I do to my little slut." Britney sipped her coffee in silence, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. 

"Well," I began, and had to clear my throat. My nerves were jangling. "Miss Amy makes me lick her boots." A bright peal of laughter split the sunny air as Britney hooted with merriment. Amy laughed with her as I continued. "She makes me lick her panties clean. She makes me hand wash all her underwear. She ties me up and makes me go down on her." 

"That's his favorite," Amy added helpfully. 

"Wait a second," said Britney. "I feel like I should be getting a foot rub while I hear about this." Extending her leg, she placed her bare foot in my crotch. I glanced up at Amy to see a stern look on her face, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I understood. Taking Britney's foot in my hand, I began to massage her sole. 

"She makes me beg." 

"For what?" 

"For orgasms. To go down on her." 

"Oh that's awesome!" Britney erupted again. "Some guys you have to beg them to do that, and he's begging you? What else does your mean wife make you do?" 

"She tied my balls up with a shoestring and led me around the house. Then she tied my balls to the bed and sat on my face." 

"You bitch!" Britney shrieked, playfully swatting at Amy's arm. "That's awesome!" 

"That's not all. Tell her what I was doing while you were licking me." I hesitated. In a long list of humiliating actions, Amy was forcing me to relive the most humiliating of all. I took a deep breath. 

"While I licked her, Miss Amy was making out with a stranger through the window." 

"What?!" Britney yelled. "You slut!" 

"Not just making out," Amy smiled. "He was sucking on my boobs and I jerked him off." 

"Oh my god, Amy," Britney gasped, "that's insane! I thought I was supposed to be the wild one! I always thought marriage must be boring, but - holy shit!" The girls fell back against the couch in fits of laughter. Wordlessly, Britney removed her foot and placed the other one in my lap. I began massaging that one. I don't have a foot fetish. I love women's feet in shoes and boots, but bare feet do nothing for me. However, the sheer humiliation of rubbing another woman's feet while I degraded myself for her entertainment was making my cock throb in my wife's panties. 

"Tell Britney what happened after that," Amy demanded. 

"After the man left, Amy wiped her cum on her boots and I grovelled on the floor and licked up all of her cum," I said. 

"Wow," Britney said again. "And why do you do all this? Why do you let her treat you like this?" Not an easy question to answer. I rubbed Britney's soft sole with circular motions of my thumbs while I thought about it. 

"It turns me on," I admitted. "I want her so badly that I'll do almost anything. And the crueller she is, the more turned on I get." 

"He's not joking," said Amy. "Look at him, getting all hard in his panties. Is rubbing my friend's feet getting you all hot and bothered, bitch?" 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I sighed. 

"Oh my god," said Britney, shaking her head. But I noticed she didn't move her foot away. She rested her heel high on my thigh, mere inches from my straining member. "This is just too good. I gotta admit, I'm a little jealous. I mean, I've done some tie-up games and stuff. But to have an actual slave like this? It's fucking hot, Amy." 

"Well, what's mine is yours, Brit," Amy smirked. My heart sank. I wanted to serve Britney the way I served Amy. But I feared it, too. 

"I might just take you up on that," Britney said. Her eyes regarded me coolly down the length of her leg as I tried to hide my hard-on behind her foot. She inched down a little on the sofa, and suddenly her foot was against my cock, rubbing it slowly. My eyes rolled back in my head as a wave of pleasure washed over me. 

"Careful, Brit," Amy warned. "He isn't allowed to cum this weekend." 

"Pity," Britney smirked, and withdrew her foot. I almost cried out as she pulled away; I had been so close! "What happens if he does? Do you whip him or something?" Britney was looking at me as she spoke. They were both looking at me. I cowered under their gaze, kneeling at the feet of two goddesses. My cock was ready to explode. 

"I don't have a whip," Amy said thoughtfully. "I did punish him once, though. I dripped candle wax all over him, then made him hold a candle between his legs while he watched me use a vibrator on myself. Then I made him clean the vibrator with his mouth. And he didn't get to cum that night." 

"How often does he get to cum?" Britney asked. 

"Depends on my mood," Amy answered. "We're not like this every day; it'd be exhausting. Most of the time our sex is pretty normal. But now and again I like to dominate him, and the key is to keep him horny. He'll do anything once I get his little pecker hard, won't you, bitch?" 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I dutifully replied. 

"For instance, he hasn't cum since Tuesday. That's when I told him you were coming to town, and that he wasn't going to be allowed to cum until you left again. Meanwhile, I've been having two or three orgasms a day, every day. I make him go down on me, then send him to bed with a hard on. The look on his face is priceless." 

"How do you know he's not jerking off when you're not around?" Amy stared me down as Britney spoke. I shrank before her cold stare. 

"He wouldn't dare," Amy said finally. Smiling, Britney raised her coffee cup. 

"I think I need a refill," and her brow crinkled in a slight frown, "uh - what do you call him?" 

"Anything demeaning," Amy smiled. "Usually I go with 'slut' or 'bitch'. He's my little bitch, and he does it because he needs sex so badly, like a slut. Plus, those are names men have been using against women forever. About time they got some back." 

"Ok," said Britney, smiling wide as she held out her cup to me, "go get me a coffee, bitch." With the sound of feminine laughter ringing in my ears, I took the ladies' cups out to the kitchen for a refill. When I got back, Amy had produced her laptop and the two girls were looking at something on the screen. Amy glanced up as I placed the coffee cups down. 

"Knees," she ordered, and I dropped to the floor. "Hands and knees. Face that wall. Head down." I did as I was told, on all fours facing the wall beside the sofa. I felt Amy rest her feet on my back as though I was a piece of furniture. Soon after, I felt Britney do the same. Completely ignored, I served as a piece of furniture while the ladies cackled over something they were looking at online. 

"Look at that!" Britney gasped. 

"Is that - oh my god!" Amy laughed. "I don't know about that one. I don't know if I could." 

"Yeah, but just think about...you know..." More laughter. 

"I kind of like the look of that," Amy said. "How does that...oh, I see." 

It took me a moment to realise that they were shopping for something online. And they were doing their best not to tip me off about what it was. My mind raced with all kinds of filthy possibilities, my pulse pounding with arousal. Amy is so creative when it comes to humiliating me. Now she was letting another woman decide what would be done to me, while I served as their footstool. My balls ached, tingling on the edge of orgasm. The slightest touch would set me off. But no one was going to touch my cock. Not for a long time. 

After what seemed like hours, the girls seemed to have made their purchases. 

"Just a shame I won't be here when they arrive," Britney sulked. 

"Oh, don't worry," Amy smiled. "I'm sure this little bitch won't mind flying you out again to help with his training." Fuck. These women were driving me crazy. 

"Say thank you for the presents, bitch-boy," said Britney above me. 

"Thank you," I said quietly. 

"That's not how you thank a woman, slut," Amy tutted. I felt the weight on my back shift slightly. One of Britney's feet hovered in front of my face. 

"Yeah, bitch," Britney said, her voice suddenly quiet and menacing. "Kiss my foot and thank me properly." I raised my head and kissed the cool skin on the top of her foot. 

"Thank you for the presents, Mistress Britney," I said humbly. 

"Oh, so polite," Britney mocked. She turned to Amy. "So, should we head out?" 

"Yeah," Amy said. Her feet lifted from off my back as she stood. "Now, bitch, me and Britney are going out shopping. We're going out tonight and need new outfits. When we come back, I expect the floors vaccuumed, the lawn mowed, the dishes done and for you to be ready and eager to help us prepare. Oh, and I'll be needing some hot underwear for tonight, so make sure you hand wash all my panties. Don't embarass me in front of my friend." 

"Yes, Miss Amy," I replied, still on all fours. 

"And don't you dare jerk off while we're gone." 

"Yes Miss Amy." Britney scampered off to the guest room while Amy went to get dressed. Left alone, I decided to get a head start on the chores and began to load the dishwasher. Amy emerged from the bedroom and sat on the living room sofa again, waiting for her friend. After a long time, Britney finally emerged, her face flushed as though she had been working out. 

"Ok, let's go," she panted. Walking over to where I stood in the kitchen, she held something up in front of me. A black thong. "I need this hand washed too," she said, her icy blue eyes locked on mine. "Make sure you do a good job. I just came in them pretty hard." My hand trembled as I took the panties from her. She held my gaze for a moment, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. Then she turned and walked away, giggling with my wife as they headed out to the mall. 

Carefully, I unfolded Britney's wadded panties. They were wet and streaked with pale cum. She wasn't joking. Unable to help myself, I sniffed at her juice. So unlike my wife's smell, but so erotic. My cock twitched desperately. The temptation to jerk off there and then almost overcame me. Dizzy, I leaned against the kitchen counter. It seemed I now had two mistresses who got off on dominating me. This was going to be a long weekend.



Amy's Bitch



"Well...I hoped..."

She laughed again. "Oh no, bitch," she said, and she stood over me, stroking my head as I knelt before her as though I was her pet. "You're not even close to deserving that. Besides, I'm enjoying this far too much to let you go now. The more you want to cum, the more obedient you get. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I said, shame-faced. She was right. She could treat me however she wanted when she got me this turned on.

"Good boy. It's going to be a looong time before I let you cum again. But, get those panties nice and clean and those boots shiny again, and maybe when I get out of the shower I'll use you to make me cum again. Now what do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss Amy."

"For?"

"For making me your bitch."

"You're so welcome."

Tugging at the laces of her corset, she headed for the bathroom. Before she even reached the door, I was face down on the floor, naked and handcuffed and painfully erect, licking her damp panties clean. She really had made me her bitch, and I loved it.