10 comments/ 52811 views/ 58 favorites Dominating Rachel By: swingerjoe Author's note: The Submissive Cocksucker was the first story I ever submitted to Literotica. It was, and remains, a standalone story, and I never had any intention of writing a sequel. A few readers suggested that I write one, however, and I considered it a great compliment that they wanted to read more about these characters. This story is my gift to those readers who appreciated the original. It is also my first foray into the BDSM category. As always, any feedback - positive or constructively negative - is greatly appreciated. ***** Reflecting on her past, Rachel had always recognized that there was something different about her. She knew how she was supposed to feel about certain situations, and how she was supposed to react when certain events had occurred in her life. Yet, she was self-aware enough to accept that she didn't feel the emotions that society seemed to expect her to feel, nor did she react in a way that most people would consider to be "normal." She first came to this realization when she began dating a boy named Todd during her first year in college. He was strikingly handsome, confident and cocky. Her friends told her he was arrogant, but Rachel opted not to describe him with such a negative term. He knew what he wanted, and had no hesitation in demanding it. If that was considered "arrogance", then she found his arrogance to be intoxicating and irresistible. He could have dated any girl on campus, she thought, and he often reminded Rachel how lucky she was that he had chosen her. She worked hard to prove her worthiness as his girlfriend. Once, when he made an uncomplimentary comment about her appearance, she amplified her workout routine, changed her eating habits, and purchased new clothing, all in an effort to please him. He was sweet at first. She was flattered by the blatant attraction he had for her, and she easily fell for his charm. After a few weeks of dating, however, he grew more selfish and demanding, more condescending, and more demeaning. He was never physically abusive, but his words had a way of tearing into her soul. She knew that she shouldn't have put up with it. Most girls would have left him at the first hint of such behavior toward her. But for reasons she couldn't explain, she became drawn to him more than ever. She liked the way he made her feel about herself. He was her first real boyfriend, and thus her first real lover. He often made her feel inferior in bed, as though she had no idea what she was doing, and she tried her best to gain his approval. He had an unusually active sex drive and required a sexual release at least once per day. Their class schedules intersected in such a way that she was able to visit his dorm room just before he arrived each day. One day, early in their relationship, she greeted him at the door with a friendly hug and kiss. Without saying a word, he unzipped his fly and took his stiff cock out of his pants. He put pressure on her shoulders, and she obediently dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. He held the back of her head and fucked her mouth until he coated her throat with several waves of cum. From that day forward, this became a daily ritual. Day after day, she would greet him in his dorm room on her knees, smiling. He would stand in front of her, and she would do the work of freeing his cock from his pants. At first, he was very critical of her technique. "Put the whole thing in your mouth. No, the whole thing! I don't care if you gag. Learn not to gag." "Stop using your hand so much. Just your mouth." "Watch the teeth, dammit." "Lick my balls." "Use your tongue." "Don't fucking stop now! Can't you feel I'm about to cum?" Eventually, she learned to suck his dick exactly as he demanded, and she grew to enjoy this daily ritual, as it filled her with pride to know that she was capable of pleasing him the way he needed to be pleased. Each and every time she serviced him, she would swallow his load - not because she enjoyed it, and not because she thought it was dirty or sexy, but because she simply believed it was what she was "supposed to do." They dated for nearly a year. Then, just before the Christmas break of their second year, she greeted him after class, smiling and kneeling as usual. Instead of standing in front of her, he told her to leave. He didn't offer an explanation, and she knew better than to ask for one. The following day, she found a plastic bag in her room, filled with all of the items that she had been storing in his room. Just like that, their relationship was over. She cried for weeks thereafter. Her friends all tried to console her, insisting that Todd was an asshole, and that she deserved to be treated far better. They hated the way he treated her whenever they went out in public. He would make her serve him, as if she were a waitress or a maid. And he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was leering at every other woman nearby. He even openly propositioned some of Rachel's friends, right in front of her. Although she knew that her friends were right about Todd, Rachel couldn't help but feel empty after their break-up. She learned that Todd was seeing someone new, and she couldn't stop asking herself what she had done wrong, or what more she could have done to satisfy him in the way he needed. No matter what her friends said to her, she couldn't help but feel like a miserable failure. After spending several weeks locked inside her room, her friends on campus eventually convinced her to go out with them to a local bar. That was the night she met Brian. He was the complete opposite of Todd in many ways. He was caring and considerate, polite and respectful, and from the moment their eyes first met, she knew that he had fallen head over heels for her. He called her the next day and invited her to dinner and a movie. Less than a year later, he proposed. Rachel's roommate, her friends and her family had all enthusiastically endorsed their engagement. She knew that he was good for her, and that he would be a good husband and father to her children. She happily accepted his proposal, and after less than a year of engagement, they were married. *** For the next sixteen years, Rachel immersed herself in marriage and motherhood. She gave birth to three children, and was fortunate to spend fourteen years as a stay-at-home mother. She took great pride in being a good wife and mother, but eventually she felt trapped inside her house. Against Brian's protests, she landed a job at the local airport, and immediately felt liberated by her new career. For the most part, she had relegated her relationship with Todd, and the feelings she had experienced when she was with him, to the dark recesses of her memory. She had moved on, and was happy to live a "normal" life, with a "normal" marriage and a "normal" sexual relationship with her husband. As all of her friends and family had predicted, Brian turned out to be a great husband. He shared their household chores and child-rearing duties equally, treated her with respect, and was a terrific father to their children. In the bedroom, he seemed to be more concerned with her satisfaction than his own. He was sweet and caring and compassionate. And that, she discovered over time, was the problem. Rachel knew that she should have felt completely happy and satisfied with her marriage, but she could not shake the nagging, aching feeling that something was missing. For many years, she struggled with this feeling, despite the fact that she recognized how illogical it seemed. She began to feel as if she were abnormal; as if there were something wrong with her. One afternoon, when the kids were in school and she hadn't yet begun to work again, she did a little research on the internet. She discovered that she was not alone after all. There were millions of people just like her who gained both emotional and sexual fulfillment by behaving in a subservient, and even demeaning, manner with their partners. They called themselves "submissives." Simply having a name for this lifelong mystery evoked a sense of relief. On a few occasions, she worked up enough courage to speak with Brian about it. He clearly didn't understand what she was trying to tell him, and it was too embarrassing for her to explain this deep-seated desire she had. Ultimately, she decided to bury her submissive nature and simply enjoy life without fulfilling that particular emotional and sexual need. Then, she met Oscar. Oscar worked at the airport as a security agent. He was handsome and manly, and carried himself with a brazen confidence that Rachel instantly found intoxicating. Despite the fact that he was seventeen years older, she couldn't deny that she was strangely drawn to him. Her attraction was so obvious that Oscar seemed to pick up on it immediately. They began carpooling together, and after several weeks of flirting and teasing, he boldly ordered her to suck his unusually fat cock while parked in an abandoned lot early one morning. She knew that it was wrong. Not only was she happily married, but he was as well. Yet she felt oddly powerless and compelled to follow his order. She leaned into his seat and did as she was told. That one incident evolved into a steady ritual. At least once per week, Oscar would park somewhere on the way to work, and she would suck him off. She justified the affair by convincing herself that she and Oscar weren't really having "sex", but simply fulfilling a desire that neither her husband nor his wife were willing to fulfill. For the first time in many years, she felt emotionally and sexually complete. This strange sort of affair continued for several months. Rachel often imagined what it would feel like to have Oscar's long, thick cock inside her. Eventually, curiosity overcame her, and they spent a night together at a hotel. She could no longer justify that their relationship was not sexual in nature, and the guilt of her infidelity overwhelmed her. Weeks later, when Oscar informed her that his schedule had changed, and he was no longer able to carpool with her, she secretly cried for days. She couldn't help but wonder whether he had really been forced to change his schedule, or if he had done so voluntarily. Perhaps it was relief she felt, or perhaps it was grief. Whatever it was, it had a profound effect on her emotional stability. She fell into a deep depression that she found difficult to conceal, and even more difficult to shake. Brian noticed immediately, and offered to help in any way that he could. He did even more of the housework, and often took the kids out of the house to allow Rachel some "alone time." However, nothing seemed to pull her out of her funk. *** Having spent the past several years telecommuting from his home office, Brian's morning ritual had placed him in "autopilot mode." After sending his youngest child off to school, he lingered downstairs with a cup of coffee and watched the morning news while thumbing through his phone to check his e-mail and calendar. Just before nine o'clock, he shuffled upstairs to his office and fired up two side-by-side laptops: one he used for work, the other for personal use. He logged in to both and checked his work e-mail and calendar. He then turned to his personal laptop, and checked his e-mail accounts. As always, it was mostly junk. He clicked through one message after another, sending them directly to his recycle bin. He paused when he came across an e-mail from Rachel. It was sent to an account that he had created years ago as a throwaway. He hadn't bothered to add this account to his phone, as it was hardly ever used. The subject of the e-mail simply read, "Getting something off my chest," and he noted the timestamp, which indicated that she had sent it during the very early hours of the morning. He never could understand why she worked at such an ungodly hour of the morning, but she seemed to enjoy her job, and he had noticed a drastic improvement in both her mood and libido when she first took that job. Unfortunately, in recent months, both her mood and libido had sunk to such a record-low level that he hardly recognized her anymore. He clicked the message, and it popped open on his screen. Dominating Rachel "Okay," he said. "So, how do we do this?" *** "It's simple," she stated. "Just tell me what to do. I am officially and completely yours, to do with as you please. I am here to serve you. I will do whatever household chores you would like. I will get you something to eat or drink. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it." He couldn't help but smile. Although he wasn't sure how long this experiment would last, it certainly had the potential to be fun. There was no doubt about what he would ask her to do first. His dick swelled at the mere thought of it. When they first began dating, he soon discovered that Rachel was an incredibly gifted fellatrix. It wasn't simply that she was talented; it was that she enjoyed sucking cock unlike any other woman he had ever met. Unfortunately, her enthusiasm for fellatio waned over the years, to the point where it became an act reserved for "special occasions." "Get down on your knees," he commanded, attempting to sound authoritative. The words sounded odd coming from his mouth, but he was giving his best effort to get into the role. She smiled, as if she expected this command, and knelt on the floor, placing her hands upon her thighs. She looked up at him with bright eyes and eagerly awaited his next order. He stepped toward her and stroked her hair. "Take it out," he said. She reached up, unzipped his pants, and struggled a bit to release his hardening cock. Once it was free, he expected her to put it in her mouth. Instead, she removed her hands and returned to her original position, awaiting his next order. He smiled at the realization of what was happening. She really was serious about doing what she exactly as she was told. "Open your mouth," he said. She did as she was told, and he fed her the tip of his cock, popping it in and out a few times, simply to test her response. She closed her eyes and obediently allowed him to fuck her mouth at his own pace. Slowly, he fed her more and more of it, and she complied by opening her mouth wider, and using her tongue to stroke the underside of his shaft. He gave a few quick thrusts and then withdrew completely, admiring the glistening wetness of it while allowing her to catch her breath. She looked up at him, her hands still resting upon her thighs. He found it difficult to look into her eyes and not feel a slight pang of guilt for using her in such a selfish way. Making love with her had always been a mutually-beneficial experience, but this was all about him and his pleasure. "Don't look at me, please" he said, and she immediately cast her gaze downward. He made a mental note not to use the word "please" in the future, as it didn't seem appropriate for a "Dom." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and gently tugged on it. She moaned in response. If she liked it rough, he thought, he would give it to her rough. He pushed her mouth onto his cock once more, and yanked her hair back and forth over it. Instead of fucking her mouth, he was now using it as a fuck toy, forcing it over his shaft again and again. He removed himself completely once more, and she panted for breath. Still grasping a handful of her long, auburn hair, he pushed her mouth over him once more and thrust his hips forward until his entire length was buried into the back of her throat. He held it there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of having his cock surrounded so completely by her warm, wet mouth. He withdrew once more, worried that she was unable to breathe. He felt himself getting close. "Suck it," he ordered. She hungrily engulfed him once more. "Like you mean it," he continued. "I want you to suck that cock like a cheap whore." The words were so alien to him, yet she responded with such enthusiasm that he assumed he must be playing the role properly. She bobbed her head along his shaft at a quickened pace, and he could feel the sensation of a powerful orgasm building. She reached behind him and grabbed his ass with both hands, pulling him toward her in order to get more of him into her throat. She moaned loudly around his cock, sending pleasant vibrations along his shaft and tickling his balls. He expected her to remove him from her mouth and jerk him off into her hands, as she would normally do. Instead, she continued stroking him with her mouth and tongue. "I'm gonna cum," he warned. To his astonishment, she continued to suck him, but with even greater urgency. His cock swelled, and he groaned loudly as a powerful stream of cum erupted inside her mouth. She hardly broke her pace, and seemed to swallow it immediately. His muscles tensed, and his entire body shook as several more bursts filled her mouth. Although he was completely drained, she continued to work her mouth over him. It was then that he realized he hadn't told her to stop. "Okay," he said. "That's enough." She removed him from her mouth and returned to her position: hands on her thighs, eyes downward, silent. "I can't believe you let me cum in your mouth," he said, snapping out of his role-playing. "I can't remember the last time you did that." "All good sub sluts should swallow their master's cum," she stated, softly. She was still playing the role, he thought. For some reason, he assumed that when the sex was over, their game would be over as well. Yet she was still kneeling in position, awaiting his next order, addressing him as "master." He put his cock back in his pants and zipped himself up. He looked at her curiously, wondering what she could be thinking at that moment. She appeared oddly relaxed and content. "Don't call me 'master'," he said. "It reminds me of Dr. Frankenstein's assistant. What was his name? Igor?" "What would you like me to call you, Sir?" she asked, still gazing down at the floor. "Sir is good," he said with a grin. "I like that." "What would you like me to do now, Sir?" He considered the question for a moment. Throughout their marriage, they had split the household chores evenly. At times, he was convinced that he did more work than she did, and that would occasionally lead to arguments. If she was going to play this game, he would take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. "The floors need to be vacuumed," he stated. "I'll get right on that, Sir," she said, and rose to her feet. At last, her eyes rose to look at him, and she smiled. She really did seem at ease. "What would you like me to wear while I vacuum, Sir?" He gave her an odd look. It hadn't occurred to him to issue any orders about what to wear. It was more than enough that she was doing this chore - especially after giving him such an incredible blowjob. Yet he felt as though she were teaching him how to dominate her. "Nothing," he stated. "You should be completely naked." He was testing her, to see just how far he could push her. Although all of their windows were well-covered with curtains and shutters, there was a possibility that someone could see inside, or that someone could come to the door. The woman he married would never walk around the house naked in the middle of the day. And yet, at his command, that same woman instantly stripped off her clothes and casually bounded down the steps. Moments later, he heard the sound of their central vac. He shook his head and returned to his desk. He responded to a few e-mails, but it was difficult to concentrate on his work. The sound of the vacuum cleaner hummed from the floor below, and he could envision his wife pushing the vacuum from room to room, naked from head to toe. He couldn't recall the last time she vacuumed. Years ago, early in their marriage, he had been somehow assigned that particular chore. She claimed that he "did it better", but he suspected she simply didn't enjoy doing it. The noise from downstairs came to an abrupt halt, and he could hear her dragging the hose up the stairs. She plugged it into the upstairs outlet, and the noise resumed. He caught a glimpse of her naked body before she disappeared into the bedroom. Although she had put on a little added weight recently, he still thought she had the perfect body: large, full breasts with deliciously succulent nipples, a smooth belly, toned legs and a firm, round ass. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage, she still aroused him. She made her way into his office, and smiled as she vacuumed the floor under his feet. When she had finished the rest of the rooms, she unplugged the hose and shoved it into the closet. She then returned to the office and instinctively kneeled on the floor beside him, placing her hands on her thighs and casting her gaze downward. "I've finished," she stated softly. "Would you like to inspect my work, Sir?" He gave her a puzzled look. Inspect her work? He was overjoyed to have someone else vacuum for a change. He sensed, however, that she was continuing to educate him on how to dominate her. Evidently, she needed his approval. "Okay," he said. "Wait right here." He made a show of parading around the top floor for a bit before he went downstairs. He walked in a circle around the center of the house, checking the floor of each room. When he entered the kitchen, he noticed that there were crumbs under the table, left over from the previous night's dinner. His youngest child had a habit of making a mess of the floor. "You did well," he said when he returned to his office. Rachel was still kneeling on the floor, naked, and it appeared as though she hadn't moved a muscle since he left the room. She raised her eyes and gave him a look of disappointment. "You're being easy on me," she said. "I know I didn't do as well as you usually do. You have to learn to hold me to higher standards." Was this some sort of test? Did she intentionally forget to vacuum under the kitchen table to gauge his reaction? "Well, now that you mention it," he said, attempting to adopt a scolding tone, "there are some crumbs on the floor under the kitchen table." He tried to discern the look on her face, but he could infer no specific emotion. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said. There was a moment of hesitation, as he wasn't sure what to do next. Once again, Rachel used the opportunity to teach him what to do. "Sir, if I don't do exactly as you order, and serve you exactly as you deserve to be served, then I should be punished. It's the only way I'll learn." Punished? The mere sound of the word made him squirm uncomfortably. The thought of punishing his wife for not vacuuming well enough was absurd, and yet this was seemingly what she wanted. Their role-playing had already reached a point that was beyond his comfort zone, and he briefly considered putting an end to it and going back to "normal." But she seemed so content, and he supposed a little light punishment wouldn't hurt her. The only form of punishment that immediately came to mind was spanking, and he ordered her to bend over and put her face in the carpet. He moved behind her and told her to raise her hips higher off the floor. Her naked ass, so delightfully smooth, fleshy, and perfectly round, hovered before him. He smacked her ass cheek with his open palm, and she grunted softly. He waited a moment and smacked her again. "You're going easy on me again, Sir," she said in a voice muffled by the carpet. He smacked her again, harder. Her ass cheek reddened, and she moaned. He was startled to discover that his dick was growing once more. He had never been aroused by the notion of spanking, and yet, something about this was undeniably exciting. He smacked her other cheek, hard, and it immediately blushed. He could see the outline of his fingers on her soft flesh. Just as he began to think that she had enough, she spoke once more. "Thank you, Sir, but you are still going too easy on me." "You have to be kidding," he said. "If I smack you any harder, I'll break my hand." "Then don't use your hand, Sir." He looked at her in disbelief. Both of her ass cheeks were bright red, and yet she was showing him just how much punishment she was willing to take. He looked around the room for an object to use in place of his hand. Then a devilish notion came to him. He unbuckled his belt and removed it. The sound seemed to send a shiver down her spine, and he could see goosebumps forming on her flesh. He formed a loop with the belt and held it firmly in his hand. Her ass remained raised, high off the floor, and her head remained buried in the carpet. The first lash of the belt surprised him, both by the horrifying sound it made when it whipped through the air and struck her skin, but by the deep red welt it caused as well. She groaned in pain. For a moment, he thought he had struck her too hard. But she caught her breath, and spoke softly once more. "Thank you, Sir." He struck her again. His cock became fully engorged and throbbed within the confines of his jeans. She lifted her ass even higher, indicating that she was ready for another. He gave her another lash, leaving another deep crimson mark on her skin. She groaned in response, but did not move. "Thank you, Sir," she repeated. He couldn't resist it any longer. He swiftly unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his knees. His cock sprung forward through the hole in his boxers. "Your body is mine, right? To use as I want, whenever I want it?" "Yes, Sir." He mounted her from behind and shoved his cock deep inside her, surprised by her wetness. He thrust into her roughly, pulled out, and then slammed himself back inside, driving her head into the carpet. He gave her several short, hard thrusts, and then reached and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. She groaned loudly in response: a deep, guttural, animal-like groan. Normally, he would wait for her to catch up, so that they could orgasm together. But this was all about him and his pleasure. If she truly wanted to be used, then he would selfishly use her as he needed. It only took a few more quick, hard, thrusts before he unleashed another wave of cum inside her. He surprised himself with how quickly he managed to cum, given that he had just done so only moments before. Breathing heavily, he removed himself from her, spilling his cum onto the floor of his office. He stood and began to pull his pants back up when Rachel spun around and stopped him, holding his hands at his sides. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, cleaning him with her tongue. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. She moaned - a deep, throaty sound - as she sucked and licked their combined fluids from his cock. What she did next made him question everything he knew about this woman. Satisfied that she had cleaned him completely, she bent down and licked the cum off the carpet. She then propped herself back up to her knees, and placed her hands upon her thighs. He looked at her in amazement. "Are you okay?" he asked. She looked up at him and gave him a wide smile. "Never better," she said. *** Somewhere within his groggy dream state, he felt a dog licking his toes. There was something about it that seemed distant and out of place, and he couldn't quite reconcile that sensation with what was happening to him at that moment. That sudden realization pulled him out of his dream and into reality. Rachel was kneeling at his feet and dutifully sucking and licking each of his exposed toes as Brian lay, half-covered, on the bed. Like many of their daily rituals, this one had begun as a test of sorts, to learn just how far he could push her. In the eight months since they began their "experiment" with a Dom/sub relationship, Brian had yet to find anything that she found too humiliating or degrading. She had yet to refuse an order or employ the "safe word" they had agreed upon. Initially, he had demanded that she wake him by sucking his dick, but he discovered that in order to do so, he had to be lying on his back, which proved inconvenient. Also, it was often uncomfortable, given that he usually had to take a morning piss. He figured licking his toes would be humiliating enough to get her in the proper mindset to start the day. "Good morning, slut," he groaned. Very early in their new relationship, it had been determined that he would refer to her in private as either "slut" or "cunt", as those were the two most demeaning terms he could imagine. Since then, both words had become terms of affection, to the point where she began referring to herself in the third person as either "slut" or "cunt." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and trudged toward the bathroom. Rachel followed behind him on her hands and knees. As he stood and pissed in the toilet, she turned the nozzles of the shower to the settings he preferred. She then knelt beside him on the floor, silently, with her hands on her thighs and her eyes cast downward. Their children were at school, and as Rachel had the day off from work, it meant that she could serve him for several hours that day. Once the children returned home, they would revert back to a normal husband/wife relationship - at least, in their presence. Whenever they were alone together in private, it was understood that she was his property, to do with as he pleased. He found it odd that none of their kids seemed to notice the change in his relationship with their mother. Whereas he used to do at least half of the household chores, he now did almost none of them. Since they began their new relationship, Rachel was much more cheerful and relaxed, and Brian was as well. They were far more affectionate with each other, and Rachel would even slip up on occasion and call him "Sir" in front of the kids. The kids seemed oblivious to it all. She patiently waited until he had given his dick a few shakes over the toilet. Then he turned toward her, and she eagerly leaned forward and took his cock in her mouth, cleaning the remnants of piss from his cock head. The first time she did this, it came as a shock to him. He had always considered any sort of interaction with urine to be completely revolting. Yet, the first time she cleaned the piss off his dick, she seemed to find it so dirty, so humiliating, and so exciting, he couldn't help but feel drawn in by her enthusiasm. Since that day, he insisted they incorporate that act into their daily ritual. "I'm showering myself today, slut," he informed her. There were times when he would order her to strip and join him in the shower. She would shampoo his hair and scrub his body with soap, taking particular care to scrub his genitals and asshole. When he was finished rinsing, he would shut off the water, and she would towel-dry him. But on this day, he decided he would shower alone. As the hot water cascaded over his head, he reflected upon the past eight months. At the beginning, he truly assumed that their Dom/sub relationship would be a short-term experiment. He believed that after a while, she would grow tired of serving him all day, every day. He assumed that once this strange desire had passed, his wife and their marriage would return to normal, and that would be the end of it. Rachel, however, was so content and relaxed, and her transition into a submissive "slut" was so effortless and natural, it was difficult for him to remember what she was like before they adopted this lifestyle. The biggest surprise to him was how effortless and natural it felt for him as well. He never would have thought that it would be arousing or rewarding in any way to have such a one-sided relationship with his wife. Yet, over time, instead of merely playing the role of her Dom, he embraced this newfound power and responsibility and it became a part of his identity. Oddly enough, he no longer obsessed about sex, as he could have her whenever he liked, and as often as he liked. Absent of that time-consuming obsession, he found that he had far more time to concentrate on other areas of his life. Not only was he happier, but he was far more productive, both at work and home. Dominating Rachel He emerged from the bathroom and saw that his bed was made, as expected. He walked around to inspect the other side of the bed and noted that she had stowed her mattress under the bed. Once, as punishment, he had ordered her to sleep on the floor beside his bed. When Rachel described to him how appropriate it felt for her to sleep at his feet, she begged him to sleep there every night, and it became a part of their daily routine. To make her more comfortable, he purchased a roll-up mat, which he required her to stow away each morning to avoid having the children discover it. As he descended the stairs, he could smell the fresh-brewed coffee that awaited him. Like precision clockwork, Rachel planted the piping-hot cup on the side table next to his favorite chair just as he entered the living room. The television was tuned to his favorite station, and a porcelain plate with a granola bar and some fruit lay next to his coffee. He sat in his chair, and Rachel knelt on the floor beside him. He reached down and stroked her hair, and she smiled and purred. As always, she wore the clothing he had laid out for her: a tee-shirt and black yoga pants with a large hole cut in the crotch so that he could easily access that part of her body if needed. In the early days, he had ordered her to be naked whenever they were alone together, but as winter approached, he realized that his pet required a little more warmth. Around her neck, she wore a silver necklace with a numeric "2" as a pendant. She was directed to never remove this necklace, as it served as a constant reminder for where she ranked in their relationship. He remembered how ecstatic she was when he gave this to her. She told him it was the greatest gift she had ever received, and she wore it proudly. Of course, she was forced to constantly answer questions about it from her friends, family, and even complete strangers, but that was part of the humiliation that came with the territory. She either brushed off the questions with a nonspecific answer or she would make up a ridiculous story to explain it. No one except Rachel and Brian truly understood its true significance. As she sat at his feet that morning, they carried on a normal conversation, discussing family matters and the coming events of the day. He stroked her long, soft hair, and she peacefully purred in response. Some days, he directed her to wear her hair in a pony tail, as he enjoyed grabbing it and leading her around the house by it. But when Rachel awoke that morning, she noticed that he hadn't placed her elastic hair tie on the bathroom counter, which indicated that she should wear her hair down. He made all of her decisions, including how to dress, what daily chores she would do, and what to eat and drink. He even directed her to run on their treadmill on a regular basis, which was something he knew she loathed. With her new diet and exercise regimen, however, she looked better than ever. And when he insisted she tell him the truth, she admitted that she felt better than ever as a result of his direction. He always knew what was best for her. As nine o'clock approached, he rose from his chair and made his way toward the stairs to his office, leaving his dirty dishes behind. As he sat in his chair and logged in to his account, he could hear Rachel cleaning his dishes in the kitchen. Within moments, she crawled into his office on her hands and knees and parked herself beside him. He reached down and gently scratched the back of her head with his fingertips. While he worked, she would not speak unless she was directly addressed. She understood the importance of his work, and how it paid most of their bills. She silently sat at his feet and played with her cell phone. It was a luxury that he would only allow if he was completely satisfied with her service, and she had done an exceptional job of serving him in recent days. "Have you had breakfast yet, slut?" he asked. He knew the answer to the question already. He knew she would never put anything into her body without asking for his permission. "No, Sir." "Go downstairs and prepare yourself some cereal and fruit," he directed, "and then bring it back here. Oh, and if we have any light whipped cream, bring that as well." She crawled from the room and returned several moments later with a large dog bowl filled with cereal and strawberries, and a can of whipped cream. On the side of the bowl, it read, "SLUT." Months ago, when she began eating her meals on the floor like a dog, he came up with the idea of giving her this gift. The look of joy in her eyes when he gave it to her was priceless. She bent forward and lapped the milk and cereal from the bowl using only her mouth. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, and a warm rush of blood caused his cock to expand. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about seeing her behave so submissively that instinctively excited him. He rose from his chair, retrieved a towel from the hall closet, and allowed her to wipe her mouth on it. "Thank you, Sir," she meekly responded. When she had licked the bowl clean, she rose to a kneeling position and awaited her next order. She seemed to know what was coming next. "Are you ready for your dessert?" he asked. "Yes, please," she said, smiling. He removed his pants and boxers, draped the towel over his chair, and sat on it. He then shook the can of whipped cream and sprayed a generous amount over his balls and his hardened cock. He swiveled the chair in her direction and sat back. She leaned forward and hungrily consumed the whipped cream with long lashes of her tongue. She moaned in delight as she swirled her tongue all along his shaft, and slurped the cream from his balls. She lifted his heavy cock and cleaned the other side of it with her tongue. When it appeared to be completely clean, she returned to her kneeling position. "Thank you, Sir," she said. "I enjoyed that treat." His cock glistened and pulsated, and he watched her intently as she licked her lips. "Get under my desk," he commanded, "and suck my cock while I work." "Yes, Sir," she said, and crawled under his desk. He swiveled his chair and focused on the monitor before him. She took his cock head into her mouth and slid his entire length into her throat. As she stroked him with her mouth and pressed her tongue against his shaft, she moaned with pleasure, sending vibrations straight through the lower half of his body, down to his toes. He had taught her exactly how he liked to have his cock sucked, and she was doing an exceptional job of it. "Don't make me cum, slut," he warned. She knew better than to make him cum without asking permission. She slowed her pace, removed him from her mouth, and gently licked from his cock head down to his balls. As he pecked away at the keyboard above her head, she continued to lick and suck him, bringing him to the edge of orgasm again and again, but taking great care not to push his pleasure over the top. "Good girl," he said, and she moaned in delight. He knew how she loved to hear those words. "You're doing a very good job of sucking my cock, and I'm ready to cum now. Are you ready to drink every drop of it?" "Mmm-hmm," she hummed with her mouth full. She quickened her pace, bobbing her head over his shaft with greater urgency. She stroked him using only her mouth, just as she had been taught. She took him deep into her throat and back out, again and again. She held him inside her mouth, her nose pressing against his pubic hair, and rolled her tongue along the sensitive underside of his shaft. He emitted a low groan and his cock expanded as he flooded her mouth with his hot semen. She dutifully swallowed one wave after another without hesitation. His cock continued to throb inside her mouth, and when it eventually began to deflate, he ordered her to stop. She dutifully removed him from her mouth, crawled out from under his desk, and returned to her kneeling position beside him. He rose from his chair and pulled up his boxers and pants. She looked up at him, expectantly. "Head down," he said, and Rachel immediately lowered her head to the floor and raised her ass. He reached down and felt her smooth, firm ass through the fabric of her yoga pants, giving it a light spank. He then moved his hand further around to the opening in the crotch of her pants, which he had instructed her to make. He rubbed his fingers along her slit and verified that she was slick with excitement. "You enjoyed that, didn't you, slut?" "Yes, Sir," she said with her head resting on the carpet. "You should be rewarded for a good job," he stated. "Go fetch your toy." She crawled from the room on all fours and returned with her "Magic Wand." "Plug it in," he said, and she complied. "Now, use it on yourself." The toy hummed loudly, and she brought the vibrating head directly to her clit. She sat with her back against the wall and her legs spread wide, which allowed him to get a good view of the action. Within moments, her moans grew louder and her body began quivering. "Sir," she said, looking up at him. "Please, may I cum?" He paused for a moment, savoring the power he held over her. He tried to recall the last time he had allowed her to cum. He rather enjoyed denying her that pleasure, as he found that she served him far more enthusiastically when she was sexually frustrated. But given that it had been so long, and that she had served him so well, he decided to allow her this treat. "Yes, you may cum," he stated. "Oh, thank you!" she shouted. "Thank you, Sir! Thank you!" Her entire body immediately convulsed with a powerful orgasm. Her muscles tensed, and her face turned a crimson red. Her mouth widened into an almost pained expression of ecstasy, and she continued to shake and groan for several moments as she pressed the vibrator into her clit. At last, she removed it, and her body shook several more times before her muscles relaxed. "I guess you enjoyed that," he said with a smirk. "Oh, god, yes," she said. "Thank you, Sir." "Now, go jog, and then shower," he ordered. *** Brian glanced at the time at the lower right-hand corner of his monitor, and was surprised to see that it was well past two o'clock. He could hear Rachel in the kitchen downstairs, but she was very late for one of her daily duties, and this was unacceptable. Disciplinary meeting, he texted to her. Within moments, she rushed up the stairs and went into their bedroom, closing the door behind her. He intentionally waited several minutes to allow her anxiety to build. There were times when he would wait more than thirty minutes before entering the room, simply to prolong her punishment. The ritual of their disciplinary meetings had been established months before. After doing some research online about Dom/sub relationships, he had written a set of rules that she was expected to follow. Among those were rules about how she was expected to behave during their disciplinary meetings. He opened the bedroom door and found her as he expected: kneeling in the center of the room, completely naked, her hair in a ponytail, blindfolded, and handcuffed behind her back. He closed the door behind him and paced around her in a circle, admiring the bruises on her backside from her previous whipping. He found that it was more and more difficult to devise creative ways of punishing her. It seemed that no matter what punishment he chose, she enjoyed it so much that it became a reward. At times, he would simply lead her into their walk-in closet, order her to kneel, and then leave her there, in the dark, blindfolded and handcuffed, until he felt that she had learned from her mistake. Once, he led her to the corner of their bedroom and forced her to her knees. He placed a dime on the wall, and had her lean forward until her nose pressed against the dime. He ordered her to remain in that position until he returned, and warned that if the dime fell to the floor, she would have to do it all over again. He was amazed when he returned to the bedroom more than twenty minutes later, and her nose was still pressed against that dime. "Do you know why you're being punished?" he asked. It was the standard way to begin this ritual. "I'm so sorry, Sir," she said. "I was cleaning the refrigerator, as you asked, and I lost track of the time." "You didn't bring me my two o'clock snack," he said in a calm tone. "I know, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." "You understand that you deserve to be punished." It wasn't a question, but merely a statement. She knew better than to speak without being asked a direct question, so she simply nodded in response. "I've been thinking of a new way to punish you," he continued in the same calm tone. "It isn't a physical punishment, but a mental one." She shifted nervously on her knees. For months, he had lived with a nagging question that festered inside his consciousness like an itch that couldn't be scratched. He believed he knew the answer to the question already, yet there was not enough evidence to accuse her. This new Dom/sub relationship had given him a new perspective and mindset about the question, as well as an opportunity to finally learn the truth. The strange reality was that the answer no longer mattered to him. He no longer questioned her loyalty to him. And yet, that itch still needed to be scratched nevertheless. "I'm going to ask you a question, slut, and you will answer me truthfully. I promise that I will not get angry, regardless of your response. But I have to know the truth. If you don't answer with absolute honesty, you will be punished more harshly than you have ever been punished before. Is that understood?" "Yes, Sir," she said, nervously. "Have you ever cheated on me?" he asked, calmly. She hesitated. "Sir?" she asked. Her bottom lip began trembling. "It's a simple question, slut," he said. "Have you ever kissed another man while we've been together? Have you ever had another man's dick in your slut mouth? Or another dick in your slutty cunt?" "Sir, I...I don't like this punishment. I don't—" "You're not supposed to like it," he interrupted, his voice remaining calm, steady and commanding. "Now, I will ask you one more time, and if I don't get a truthful response, you will experience a very harsh punishment, I promise you. Have you ever cheated on me?" Her lip quivered, and she lowered her head to the floor. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, SIR!" he corrected, and he slapped her tits with a leather strap he had surreptitiously removed from a drawer in his office. She yelped in surprise and sat up straight. She sniffled, and he imagined her eyes welling with tears behind her blindfold. The admission sent a sharp pang straight through his chest. It was painful enough to suspect his wife's infidelity; it was several degrees more painful to know for certain. "I thought so," he said, attempting to appear unperturbed. He stroked her hair gently. She shivered at his touch. "You have kissed another man?" "Yes, Sir." "You've had another man's cock in your dirty, filthy, slut mouth?" "Yes, Sir." "You have opened your filthy whore legs to another man, and allowed him to fill your dirty cunt with his fat cock?" "Yes, Sir." Snot seeped from her nostrils into her lips, and she spit it out of the side of her mouth. "Who was it?" he asked. "Sir," she said, "I don't want to say." Another lash from the strap struck her breasts, and she yelped in pain. "I asked you a question, slut, and you will answer me truthfully. Who was he?" "Oscar," she whimpered. His booming laughter shocked her, and she recoiled at the sound of it. He laughed so hard, his cheeks hurt. "That old man you used to carpool with?" he asked incredulously. "You fucked him?" "Just once," she said softly. "You only had sex with him once?" he asked. "No, Sir...I only fucked him once." "Okay," he said, pondering this new information. "So what, then?" "I sucked his cock, Sir." "How many times did you suck his cock, slut?" "I...I'm not sure, Sir." "You sucked his dick so many times, you lost count?" he asked, his voice rising uncontrollably. She simply nodded. "You really are quite the slut, aren't you?" he said, resuming his composure. "I really had no idea." She waited in her kneeling position, her hands secured behind her back, mucus running from her nose, wetness glistening from her cheeks, as he pondered his next move. He slowly paced around the room in a circle surrounding her. "Do you love him?" he asked. "Of course not, Sir. I love you, with all my heart." "Then why did you do it?" "He...I don't know, Sir. I felt powerless. Like I do with you now. Only he wasn't my dominant master like you are, Sir. It was all a mistake, and I felt confused. I thought I needed him at the time, but what I really needed all along was you. You have to believe me, Sir. Please, don't destroy what we have right now. I adore what we have. I adore serving you. You make me feel alive and whole, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that." "Oh, I have no intention of destroying this arrangement," he stated. "I like having my pet too much. But rest assured, slut, you will be punished for this. And it will be the most severe punishment you've ever endured." "Thank you, Sir," she said. *** It was almost disturbing how easy it was to contact her. All it took was a simple Facebook search to find her name, and then a Google search revealed her contact information. Before he had even met her, he knew what she looked like, where she worked, and where she lived. Hell, thanks to social media, he even knew what she ate for breakfast that morning. It was scary to consider how much information was floating out there in cyberspace. He had been sitting at a small table in the dimly-lit bar for nearly an hour, facing the entrance, when she walked through the door. He recognized her immediately from her photos online, and therefore wasn't surprised to see that she was attractive. She was tall and thin, with long, blonde hair and blue eyes. He knew from her profile that she was a fitness instructor, and it showed. He stood and waved, and she joined him at his table. She wore an expression of both concern and confusion. He hadn't provided her with details yet, but he would. He gave her just enough information to entice her to meet him. As he studied her from across the table, Brian couldn't help but notice that Oscar's wife was around his age. It didn't surprise him that the old bastard preferred younger women. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about Oscar that attracted young, attractive women. Maybe he was hung like a horse. The image of his wife wrapping her lips around a massive, horse-like cock sent a tingling sensation to his groin. "Thank you for coming," he said with a smile. "Let me buy you a drink. You're going to need it." *** Rachel was confused and surprised when she read the text. As she scurried up the stairs, she scrolled through all the possible infractions she may have committed. In the weeks since she was forced to reveal her affair, she had taken extra care to serve her husband better than ever. She was relieved to discover that nothing had changed in their relationship. In fact, he seemed more relaxed than ever, and more pleased than ever with the level of service she was providing. She entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. As she stripped off her clothes, she ran through her mental checklist. The sink was empty of dirty dishes, the floors were spotless, the kitchen counters had just been wiped clean, his bed was made, her mat had been put away, he had enjoyed his morning breakfast, and she was just about to begin preparing lunch. Everything, it seemed had been completed as expected. So why had she received a text from him, ordering a disciplinary meeting?