My Husband, My Slave - S01 E02

Story 1 month ago

My Husband, My Slave - S01 E02

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 2

"I'm sure your tirade had a lot to do with that. I told you it was a juvenile thing to do. You could have been critical, but civilized." I would have continued to tell him that he had brought this on himself, but decided not to. John may have been excitable, but he wasn't an idiot-he could figure that out for himself, "Please, dear won't you give me a hand with dinner?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"I can, but since you've been home all day doing nothing I thought you might be willing to help. Frankly, I'm tired and all I want is a cup of tea and some toast."

"Okay...what do you want me to do?" I set him at several tasks that he'd normally consider beneath him while I rustled up a salad and a steak. Afterwards, I asked for some help clearing and rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. He wasn't pleased, but he didn't complain either. I let him fuck me that night, he was more than willing to lick me clean and give me an orgasm, too. I kissed him, encouraged him in his job-seeking efforts even though I knew they were fruitless, and rolled over to a most enjoyable slumber.

When the weekend came John was content to sit back and watch TV while cleaned the house-time for another change. "Do you think it's fair, darling that I work all week and have to clean the house, too? You know work roughly sixty hours plus another five on housework while you're doing nothing. It might be different if you were working, but you're not. Sixty-five hours to none doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"You know I've never done that, Soph."

"You could learn, couldn't you? I'd help you in the beginning, but it's hardly rocket science. The house would really sparkle if you'd do maybe two hours a day. Then we could have the weekend free to do things together." There was a grumbling acknowledgement, but he did tum off the set and join me. I showed him how to dust the way wanted it done remove every item, dust it and the area where it sat and replace it. Of course, I never did that-it was too time consuming-but now I had someone with plenty of time on his hands. We worked together for two hours as I encouraged him with compliments and kisses.

John had a list of chores when I left for work Monday morning.

They were done, but poorly. I was critical, but that's all. He

complained when I gave him the same list plus another two hours on Tuesday. "Had you done these right yesterday you'd only have half to do today.

I kissed him and went to work. By week's end it was pretty obvious even to John that he wasn't going to find work anytime soon so I gradually increased his workload at home. However, when I returned home the following Thursday evening it was obvious that he had done nothing. I was furious.

"What the hell have you been doing? Think this is a fucking joke? Get up and lie across the table."

"What? Why should I?"

"I'm doing my share-more than my share-but you aren't holding up your end. I only ask you to work for a couple of hours and you can't be bothered. Either get up there or get out. I'm fed up with your shitty attitude!"

"You don't mean it, Soph."

"Don't I? Why the hell should have to do everything? I didn't mind that you quit your job, but you had to swear at your boss and insult him. What did you expect him to do...turm the other cheek? If I'm going to do it all I might as well do it alone."

His head was down, but he walked slowly up to the table and leaned over it. I left him in place and walked into the bedroom, returning with his thick brown belt. He gave me an incredulous look when I lowered his jeans, but he didn't move. The first blow seemed to take him by surprise. He cried out in obvious pain. He was bawling by the sixth and gasping for breath by the time had administered the tenth. I left him there to gather himself while I retumed the belt to his closet.

"I didn't enjoy that, John, but I think it was necessary to remind you of your responsibilities, wasn't kidding when I said would go it alone. We had an agreement, didn't we? I'm working and you're taking care of the house while you're not. Now, unfortunately you'll have two days chores to do or must I repeat this tomorrow evening?"

"No... Soph...I'm sorry." I leaned over to kiss his cheek then told him to help with the dinner. We were eating when I lowered the next boom. "I think you should learn to cook. Just think how much time we could save if you had dinner ready when came home. I'd also appreciate a glass of wine and maybe a foot massage then. You could handle that, couldn't you?"

He gave me a look that expressed his displeasure, but said

nothing. His control was slipping away and there was nothing he

could do about it. I set up a menu for tomorrow-something

simple that even he couldn't fuck up: broiled pork chops, baked

potatoes, and green peas that he could microwave. I wrote the instructions on a sheet of paper with the times to start everything and explained how to set the table the way I wanted it.

I phoned John from my car the following afternoon. "Hello, darling I'll be home in about five minutes. Would you please open the Chardonnay that's in the 'fridge? Why don't you have one, too? Then we can talk while you're taking care of my feet. I spent a lot of time walking in these damned heels today. Okay, see you soon, hun." In fact I'd changed my shoes to flats in the office. I only used the heels when entertaining a client and when I wanted to make a really positive Impression.

John had my wine on the coffee table when I arrived. was sure to compliment and thank him. "I think this would be better if you were on the floor, John. You don't mind, do you?" Once again, I had a hidden agenda. I wanted to reinforce his new position in our household and mine, too.

"Would you please remove my stockings, John?" He gave me that look again, but did reach up for my thighs. Once they were pulled off he began to move his fingers over my feet, massaging the balls with his thumbs and kneading my toes. "My goodness, John-you have very talented fingers. I'll bet you could get a job as a masseur, Why don't you look up?" I spread my legs when he did.

"I don't believe it, Sophie...no underwear?"

"I'm so evil. took my panties off when left work. was hoping you'd do my feet. Maybe you'd like to do something with my puss, too."

"I would." He began to undo his belt, but I stopped him.

"We can do that later, but only if you take care of me now. I need to relieve some stress; it's been a difficult day. never knew such problems when was just a sales person. Would you, please darling?" I spread my legs even farther, exposing my neatly trimmed cunt to him. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist. His wonderful tongue was up my tunnel seconds later. Ten minutes later my stress was miraculously gone as I experienced a delicious orgasm that shook my entire body. John's tongue was probably his strongest muscle. I exercised it almost daily. John cleaned up after dinner while I showered then I allowed him to fuck me, although I'd probably be more accurate if I said that fucked him. I always took the top where I could control the action and pace and where I could move easily to his head for our post-coital cleaning.

I had noticed a gradual reduction in our home's cleanliness over

the next few weeks and I had whipped him several times without any noticeable improvement. Then one day learned the reason why. I was in my office taking a brief break for lunch when I decided to check our MasterCard account online. To my surprise there were two ATM cash advances I hadn't made. Each was for $300 and plus a fee of five dollars. When I phoned the bank I learned they were for transactions on a private ATM. There was no answer when I tried to phone the merchant for information. I found that odd.

I tried again when I had some spare time around three that afternoon. The phone rang five times before it was answered. "Pink Pussycat."

"This is Main Street Bank..credit card security," I lied. "I'm checking on some activity on one of our accounts. Do you have an ATM in your establishment?"

"Yeah, we do."

"Do you recall a customer by the name of John Masters and would you know if he used your ATM?"

"Sure, know John. He's one of our regulars. Let me just check his tab." He continued a few minutes later. "Yeah, he made two payments...one last Thursday for $300 and another yesterday for the same amount. He still owes quite a bit so he'll probably use the ATM again."

"Thank you for your assistance. We just wanted to verify that he had actually made the transactions." I hung up the phone. I was livid. John was hanging out at our local strip club, a place that was well-known for both prostitution and drug activity. I phoned my boss, telling him I needed to leave for the day. Thirty minutes later I parked my car in the garage. John was surprised to see me.

"Where's your wallet, John?"

"On my dresser-why?"

"You'll see; please get me a glass of wine." I returned to the couch with the wallet in my pocket and the shredder from our office in my hands. I placed it in front of the couch and plugged it into the wall outlet. Draining the wine in a single gulp told John to sit on the floor in front of me.

"Why can't I sit on the couch?"

"Just do as you're told for a change" pulled a sheet of paper from my purse once he was in place, handing it to John. "Mind explaining these two highlighted transactions?"

"I needed money, that's all."

"You needed $600 in less than a week's time? Why?"

"I just needed it. I don't have to explain. It's my money, too you know."

"Is it? guess I'm supposed to work my tail off so you can spend hours at the Pink Pussycat running up a big tab getting lap dances and buying drunken degenerates overpriced drinks. Don't give you enough sex?" He had no answer so I opened the wallet. First I removed the cash, counting it. There were thirty one-dollar bills and another twenty in tens. "Tip money for the dancers?" I pulled out each of his credit cards and his debit/ATM card, feeding them into shredder, but I wasn't done. Bit by bit I emptied the wallet. There were scraps of paper with women's names and phone numbers and when reached into the pocket behind the plastic photo insert I pulled out two condoms.

"Those are old, they've been in there for ages...since before we were married, I swear."

"That's funny...they don't look old. The packets look new and the expiration date is June, 2017. Care to try again? Get your clothes and get out. We're finished."

"No...please, I'll do anything. Please, baby."

"Don't 'baby' me! We had an agreement. You broke it. Instead of working here to keep our home in good shape you're spending hours at that sleazy strip club, carrying condoms and getting names and phone numbers of women. I've had enough."

"Please...anything, whatever you say I'll do it. Don't kick me out. I beg you.

"Anything, eh? Okay, here are my terms. You'll accept a whipping from me every day for the next two weeks. You won't need any money, because you won't be going anywhere. Give me your keys. I'm going to sell your car. Now take off your clothes. You won't need them because you're not going anywhere. Get naked and get over the table. It's time for your first punishment session. I'll have something else for you once we're done. Just be glad I'm whipping your ass instead of your balls." I jumped up leaving John to wonder

where everything had gone wrong.

I took longer than expected, changing my clothes into something took longer than expected, changing my clothes into something more comfortable-something that wouldn't restrict my swing. I walked back to John about ten minutes later. If anything, I was even angrier than I was when I got home. I had John's belt in my hand. Luckily for John he was naked and lying over the table. I ran the cool leather over his ass a few times before stepping back and bringing the belt down forcefully onto his right cheek. "I hate doing this, John," I lied. "Why do you make me? Can't you just do what you're told to do? You've had it so easy, but that's done. I'm really going to work you now and you're going to do it...every single thing I tell you to do. I brought the belt down again and again, stopping only when I had given him an even two dozen. His ass was covered with red welts.

"Stand up and turn around. I have something for you. I obviously can't trust you so have to take control. Don't move an inch." I retumed to the bedroom, hung the belt in John's closet and returned with a small parcel I'd put into my closet about two weeks ago.

I addressed John once I had returned to the dining room. "Spread your legs-wider-and put your hands behind your back." I stepped behind him and shocked the hell out of him when I locked his wrists into handcuffs. "That's nothing, John. I'll take then off in another minute. I don't want you interfering. You said 'anything' and I'm taking you at your word. You can leave any time you don't like what do to you. Don't ever forget that."

Reaching into the box I removed the stainless steel ring. It fit tightly around John's balls and cock. I was glad John had a reasonably big set of testicles as I pushed his soft little wienie into the cylinder and locked it in place with the special screws. Using the special wrench I tightened the screws that covered the cylinder, pressing the sharp points into his cock. "Now have control of this thing. Someone has to control it and you obviously can't.

An unauthorized erection will hurt you, I'm afraid. Understand this-I own you now. Do what you're told and we'll fuck often, but it will be done my way and only my way. I'll tie you into the bed before I remove this and it will be back on you before you're released. Feel free to try to remove it. It's strong stainless steel. The company has told me that a force of more than 5,000 pounds would be required to bend the tube up so your balls can escape and there are four prongs in the tube that will squeeze your penis until it's cut in two if you try to pull it out. Do yourself a favor and leave it alone." removed the handcuffs, telling John to begin the dinner. "I'll have another glass of wine. Taking the key walked into the home office where opened my safe. The keys went in and I closed the door, locking John's freedom inside. He was crying, kneeling on the floor when I retumed.