Cruel Wife, Slave Husband
Don’s Point of View: The confrontation
I don’t know exactly how it happened. It seems like only yesterday I was a happily married man doing manly things. I had friends that I loved to go out with, play video games with, and get drunk with. In fact, life was one big never-ending party. Perhaps it was true that I sometimes neglected my wife. But what did she expect? A man needs to do manly things. And once a month or so, she went out with her friends. I never made a big deal of that. As long as my meals were ready, when I got home and the house was clean and neat when my friends came over, and she gave me head when I wanted it, I never complained.
And then I guess I got careless by leaving my laptop on and unsecured when I went to work. That night when I came home, I knew something was amiss. The table was not set and no supper was waiting on the table.
“Where are you, woman?” I called loudly. “Your man is home and hungry. Why isn’t dinner on the table?”
“In here,” came the answer. “I guess I got carried away with reading some of the websites you left open on your computer.”
“Oh, hell,” I thought. “This cannot be good.” I tried to envision some of the things I had been looking at. The leather, boots and even the whips, I might be able to laugh off. But the feminization sites might be a little tougher to explain.
“Come on, dear. Don’t you want to see what I am looking at?”
“Later, woman, I am hungry. Get out here and make me dinner.” I said, trying to regain some sense of control.
“Those words don’t seem to jive with your fantasy life. Why don’t you join me in the den?” Her words were soft, but her meaning was clear. She had no intention of making dinner anytime soon. On legs that had somehow lost their strength, I made my way towards what I feared was impending doom. And then my worst fears were realized when I walked into the den and saw my sweet little blonde wife, sitting in a straight-backed chair, wearing a short leather skirt, a white see-through blouse, and five-inch high heels. And in her right hand, she had a wide leather belt that she kept tapping against one leather-clad leg.
“I see that you have been a very bad boy, young man. Come over here and explain yourself.”
Now, I need to explain that my wife has never been dominant in the smallest of ways. Even when I came home late, stinking drunk she had never raised her voice to me. Even when I was less than satisfying in bed, she just patted my shoulder and told me that it was all right. But, while her voice said she was calm and controlled, her body language told me something else was coming. And frankly, my cock was betraying me. Just looking at that short skirt, high heels and stern pose was causing my cock to strain against the front of my work slacks. And from the direction of her gaze I knew that she could see what her outfit was doing to me.
“Dear, look at this picture on your computer and tell me what you see.”
I looked at what has always been my fantasy but may soon be my worst nightmare. The woman in the picture was dressed all in leather from her neck down to the soles of her spike-heeled boots. And in her right hand, she held a coiled, deadly looking bullwhip. And in front of her was a nude, terrified male with his mouth pressed against one of her boots. I said, “It looks like a picture of a dominatrix to me.”
“Really, a dominatrix, is it? And why do you have such a picture saved to your favorites on your computer? Do you find leather clad women to be sexually stimulating?”
“Well, yes, I guess I do in some way.”
“Is that what you would like for me to be like? Would you like me to wield a whip like the one in the picture?”
“Look, dear, this is just a fantasy. Aren’t there things you think about to get you sexually excited? I doubt that I would really enjoy you taking a whip like that to my ass.”
“Perhaps not, how about if I just took this belt to your ass? Would that be within the parameters of your desires?”
“Maybe we should just start out with a mild spanking,” I said with a smile.
“I don’t know if I like that idea. It would probably hurt my hand more than hurt your ass. But I guess, I am willing to try anything once. Why don’t you get undressed and climb over my lap? Let’s see if I can warm your buns for you.’
“Look, dear, I know you are just trying to make a point here, but I think we are getting into an area that may not be in either of our best interests. Why don’t we just forget about this and go out and get some dinner.” And I reached for the cover of the laptop to shut it. But my hand never got to the top before that leather belt in her hand came down solidly on my arm and I jerked my hand back.
“You are not going to touch this computer again until I am positive that I will have access to it. There are a lot of other sites in your favorites that we need to talk about. Like this one, “Sissy cuckold husbands.” Just how does that fit into your fantasies?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore? I am hungry and tired. While I admit that the way you are dressed makes me a little sexually excited, I am going to call a halt to this conversation.
“Fine,” she said in a calm voice. You go ahead and fix something for you to eat. And I hope you are a good cook because I won’t be doing any cooking in the near future. Right now I am going to copy your recent history and favorites into a word document and email it to myself so I can make sure I learn all there is to know about your deep dark desires. And maybe, I should also send it to your Mother. I bet she could offer me some priceless advice, or perhaps your sister would know better. What do you suggest?”
Damn it, Sandy. Stop this nonsense, right now. If I have to I will take that computer from you by force.”
I had never seen her face turn such a deadly shade of red. I swear I could see little blood vessels pop out on her forehead.
“Just you try it. If you ever want to have sex again with something other than your hand, you better back the hell away from this computer. I swear to God, I will cut your cock off the next time you go to sleep. Do I make myself clear Don?
Well, discretion is the better part of valor and as my erection disappeared I slowly backed towards the door. This was a battle that I figured I could fight another day. And I was reasonably sure that she really would not involve any of my family members in this little disagreement. So I went to the kitchen to see what might be in the fridge to make a sandwich with.
I found some meat and cheese, wrapped the meat around the cheese, grabbed a cold beer and sat down at the table. I took a long swig from the bottle took a nibble of the meat and cheese and tried to think of some way to get out of this unexpected mess I was in. Did I really want my wife to dominate me? Of course not, no real man wanted a woman to force him to his knees. And sure as hell, no man really wanted to have his wife take a whip to his ass or force him to lick her boots. And dear God, those sites about feminization were just momentary lapses in sanity. Sure my cock had gotten hard thinking about being forced to wear corsets and high heels, but that was all there was to it, just something to jerk off to in the middle of a boring day. Sure I was curious about what it would feel like to walk in high heels, but that didn’t mean that I really wanted to do it, did it? And all that was just a curiosity and that was all it would ever be. Somehow, I would get my marriage back on a normal track, whatever the hell that was.
After I finished my beer, I figured I needed to do something to take my mind off of my dilemma and so I called my buddy, Frank and asked him if he would like to go out and shoot a few games of pool. Frank immediately said that sounded like a great idea and to pick him up in about 15 minutes.
The bar was only about 20 minutes away and we traveled most of it in silence. I don’t know what Frank was thinking about, but I was starting to worry that I was perhaps making a bad situation worse by leaving my wife alone with that computer. But, I was sure that after a few drinks things would look better.
It was the middle of the week and we pretty much had the place to ourselves. We stopped at the bar and got two beers and change for the pool tables. We went through a lot of beer and a lot of quarters over the course of the evening. By the time we left neither one of us was fit to drive. Fortunately, Frank was intelligent enough to call us a cab and we left my car in the parking lot.
I am not sure exactly how I got into my house or how I managed to get undressed and into bed. I do know, however, that the next morning I woke up with seven elephants dancing in my head and a mouth that tasted like several of them had defecated in it. I staggered from the bed and noticed gratefully that my wife had already left the bedroom and hopefully had left for work. I looked at the bedside clock and noticed that I had overslept and that there was no way I would make it into work on time. So I made my way to the bathroom, turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and climbed inside. I let the spray run on the back of my neck until some of the pain in my head had subsided. Then I lathered my body with soap and rinsed off just as the water was beginning to turn cold.
I grabbed the aspirin bottle out of the medicine cabinet, shook two out in my hand and then decided to add one more. I downed them with a little tap water and then I forced myself to shave and brush my teeth and then got dressed and ready for work. I prayed as I made my way to the kitchen that my wife had at least made coffee and had left me a cup, but sometimes prayers go unanswered. Oh well, I figured I could always get a cup at the corner convenience store on the way to work. And then I stepped out of my house and was greeted by the sight of an empty driveway. Oh, hell, I thought, did I leave the car at the bar last night? Having no other alternative I called the local cab company, waited for forty-five minutes for a cab to show up and then directed him to drive me to my car.
By the time I stopped to get a cup of coffee and arrived at work, I was a good two hours late. Fortunately, I really did not have to punch a time clock and so there was no one waiting to hand me a pink slip. My secretary did let me know that I looked like shit, however.
How I managed to get through the day is beyond me. But as I left work and headed for home, I had a horrible feeling that the worst part of the day was not over. So when I arrived home to dinner waiting on the table and my wife waiting with a smile on her face, I was pleasantly shocked. In fact, the evening passed without so much as a hint of recrimination from her.