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Yes Dear

After years of begging, my wife finally took control.
Slowly I opened my eyes. It was still very dark out. I looked at the clock across the room. Aahgr… it was only 2:45am. The red numbers seemed to be laughing at me. I rolled over trying to get comfortable. My wife, peacefully asleep, lied next to me… I am so loved. My mind raced back to the beginning. I had told my wife I was interested in perusing a femdom type marriage. Wow, what a fight that was and how far we have come.

I love my wife. What’s not to love; she is amazing. Her figure is perfect and feminine, soft full DD breasts, tight round butt, piercing hazel eyes sometimes hiding behind stylish glasses, long brown hair and a smooth little stomach. Better than a playboy model (and not just ‘cause she is real). After collage she continued her active lifestyle, running, biking, and other sports. All that activity has kept her legs shapely and tone. She is bright and sweet, certainly no pushover.

When I brought up the idea of a femdom type relationship she, of course, freaked out. She said the thought of me wanting to be treated that way made her feel awful. She wanted a “real man.” So, the idea was dropped, but not for long. I had a longing, a need. Over time I began to hint a little at wanting this and that. Then, it happened.

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It had been a long day at the office. When I got home the house was quiet and getting dark. The only light was coming through the open blinds from the setting sun. The kids had been shuffled off for long weekend at my parents; so I could look forward to sleeping in over the weekend. I walked in the door and could hear music coming from the master bathroom in the back of the house. That meant she was in the shower.

I shut and locked the door behind me. I took off my shoes and tossed them in the corner next to the door. Even though the house was little chilly, I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. I emptied the contents of my pockets, and a bunch of paper-work all over the living room table. I then made my way into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. I grabbed the half empty bottle of orange juice and looked at the cabinet that held the cups. Screw it. I drank from the container. I walked back to the couch and threw myself in, ass first. A deep breath and boisterous exhale proclaimed my victory over the day.

She was always getting after me for doing just about everything I had done as soon as I walked in the house. But she was in the shower, I was tired and I figured I could deal with her if she brought it up. Really, what was she going to do anyway (I remember thinking to myself). I looked for the TV remote. It was on the other side of the couch, probably just out of reach. I was so lazy I never even bothered to reach for the remote. I sat there in the darkening room drinking my juice from the large container.

When I woke, I had no idea how long I slept, only that it was very dark outside. I reached for my juice that I had placed on the table next to the couch. In its place I found a note.

"Darling, I have asked you not to drink from the container. Not knowing how long you were going to sleep, I put it away. Please come to our room when you get up, and be sure to knock before you come in. Love you.”

“Darling?” I said to myself.

She had never called me that before. And why did I have to knock? I was relieved she had not noticed the rest of the utter chaos I had left behind my every step from the moment I walked through the front door. I decided I would pick it up later. Still a little tired, but feeling better after my nap I took a deep breath. The orange juice and the nap combined leaving and awful taste it my mouth. I stood, stretched, and walked toward our room, smacking my lips in an attempt to rid my mouth of the atrocious taste. As I reached the door to our room at the end of the hallway, I remembered the note. I knocked and then reached for the knob. Before I touched it I heard her voice from the other side.

“Go take a shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you in here till you have. I put everything you need in the spare bathroom.”

I stood in the dark dead-end hallway. My shoulders slumped and I tilted my head back. My eyes rolled up, and as my mouth lay gaping open I let out a groan.

“AAahhhhgggghhh. Why can’t I just do all that in therrrre,” I asked, not quite a whining.

“Because I don’t want you stinking up the room with your nasty post sleep-orange juice breath and as long as you are cleaning that up, you might as well take a shower too,” said the voice behind the door, deep within the room.

I stood there for at least ten seconds, debating my next move.

“I know you’re still there. Go…,” she said resolutely, “and don’t forget to hang up the used towel in THAT bathroom.”

With a sigh I headed back down the hallway, through the dark house into the spare bathroom. In the bathroom I turned on the light and found my toothbrush, toothpaste, towel, and change of clothes on the counter where she had left them for me. That was nice, but I still felt she should have let me clean up in the master bathroom. Before I undressed and hopped in the shower, I hung up the towel so I could reach it without completely getting out of the shower.

After I finished with my shower, I stuck my hand out to grab my towel. Gone. I poked my head out, around the curtain. Not only was my towel gone, so were all my clothes. What remained were another note and a small dry wash cloth, both at the far end of the bathroom. I felt the cold slowly invade the shower. I realized I was going to have to dry off in the chilly air. Knowing I had little choice on the issue, I jumped out of the shower, grabbed the dry wash cloth and did what I could with it. After a lone shiver, I picked up the note.

“Darling, I figured since I had to pick up your shoes, jacket, and the rest of the mess you left tossed around the house, I would take care of this stuff in here while I was at it. Enjoy your warm towel. See you in the room. Love you.”

Very funny. I figured I deserved it and it was a relatively small price to pay.

When I was dry, I snuck my way back across the quiet house to our room, being careful to avoid as many of the open windows as possible. It wouldn’t have been as bad if she hadn’t turned on all the lights. I was worried someone would see me, but I was glad the kids were gone. The door was still shut but I decided I no longer needed to knock. I opened the door and was instantly enveloped in the warm glow of candle light. Out in the middle of the room away from the bed was an armless chair with a high back.

I stepped into the room and looked around. Then I saw her. She was standing next to the head of the bed hands clasped behind her back. Her dark stockings ended in a pair of glossy black high heels. Her long sleeve white satin blouse was smartly tucked into her black pencil skirt with a wide black belt. The blouse was not buttoned all the way up and at the crescendo of each breath her supple breasts looked as if they were mere millimeters from freedom. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the back, which was only just visible as her head was tilted slightly down. Because her head was angled as it was, she peered at me through the top of her glasses with her left eyebrow slightly raised.

“I thought I told you to knock” she asked dubiously?

As she spoke she cut between me and the rest of the room, stopping my forward movement. I got a strong scent of her perfume. It warmed my insides and made it difficult to think.

“I did before… ah, before my shower. Um… what’s all this about?” My head was starting to clear and my voice began to show my frustration, “And why did you take my clothes? You could have at least turned the lights off. I hope the neighbors didn’t…”

As I talked, she turned her back and walked to the chair. Her arms gracefully swayed as she moved. As soon as she got to the chair she turned again and faced me, standing directly in front of the chair. Wow, she was gorgeous. The candle light danced around her shapely figure and made her eyes sparkle.

She cut me off, “Look, I think we need to have a talk. Come here and sit down.”

“Can I get dressed first?” I asked, a little apprehensively. I was worried about how long this “talk” might take, “I’m getting a little cold.”

“No,” she was adamant. “I said sit down.”

No? Did she just say, “No?” She never stopped looking me in the eye. She didn’t seem angry or come off rude, just forceful, direct – powerful. Her perfume coupled with, what she was saying, how she was saying it, the way she was dressed, everything; it was overloading my senses. I was standing naked, in front of the woman of my dreams. That realization hit me and dread soon followed. My dick was coming to life. If she was already unhappy over something, I really didn’t want to have her upset about that AND me being turned on over the way I was being confronted. We had gone through so many arguments about her dominating me and I was not prepared for another argument, not now.

But I had no choice. With every heart beat my member grew. As my dick got bigger, I became more uncomfortable. As I became more uncomfortable, I became more aroused. My body was no longer under my control. I knew I would not win the battle to keep my arousal at bay. So, I decided my best move would be to sit. If I did, maybe I could hide my “problem.” I looked for another chair, as it was obvious she was going to sit in the one behind her. Seeing nowhere else I decided I would sit at the edge of the bed. I took a step toward the bed.

“You seem to have a problem listening. I said come here… and sit down.”

She didn’t move or look anywhere but directly at my eyes. My heart started beating more wildly than before. I felt like it was in my throat. My dick was at half mast and getting bigger by the second. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. I was sure she could see what my body was doing. I swallowed hard, desperately trying to get my heart back down into its proper place. My mind was racing.

I kept thinking, “She had to know it wasn’t fair to do this to me and not expect this type of reaction. She had to know.”

I walked toward her. By the time I reached her she was sitting comfortably, hands clasped calmly on her lap. I looked around, trying to find some where to sit close to her without being on the floor. I gave her a confused look.

“Sit,” she said quickly glancing at the floor. “On your knees is fine,” she said calmly.

Although she seemed to disregard it, my engorged cock stared directly at her. It was aching to be touched. I was in a trace, and having difficulty processing what was happening. I knelt down, not quite directly in front of her. When I reached my knees, I bowed my head, looking at her feet. I was embarrassed at my inability to control my body. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. Her hand began to lightly caress the back of my head. It felt like a dream. I knelt there like that for a moment. Her words were quiet, thoughtful.

“I love you, darling. But there are a few items that need to be discussed…” she paused. “I have done some thinking and realized that you do need some structure… some discipline. Don’t you?”

I was quiet, unsure if I was to answer the question. But after a moment of silence her hand caressing my head stopped and tightly grabbed hold of my hair. Her hand didn’t move. I certainly didn’t move my head to look up at her. If I had, her hand would have ripped the hair it held from the root.

With my head down I couldn’t see her face, but I was fairly sure she was smiling when she sweetly asked, “Darling?”

“Yes, I need structure,” I said without looking up.

Her grip loosened and went back to lightly scratching my scalp, sometimes making circles in my hair with her fingers.

She continued in a quiet but sweet, singsongy melody, “Naturally, I should be the one to provide you with that structure. Is that what you want, what you need?”

“Yes,” I said, trembling on the inside.

My cock was so hard the skin felt like it was going to burst. I kept thinking this had to be a dream. The chair creaked ever so slightly. I could tell she was leaning forward.

“Look at me,” she said quietly.

As I lifted my head, her hand slid around the side of my face till it was under my chin. Our eyes locked only inches apart. Her eyes were soft, understanding. To this day I can’t put my finger on the expression she gave me. It was sympathy, or love.

“I completely understand,” her whole body seemed to agree with those words.

My heart melted. I almost started to cry.

She continued, “I am willing to accept this responsibility, but you must accept that you are mine. When I desire to exert my control, I expect you to obey me, no questions. If I decide you are to be punished, you are to remember you have given me the authority to do so in any way I see fit. This may frustrate you. There will be times when you disagree with me, but that's ok. I want to hear your opinions. I will respect and consider them when I come to my final decision. I am not interested in a silent little worm. In the end, however, not only am I in charge, you belong to me. Do you understand?”

I quietly nodded my head, “yes,” amazed at what I was agreeing to.

She gently shook her head as she began again, “No. That’s not good enough. I want to make sure you know there will be no going back once you agree to this.”

“Yes, I understand and, I agree,” I said meekly, looking her dead in the eye.

“Good boy.”

Gently she removed her hand from under my chin and lightly patted her lap. Kneeling in front of her, I eagerly placed my head on her lap. She resumed stroking my head. Tears came to my eyes. I was so happy.

“Now,” she said ending the silence, “on to the other issue I feel needs to be discussed. I realize we are sort-of starting over with a clean slate, but you seem to have difficulty cleaning up after yourself.”

Suddenly, my insides turned to water and I felt the urge to run. My heart again began beating like it was trying to escape my chest. I wasn’t sure what was in store for me but after what I just agreed to, I was worried. I felt my hands shaking.

“I feel like you need a… incentive, to help you remember. Stand up.”

I stood facing her. My cock again pointed directly at her. This time she acknowledged its presence. She stared at it intently, searching it, admiring it. She reached out with her right hand. Starting at the base she lightly ran her fingers along its length, tilting her head this way and that as if to find something. My eyes were having trouble focusing. It was all I could do to keep from cumming right then and there. Finally her hand stopped with only the tips of her fingers touching the bottom of the head. Her hand lingered there only a moment before she looked up in my eyes. Her lips slowly curled upward revealing a devious grin. Then, without warning, she moved her hand away only to swing it back with a swiftness I was totally unprepared for. Her open palm made a loud slapping noise when it hit. My dick whipped from one side of my body to the other. I winced. When caught my breath and opened my eyes, she was staring at me, hands again calmly folded in her lap.

“I’m not playing. This is not for some sexual thrill.” Her eyes blazed, “I know how you like the idea of pain. But believe me, when I’m done, you will not want to disappoint me again. Now, go get me my hair brush off the dresser.”

I turned slowly. My right knee almost buckled with the first step. I knew I was in trouble, but I was so turned on by everything. I took hold of the wooden hair brush on the dresser. It was cold and solid with a flat wide back. I walked back and fearfully handed it to my wife, my throbbing dick still standing at the ready.

“Over my knee,” she said, smoothing her dress.

I was anxious and my breathing was heavy. I lowered myself over her. My hands reached down to the floor while my toes almost felt in limbo as they touched the floor but weren’t exactly solidly placed.

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Since that first real experience, I have learned that I do enjoy a good spanking. But I have also learned that there is, let’s call it, an art to applying something “painful” for a sexual thrill. The build up can take some time. There was no build up with this. Her first strike was as solid and forceful as her last.

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“WHACK!” the hair brush held in her right hand landed squarely on my right ass cheek.

“Aahouch,” I cried after that first blow.

My eyes instantly watered. Instinct forced me begin to struggle to get free and reach back with my hand to shield from any future attack. This was not what I thought I agreed to. This hurt. Why was my cock still so hard?

“You will stop your moving right now! You agreed you need my discipline. Now, sit still!”

She wasn’t angry, but her tone was no nonsense. As best I could I regained my composure. Where she struck me it felt like the skin was boiling over. She waited for me to get settled before she began again. When she resumed, each blow was levied with words that stung my pride almost as much as the brush stung my ass.

“I am so disappointed in your actions. You know how much work it is to keep this house running smoothly and yet you continue to make things more difficult. Not any more. You will clean up after yourself and help more.”

Her words and strokes came one right after another. It was not long before my entire ass was as red and hot as fire. As the barrage continued I cried out, not caring if the neighbors could hear. The crying came like powerful waves. I did my best to stand up to them. But as I would start to regain my composure the pain and sorrow of disappointing her would overrun me and the tears would rage with more vengeance than before. I began to repeat myself over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I was blubbering. “Please forgive me,” I sobbed.

When she was done, I was crying and shaking. She dropped the brush to the floor and lightly rubbed my burning ass. Her cool hand felt good and comforted me. Her fingers traced the outline of the welts on my ass.

“Ok, stand up,” she said coolly.

I awkwardly moved to stand on my feet, desperately trying to regain control of my emotions. Once I was off her lap she stood and began to move to the corner on the opposite side of the room. I stood and watched her polished movements as she made her way. Once she reached the corner she turned and faced me, legs slightly apart, her left elbow crooked leaving her hand resting on her hip. She raised her right hand and beckoned me with her index finger. I walked toward her and when I was within reach, she gently placed her hand behind my back and guided me, face first, into the corner.

“Stay here until I call you,” she said as she held me in the corner. “Don’t move.”

In the corner, my crying quietly subsided and I was able to hear movement behind me. My ass was still on fire, but that didn’t stop my dick from being stiff with excitement over the embarrassment I had just endured. The circumstances leading up to my time in the corner replayed over and over in my head. I was truly sorry I did what I had done, but as time went on, my mind lingered less on the pain and more on the way she looked, smelled, spoke, acted and what might be next.

“Ok, darling, I think you’ve learned your lesson,” her tone was completely different, calm, comforting – really loving. “Come here.”

When I turned and faced her she was again seated with her hands neatly folded in her lap but had removed her skirt and top. She wore a matching black bra and garter belt both beautifully made with lace embroidery. Her legs were crossed and the glossy high heels punctuated the top leg that slowly rocked her foot back and forth. Her eyes sparkled. I moved from the corner and stood before my wife, naked, humiliated, and in tremendous pain. But more than all that, I knew I was loved – free. I felt closer to her after that terrible spanking than I had felt in years. I lightly rubbed my searing hot bottom as she spoke.

“Darling, I love you,” her quiet voice was still as loving and compassionate as ever. “I know you’ve learned your lesson and we won’t have to go through this again, at least, not for the same reason I hope. Now, on your knees, baby.”

Painfully I moved to my knees at the floor in front of her. She uncrossed her legs as she leaned toward me. She reached out both hands and cupped my head in her hands. As she wiped my tears away with her thumbs she stared deep in my eyes. My crying had stopped but the deep erratic gasping for air was persistent. She kissed me softly. Then she pulled away, sitting herself upright and lightly patted her hand on her lap. For the first time I realized she was not wearing panties. I placed my head on her lap. Where her soft and smooth skin ended the uneven lace at the top of her stockings began. The smell of her perfume and her sex intertwined. My heart raced. She began to “shhh” me and told me everything was going to be ok, over and over as she ran her fingers through my hair. I wrapped my arms around her legs and held on tightly. We sat like this for some time.

As we sat she shifted and pressed her thighs together a little. Slowly her breathing became a little deeper. I faintly rolled my head and kissed the top of her thigh lightly. As I did I could feel her legs part, just a little. The warmth between her legs called to me. I kissed again, and again her legs parted, only slightly more. Her breathing quickened and she let out a soft short moan as this time my face firmly, but lovingly, pressing my lips against the top of her thigh. Smoothly I lifted my head from her lap and repositioned myself more between her legs. Taking my queue, she slouched in her chair and moved her perfect bottom to the edge of the seat. She opened her legs enough to give me a clear view of her dripping pussy.

I slowly kissed my way deeper into her thighs. The closer I got, the more intoxicated by her aroma I became. My hands rapped around the outside of her thighs, rubbing back and forth between her smooth skin and the uneven texture of the garter and stockings. The crease of skin on the inside of her leg, where her thigh met her hip was soft and slick from her gushing excitement. Tenderly I kissed the lips of her delicate flower. A light gasp escaped her mouth. Her breathing became more deliberate and her hips slowly rotated, beckoning my tongue.

“Goooood boy. Kiss my pussy. Mmmmmm, yeeeeeessss,” her voice was a sultry whisper that hung in the air, creating more desire between us. “Doesn’t my pussy taste good, darling?”

I moaned in agreement. Then I couldn’t help myself. I buried my tongue deep within her, licking and sucking at her in my attempt to taste her very soul. As my tongue darted in, out and around her elegant wetness, she moaned and gasped with pleasure. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer.

“Yeessss! Lick my beautiful pussy! Oh, Fuuuuuck, make my pussy cum!” Her words were thick and primal, “Fuck me with your tongue! Rub your face all over my pussy.”

Her nails burrowed into my hair, scratching my scalp. Her thighs closed down around my head. Her hips kept time with my tongue, dancing to an ever increasing beat. Then with one quick movement she pushed me away, stood up, swung her leg over my head and spun around. I stared at her luscious ass, framed by the garter and stockings. Slowly, she widened her stance, moving her ass slightly to the right and then to the left only inches from my face. She gracefully bent over, putting her forearms on the chair for support.

“Lick my ass, you dirty fucking slut,” her words rang in my ears.

Eagerly I reached up and widened the space between each cheek enough to get my face all the way in. My tongue caressed the soft skin around her brown hole, causing it to relax and open. She moaned, rotated hips, and then arched her back, giving me even more access. My tongue probed her ass. I felt her adjust her weight and she moved her left hand to her pussy. She fondled her clit and plunged her fingers in her wanting pussy while I licked and played with her ass.

“Stroke your cock,” she demanded. “Stroke it while you lick my ass!”

I took hold of my straining cock and rubbed at it with long solid strokes.

“I’m going to count down from ten. When I get to one, you are going to cum for me,” she paused, obviously lost in the moment, her hips thrusting into my face. “Ten… Good boy, lick my ass. Mmmm. Nine. Stroke your cock. Yeah, I know you want to cum, but you have to wait.”

She was right. My body was starting to shake with anticipation. Pre-cum was leaking from the head of my throbbing dick. I desperately wanted her to get to “one,” but instinctively knew she would wait to time it with her own release.

“God… Ohhhhh, that’s it my dirty boy. Lick my ass baby, lick it, lick it. Eight… Seven… Siiiiiiiiixxxx,” the lust in her voice was palatable. “Five… yeeeeesssss, you love my ass don’t you, you fuck. You like it when I fucking play with my pussy. Fuuuuckkkk… Four… I know you’re getting close. Oh, darling, you so good at licking my ass. Jerk off for me; play with that hard cock for me! Rub it faster – harder!”

Her body was rocking hard against me, while her hand moved wildly, in and out of her pussy. Her breathing was heavy and strong. I could feel her muscles begin to tense. Her release was not far and I knew mine would soon follow.

“Three… Two… Arggggghh… Are you ready to cum,” she asked?

My body was thrashing violently. All I could manage was a guttural, begging groan.

“One!... Oh, CUM FOR MEEEE… AAaaaaggrrrrrhhhhh! FUCK, Fuuuuuuuuck!”

She convulsed and threw her head back. Every muscle in her body shook from the pressure and then released and then shook again. I came with a vengeance. Involuntarily I gritted my teeth and slammed my eyes shut. All I could hear was the blood flowing through my ears, making the sound of rushing water. The world seemed to fall away. My white liquid shot from me in long thick strands, landing on the chair and splashing on her arm, while the last flowed out till it was only a dribble landing in small blobs on the floor.

Slowly she stood up, pulling her ass from my face.

“Darling, go get me a wet cloth, and while you are there,” she spoke, never turning to look at me, her right hand rested on her hip, “go ahead and rinse your face off.”

“Yes Dear,” I said, gently.

I jumped up and did what was requested. When I returned, she had not moved from in front of the chair. She seemed to be in a quiet world all her own. Her head was tilted back, as if she were studying something on the ceiling. Without really turning, she offered me her arm and I cleaned off the mess I had left there. Then she brought her attention back to me and looked me in the eye while she stepped to the side of the chair. Her head then turned. I followed her gaze to the mess I had created on the chair and floor. She watched without a word as I again dropped to my knees and wiped up all the traces of my seed. When I finished I looked up at her, eager for her approval.

“I like that,” she paused, “Dear.” She nodded with a thoughtful frown in agreement as she said it again, “Dear.”

I smiled broadly, “Yes Dear.”

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That was such an amazing experience, for both of us.

I opened my mouth widely and yawned, stretching my jaw and lips but not really gaining any extra oxygen. My yawn brought me back to reality. I lifted my head and looked at the clock again, 4:03 am.

My movement had disturbed my wife. With a deep breath she rolled over and positioned her back against my front. My face nuzzled into her neck and my arm instinctively wrapped around her waist.

“Everything ok, darling?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes Dear.”
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