John's marriage to Sara is in terrible trouble when John stumbles onto what he prays will be the solution.
To look at me you’d think my life was perfect. I just completed my apprenticeship and was now a journeyman plumber, earning more than $35 an hour. With overtime I expected to earn about $70,000 this year, not too shabby for a 23 year old kid. I was married to a beautiful, sexy, and intelligent woman who had a great job as a math teacher in our local high school. We had what I thought was an extremely satisfying sex life, too. The problem was that we were just a hairsbreadth from losing it all. We argued every day about virtually everything. We both wanted to be in charge and were constantly battling for supremacy. I may not have gone to college, but I knew that one of us was going to have to back off. Otherwise, our marriage was doomed. Obviously, I couldn’t demand that she do it—she’d see it as just one more attempt to run the show and control her. No…I’d have to be the one.
“Sara,” I called from the living room, “can we talk, please?”
“I don’t know, John. All we seem to do is yell at each other. What’s the point?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss. It seems to me that one of us has to back off and let the other run everything. That’s our only hope.”
“So, I guess you want me to do it. What a surprise!”
“No…I’m going to do it. I’m handing you the reins. You can run everything—make all the decisions. I’ll follow you.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one. I hate that we always argue. I love you and I think that you love me, too. I’ll make any sacrifice for us to be happy together.”
Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you really mean it, John?”
“Yes…I really do. I want us to stay married and be happy. Let’s face it--neither of us has been happy for a while now, have we?”
“That’s about the only thing we have agreed on. Okay, I’ll give it a try, but I want to check some things on the internet. Are you using the computer now?”
“No, and even if I was I’d give it up for you.” I stood and kissed Sara’s cheek. She pulled me into a long lingering kiss, whispering, “Thank you,” when she broke it. She kissed my cheek and left, going directly to the computer for her research.
Sara took things slowly at first as if testing my resolve—whether I really was stepping back or just shooting my mouth off. I really tried, but I’m not perfect. Things were better, but not ideal over the next month. There were several times when I lost track of the big picture and argued over some inconsequential thing I had disagreed with, only to apologize when Sara gave me that steely stare she had perfected in her classroom. A major sticking point for us had always been doing the housework. My mother had always done it when I was a kid living at home. I naturally assumed that Sara would do it in our household. She felt the responsibilities should be shared, thus the arguments. What I failed to consider was that Sara worked as many hours at her job as I did at mine.
I had come home late one evening—around seven-- from some overtime on what was really a rush job—providing water for a nursing home whose pipes had burst in the recent cold spell. I was wet and tired and cold, and I was looking forward to a good hot dinner. I had tried several times to call, but there was no answer; Sara was not home when I got in. She had left a note on the refrigerator:
“John, I hope you remember what I told you about the parent conferences this week. I will be home really late. My last conference is scheduled for 9:00. Help yourself to the leftovers from Sunday’s dinner. Please vacuum the living room and bedroom once you’re done. Love, Sara”
The old John would have screamed and swore for half an hour before going out for a pizza and then told Sara off once she was home. What was more important—my dinner or her stupid conferences? Instead, I took a look at the rooms; I could see they were dirty. It was the first time that I recognized that Sara worked as many hours as I did and probably just as hard. I changed out of my wet clothes and found one of those fluffy dusting things that I’d seen Sara use many times and got to work. I dusted the entire apartment and then I vacuumed the carpets and the tile floors in the kitchen and bathroom. I finished by washing those floors on my hands and knees, drying them with an old towel. Only when I was finished did I take my shower and eat my cold dinner. I had only been into my sandwich and watching TV for about five minutes when Sara walked in at about 9:30.
She looked around for a minute before asking why I was just eating. I explained about the emergency work and getting home late. I didn’t have to tell her about cleaning the entire apartment. I figured out that she would see that herself. “John,” she began, “why did you clean up if you were so late? I didn’t intend for you to eat at 9:30.”
“Honestly…I was afraid…afraid it would cause another argument so I did it.”
“Oh, John, I left the note for you assuming you’d get home around 4:30. I didn’t want you working all evening. It could have waited, but…once again…thank you.” I was hoping she’d suggest we go to bed, but she didn’t. I was really confused by the way this was going. I had thought she’d grab the reins, take control, and crack the whip, forcing me into submission immediately. She didn’t and I sometimes felt like I was adrift. I didn’t know what I could or should do so most of the time I did nothing, or I argued and fought with her about it.
It was roughly a month later that she told me she wanted to talk again. “What do you think about the past month, John? Please be honest.”
I sighed before replying, “Better, but not perfect. I forget my promise sometimes and I’m not always sure what you want from me. I’m often confused and I’m afraid I’ll make a big mistake. I’m sorry. I’m trying…honest, but sometimes my mind is elsewhere. I’ll try to do better.”
“I think you will and I agree about things being better, but we are still arguing two to three times a week. That will never do. I’ve done a lot of research, both online and in person. What we’re trying is called a D/s or Dominant/submissive relationship. Some of what I’ve read has been nonsense. I disregard anything that’s fiction as being ridiculous, but there are several blogs and some textbooks I’ve found valuable—blogs written by both dominants and submissives, the books by supposed authorities in the field. One thing they all stress is that to be successful the relationship must be in effect 100 percent of the time. That means I have to be stronger and more dominant and I need to have a way to enforce my decisions—a means to remind you constantly of the nature of our relationship. So far I’ve only found two ways to do that—physical punishment and denial.”
“Physical punishment? You mean hitting me? I don’t think I could accept that. I was always taught that hitting another person was wrong.”
“I thought you’d say that, and I agree. I wouldn’t feel comfortable hitting you even if it was just a spanking which is why I think we should use denial. If you misbehaved or argued I would deny you orgasms. Obviously, I can’t just say, ‘no orgasms for three days.’ What would stop you from going into the shower and masturbating? Nothing! No…we would need something that would prevent you from having an orgasm without my permission. Do you follow me?”
“I think so. Does that mean we wouldn’t have sex any more?”
“No, darling, unless you argued or fought me, and even then I’d have to make sure that the punishment fit the crime. On the other hand, there is no reason why I should be punished, for your misdeeds, is there? I’ll explain that in a few minutes. I bought this for you…for us. It’s called a cock cage. Your penis fits into this tube and the handcuff locks behind your scrotum. I picked this one because you’ll be able to pee standing up and it will be secure, too. From what I’ve read most such devices would require you to sit like a woman. That could be really embarrassing. Let’s drop your pants and see how it fits.”
I was mortified, but this relationship was my idea so I was committed. I dropped my jeans and boxers. “Hmmm, I think this might catch and pull your hairs and hurt you so let’s go to the bathroom and shave you there. Don’t be embarrassed, from what I’ve read a lot of guys shave and, if it will make you feel better, I’ll do it, too.” I shrugged my shoulders and followed Sara into the bathroom, my pants and boxers slung over my shoulder.
She filled the basin with hot water, soaked a small hand towel, and placed it over my groin. Scissors clipped the hair short and then she shaved all the hair from my balls and my abdomen around my cock. “I hope you were paying attention because now it’s your turn.” I followed her lead and soon her abdomen was as bare as mine was. Her labia stood out prominently and teasingly. She applied some talcum to each of us and brought out a string with a loop that she wrapped under my helmet. It was threaded into the tube and used to pull my cock through, the helmet just protruding at the end of the tube. Sara removed the string and locked the attached handcuff around the base of my scrotum. “Good, now you’re under my control. Is it too tight?”
“No, but it does feel kind of weird. I guess I’ll get used to it.”
“I hope so, but not too used to it. We currently have sex two to three times a week and I expect to continue that, but it will be up to you, won’t it? I will still have sex that often even if you can’t. You will have to service me with your mouth on those occasions when you are being punished. If you cooperate fully that won’t be often. I read that a lot of submissive men have very small penises that can’t satisfy their wives. Fortunately, that doesn’t apply to you. However, I want to work with you on orgasm control. You cum much too quickly for me and I’m usually left unsatisfied. Taking better care of me will go a long way to making things better between us.” Sara kissed me and went to make dinner while I looked in the mirror at my captive cock, wondering why I had gotten involved in this. Of course, I knew. I wanted our marriage to survive and this seemed to be the only way. I put my pants back on and went to help Sara.
“John…set the table while I handle the stove.”
“Oh…okay,” I replied reluctantly. I opened the drawer for the silverware, but Sara stopped me.
“John, if I’m going to run things for us you need to understand how much work it is and how much responsibility. I would appreciate it greatly if you would address me more respectfully.”
“I’m not sure I know what you want, Sara. What do you want me to do? Should I call you ‘Mistress?’ That sounds kind of phony.”
“Yes, it does, but how about “Ma’am? That’s respectful, but seems more real, don’t you agree?”
“Thank you, John…for everything. I hope that will also help remind you so you can avoid arguing and fighting and being punished. I can’t condition you if you’re not allowed to cum. Don’t worry, I’ll explain after dinner when we have our first session.” She kissed me again, giving me just enough incentive to cooperate fully with her wishes.
After dinner she “asked” me to do the dishes—it wasn’t much of a job—while she prepared the bedroom. I walked in fifteen minutes later after taking out the trash and wiping down the countertops and table. The dishes were in the dishwasher. I could see that she had fitted ropes to the four corners of the bed. “Take off your clothes and lie down, John. I’ll explain what’s going to happen once I have you secured. Don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt you.” I trusted Sara so I complied willingly. I was tied down and helpless five minutes later, spread-eagled on the bed. She removed her clothes and knelt naked between my legs.
“Okay, John…I’m going to masturbate you, but I want two things from you. First, I want you to hold off as long as you can. Second, I want you to tell me when you’re really close so I can stop. Then we’ll wait a bit and do it again. I want to see if we can lengthen the time you can hold it back. I’m pretty sure you can do it and, as an incentive, if you work with me we’ll do it again tomorrow night and every night except those occasions when we make love. If you don’t it will be a week before we try again and there will be no orgasms for you during that time. Now, repeat to me what I want you to do.”
“I’m supposed to…oh, God this will be tough…hold off cumming and tell you when I’m ready so you can stop. Am I going to cum after all this teasing?”
“Yes, but when I say you’re ready. I know it will be hard for you, but remember who’s making the decisions now.” She leaned down to kiss me, rubbing her hard nipples against my chest, and then took a bottle of baby oil from her dresser. She unlocked the cock cage and slipped it from my penis which reacted immediately. I was hard in seconds, my cock aching for release. I was amazed at the psychological impact of the cock cage. I felt like my entire body was imprisoned instead of just my cock. Sara started the kitchen timer and went to work on my cock. She stroked me at a constant speed once she had dribbled baby oil over my throbbing cock. Her hands glided up and down my slippery tool. I could reel a rumbling in less than two minutes. I had never realized how quickly I would be ready to cum. No wonder she was always pissed at me. I tried to concentrate—to divert my attention from the state of my cock and balls. I tried to hold back, but I knew I’d need her help. “Sara!” I called out, praying that I hadn’t waited too long. She pulled her hands away immediately. My cock throbbed and pulsed and shook, but, thankfully, I did not cum. She stopped the clock at 2:27—two minutes and twenty-seven seconds-- writing it in a small notebook. I was already a mess both physically and mentally.
“Okay, John…let me get you some water while you rest and then we’ll try again. I don’t know how many times we’ll try it tonight; I think your body will tell us what you can handle.” We tried three more times building to 3:19. I was a physical wreck before she finally relented and allowed me to orgasm. I came--unbelievably hard--huge globs of semen raining onto my chest as I sagged back into the bed exhausted.
“I think that was good progress, John—almost a fifty percent improvement despite your elevated level of stimulation. I appreciate how hard you were working. Let’s get a shower and relax for the rest of the evening.”
“Okay…thanks…Ma’am.” Sara smiled, one of the few I’d seen in recent months and pulled me to the shower. I washed her first and then she washed me. I ran the foamy soap over her delectable body, spending an inordinate amount of time on her breasts and ass. She pressed her breasts against my back as she washed my chest, abdomen, and cock. She locked me up again once we were dry. I felt better about our relationship than I had in a long, long time.
We continued my “conditioning” as Sara called it every night. I appreciated the opportunity to cum so often, however I would have preferred to fuck my wife rather than being jerked off, but it wasn’t my decision, was it? Over the next three weeks I was able to build my time up to 4:36, almost double my initial time. Additionally, she was now jerking and stopping as many as ten times a night. Now Sara added another dimension, requiring that I eat her pussy sometime during the process. She told me she wasn’t sure whether it would be best in the beginning, middle, or end. In time we realized that I would be most motivated near the end when I was desperately horny and most frustrated, but in real life that couldn’t be the determining factor. I had to be ready to perform whenever Sara wanted it and as often as needed.
I was clumsy and inefficient when my training began. I was one of those guys who thought it unmanly to lick any woman’s pussy even though I expected her to perform on me. Thankfully, Sara was patient, using her superb instructional skills to guide me, and—believe me—I was a terrible pupil. Several times she had to threaten me with denying me orgasms before I began to see the light. Sara taught me to go slow, to savor the taste and texture of her silky thighs before moving gradually to her core. I learned to love the taste of her, even though she sometimes made me do it when she was dirty—sweaty and smelly after a long day in class. Even then I came to enjoy bringing her off. Back before this had begun I had thought we had a sensational sex life. I learned that it was sensational, but only for me. She did all the work; I reaped all the benefits. I often asked her to suck my cock and even swallow when I returned home from work even though I was filthy.
We had been six months into the conditioning program and I had made what I thought was excellent progress. “Ma’am,” however wasn’t all that impressed. The last time we made love I became over-excited and lost control, cumming long before she was ready. I cried like a baby at my failure. Sara responded kindly, telling me, “Rome wasn’t built in a day, John. At least you understand now that you failed. That alone is a major step forward, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, Ma’am, but it’s still a failure. I feel like I let you down.”
“It only means that we haven’t reached the end of our journey yet. It means we still have work to do. I have another idea I want to try. It means a lot more work for you—and me, too. I’m willing…are you?”
“Yes, Ma’am; you know I’ll do anything for us to be successful as a couple.”
“I believe you, John. You’ve made tremendous progress and you’ve worked very hard. I think we’re more than halfway there—sexually, at least. There are still some other things to accomplish, but let’s not try to do too much at once.”
The next night she added that “one more thing,” allowing me to cum only after she had given permission. Night after night—month after month-- it was driven into my head that I needed her permission to have an orgasm. I was reminded of my junior high science teacher who had told us about Pavlov’s dogs with me in the starring role as the lead dog. Sara also used the verbal reinforcement—my constantly calling her “Ma’am” to advantage. I was reminded often of my status as her willing servant. That’s basically what I was—her servant—although she didn’t take advantage. Given our relative positions she could have made me do anything—all the housework, the cooking, everything, but she didn’t. She made sure I did my share, but she was fair about it, doing much of the work herself. On the positive side our arguments had ended long ago and I was optimistic about our future for the first time in ages.
Then one day, after being conditioned daily for more than five months, I was to be tested. Once again, I was tied to the bed, but this time Sara mounted my hard cock. She rode me furiously for more than eighteen minutes. I was turned on and brought all the way to the edge, but I was unable to finish no matter how hard I tried. Sara meanwhile had cum twice. I felt good about that and I felt even better when she told me, “You have my permission, John…cum now!” My cock felt like it had exploded. I drove into her tight cunt over and over, leaving a long rope of slippery semen each time until I was spent. Sara fell to my chest and untied my hands so I could hold her. It was wonderful. It was the most incredible sexual experience of my life, one in which both of us—independently and together—had reached our goal.
I realized the full impact of her training the following night when she placed me into the bed and told me to masturbate. I was embarrassed at first—jerking off while she was watching me-- but I tried everything—lube, condom, finger in my asshole to stimulate my prostate, sucking on her pussy, kissing her—all to no avail until she gave me her permission. I blew as soon as she said the words. Once I was done I broke down and bawled. “You’ve made me into a robot. I’m nothing without you. What have you done to me?”
“Look at the upside, John. Now we can have real sex whenever we want knowing that you’ll be able to satisfy me every time. You’re going to take care of me and I’m going to take care of you. That’s a promise. You made a tremendous sacrifice for me. I know you’re not truly submissive, yet you have been submissive to me for more than a year and a half. I love you all the more for it.” She laid on top of me, ignoring the gallon of semen on my chest as she kissed me, her tongue actively exploring my mouth. She was about to lead me to the shower, but I begged her for the opportunity to lick her. She smiled down kindly at me before speaking. ”That’s another big improvement for you, John. I remember all too well that you used to refuse. Now I think you might actually like it.”
“I do, Ma’am. I find I enjoy making you happy. I love the way you taste. I was a fool. May I, please Ma’am?” I stood and placed her gently at the edge of the bed so I could kneel before her—between her sweet legs. I began this time by lifting each of her feet and kissing it. I sucked each of her toes on one foot while I massaged the sole of the other. Once done there I began to kiss my way up her legs. When I reached her knees I licked my way up each thigh. I’d been thinking about trying something new and now was as good a time as any. I wrapped my lips around her entire cunt and sucked for all I was worth. I could almost feel the blood rushing in to her labia and clit. I knew I was doing well when she groaned audibly for almost a minute.
I fucked her tunnel with my tongue while tickling her clit with my nose. Bending my tongue up brought it into contact with her G-spot with every thrust. I knew from experience that she loved this—it was a sure way to bring her to a thunderous orgasm. My tongue had gained in strength over the months of eating her pussy; I could keep this up all night if necessary. Sara reacted strongly, squeezing my head between her thighs as her orgasm took over her body. She shook repeatedly as spasm after spasm wracked her body. I held her in place until she had come down then I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.
I warmed the water and washed her sensational body. Sara probably could have been a swimsuit model if she wanted to. She was tall—five feet ten inches and 126 pounds—with a curvy figure and absolutely great breasts. While I adored her breasts, she thought her ass was her best feature; it was my second favorite. She had long reddish brown hair that fell straight to her shoulders and the brightest green eyes I had ever seen.
We had first met when my company was contracted to replace a bathroom in her parents’ home. I was a second year apprentice and she had just completed her sophomore year at college. We chatted while I worked, but I thought it improper to try to date a customer’s daughter. However, when we met later in the summer at the supermarket I asked her out. I knew she was out of my class—I was an aspiring plumber; she was an aspiring professional. I was okay-looking; she was spectacular. I was shocked when she accepted.
Our first date was a disaster. I took her to a bar even though we were both too young to drink, but she went out with me again and again and again. I learned to appreciate museums and galleries; she learned to appreciate softball and bowling; we both loved the beach. Then, somehow, she agreed to marry me. I was the luckiest man on the planet and I had almost blown it.
I helped her from the shower and dried her gently before she pointed to the razor and soap. Kneeling I repeated what had by now become a ritual for us—shaving each other’s pubic hair. I stood, still dripping, once I had finished with her. She guided the razor over my skin with expertise. I stood there when she was done, expecting her to replace the cock cage. Instead, she led me back to the bedroom.
“I don’t think we’ll need that any more, do you, John? You proved tonight that you need my permission to cum. My control is in your mind now, not on your cock. I have something else for you now. I bought it in anticipation of tonight.” She reached into her night table and removed a wrapped package. She handed it to me, smiling as she did. “Congratulations, John; you’ve worked hard to earn this.”
I opened the box, dropping the wrapping paper onto the floor. Inside the box was a sterling silver chain, heavy with big links, but short—just big enough to encircle my neck. “This is your new sign, John…your new reminder of our relationship—of your devotion to me. I had it made short because I know that jewelry can be dangerous in your job. You no longer need the cage. I’m sure you would have been terribly embarrassed if any of your friends or co-workers had seen it. I wouldn’t want that any more than you would. Please keep it on you at all times as a sign of my love and my respect for my husband.” She took it from me and clasped it around my neck.
It looked to be about an inch longer than my neck, making it a comfortable fit, but not one I would have to worry about. I dropped to my knees and hugged her legs. “Thank you, Ma’am. I love it and I love you.”
Sara held my face and kissed me, “And I love you, John. We still have a lot of work to do. We have our sexual problems solved. It’s time to move on to the next one. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now let’s go to bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Sara pulled me up into the bed. I lay on my back with Sara draped over my left side, her head lying gently on my shoulder.
We sat at the breakfast table sipping our coffee when Sara asked me what I had learned during the first eighteen months of what she termed our experiment. I thought for a moment before responding, “I learned…that I wasn’t much of a husband for you. I thought I was, but I wasn’t. I behaved like a selfish kid instead of a mature man. I thought our sex life was wonderful and I guess it was for me. I never thought about your needs…not even once. I’m sorry for being such a fool. I think part of it was that I’m insecure about…you know…you being a college grad while I’m not.”
Sara’s eyes flared. I could see that she was angry. “John, I never want to hear you talk like that again. Do you think college makes a person better or smarter? Take my word for it—it doesn’t. Do you think I would marry a stupid person? I wouldn’t and I didn’t. You are a smart man, probably smarter than a lot of the kids I went to college with. You have a high paying and satisfying job. I read last week that almost half of last year’s graduating class is still unemployed and living at home with their parents. You make much more than I do, don’t you? You should be proud of your accomplishments, not ashamed. Now come here and kiss me.”
“Yes, Ma’am…I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you have to kiss me?”
“Uh, no Ma’am; sorry I can be such a fool sometimes.”
“You’re not a fool, John…you’re human.” She leaned forward and we kissed. It wasn’t passionate, but it was sweet and tender. I loved Sara and now I knew how much she loved me, too. I was still insecure, though, because I knew her friends—all proud of being college graduates—were real snobs who looked down on me. I was always afraid that Jan, her best friend and co-worker, would poison her against me. I was terrified when Sara told me we were going to a party at her house. I begged her to let me stay home, but she refused. “This is one of the things we need to work on, John. You need to learn better social skills. You’re okay with your drinking buddies, but when it comes to my friends you’re totally lost. You’re going…period.”
“It’s not that I’m lost, Ma’am. Your friends don’t like me. They don’t think I’m good enough for you and Jan is the worst. She’s a real snob. I’m sorry, Ma’am, but that’s the truth.”
“John…that is not the truth and I’ll prove it to you.” I held my head down so she couldn’t see the tear forming in my eye. I’d do as I was told, but I wouldn’t like it. I had never told Sara, but Jan had cornered me at our wedding, telling me over and over what a loser I was and that’s she’d convince Sara that she had made a big mistake marrying me.
I dreaded the upcoming weekend. I had pretty much abandoned my friends from high school. Sara did not approve of my going drinking with them after work. She pointed out successfully that they were all still single while I was married. They had nowhere to go while I had a wife waiting at home for me. They accused me of being pussy whipped—if they only knew. One quick look at my imprisoned cock would have told them more than I wanted them to know. I threw them aside for my wife. I was alone except for her.
Sara disliked driving in my truck even though it was almost new and her crummy Chevy was six years old. I drove it that night because her car was in the shop yet again. I’d try to convince her to get a new one that would be more reliable, but now I was steeling myself for the ordeal of the party. I had washed and cleaned the entire vehicle until it shined knowing that we’d need it and how Sara disliked riding in it. We brought a cold case of beer with us and I carried it into the kitchen. I was loading it into the refrigerator when I heard Jan behind me, “Beer…I might have known. Haven’t you ever heard of wine or vodka? Poor Sara, having to put up with the likes of you.” I just smiled and finished what I was doing before rejoining Sara in the living room. She introduced me to some of the other guests, most notably Phil, Jan’s boyfriend and Roger. She told me he was a psychologist at her school. “Ah, yes…John, Sara has told me all about you.” He pulled me aside, away from the group. “I’d like to speak with you…about your relationship with Sara, but not here. Can you come to my home tomorrow…in the morning? I think you’ll find it worthwhile. Ask Sara…she knows how to get there.” He clapped his hand against my shoulder and wandered away. On the outside I was calm, but inside I was boiling.—furious that Sara had discussed our private business with an outsider.
I stood there for almost a minute looking at Sara chatting idly with Jan and a few of her friends from school. I wished I could be anywhere but there at the moment. I was feeling really sorry for myself when I heard someone behind me. “I’m on strict orders not to let anyone stand around alone. Hi, I’m Phil, Jan’s boyfriend.”
“Oh…hi, I’m John, Sara’s husband.” We shook hands and chatted for a while before he said he’d do anything for a beer. “Jan thinks it’s a lower class thing…won’t let me drink it. That wine is okay, but it’s not very thirst quenching.” I grabbed him by the arm and led him to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and handed him a cold one, taking one for myself. “Ah, thanks, John; I could really use this.” He downed almost half the can in a single gulp. I sipped mine, afraid that I’d get drunk and embarrass Sara. I would be especially careful because of Jan’s feelings about me.
We talked a while and I found I enjoyed Phil’s company. I learned that he was an accountant, or actually that he had a degree in accounting, but was unemployed. He hadn’t been able to find a job in the past two years since graduating from college. “It’s all I hear about from Jan. Truthfully, I’m getting tired of it.”
“You know, my boss is looking for someone to do his books. That’s accounting, isn’t it? He had this lady doing it, but she got knocked up and she’s quitting—going to marry the guy and retire. I’d be glad to talk to him about you. I don’t think it’ll be full-time; she only worked two days a week, but it’s better than nothing. Here, I’ll write down the info—Ralph’s Plumbing, Ralph Newton; he’s the boss and a really decent guy.” I wrote down the address and phone number.
He put the card into his pocket and we talked about sports. He was a big Chicago Bulls fan while I rooted for the Heat. We argued amiably about the merits of each team for more than an hour, wandering to another room. I returned somewhat later for another couple of beers when I heard Jan raving about me to Sara, “Sara, you’ve got to be nuts. What were you thinking—marrying that goofball? He’s worthless. You could have gotten anyone from college or even one of the teachers in the high school. Someone with your looks could write your own ticket. God, Sara, what were you thinking—a plumber of all things—someone who handles other peoples’ shit for a living.” I turned and walked back to Phil. I hoped my face wouldn’t show how embarrassed I was. I went back ten minutes later to find the kitchen unoccupied. I grabbed two beers, wishing I could get terribly drunk. Sara found me before I had finished and told me we were leaving. I said good-bye to Phil, took Sara’s hand and walked out the door to the truck.
I was silent most of the way home and so was Sara. I was surprised that we had left so early; it was only a bit past eleven. Finally, I got up the nerve to speak, “I spoke to that Roger guy. He said you told him all about me…all about us. How could you? I’m sorry to be disrespectful, but I thought that was private.”
“It was private, John, and it still is. Roger is a psychologist. He was a big help with the conditioning program. He showed me what to do and how to do it. Hasn’t that worked out well for us? Everything I said to him is confidential. That’s why he asked you to his house tomorrow…so nothing would be said in front of the others.”
“He told me you had been to his house.”
“Yes, I have, John—to talk about you and us in privacy. There’s no privacy in school, even in his office. There are always kids coming and going. I had to see him in privacy and there’s nothing between us. You’ll understand better when you see him tomorrow.”
“Who says I’m going?”
“I am, John. I want you to see Roger; it will be good for you. Will you trust me on this? You’ve trusted me so far. Just trust me a little more…please.”
“I heard what Jan said to you.”
“I thought I saw you in the dining room. You should have stayed so you could hear what I said back to her. I told her that I was the luckiest woman on earth. I told her that you had a good paying responsible career. I reminded her that you earn more than Jan and me combined and that there was nothing wrong with doing any kind of honest work. I laughed when she compared you to her boyfriend Phil who’s still looking for a job after two years and lives with his parents. He’s still a boy, John. You’re a man—my man. You were right—Jan’s a colossal snob. She’s still my friend, but you’re my husband. I love you, not her and I always will.”
I turned into the parking lot and pulled into the slot, stopping and shutting off the truck. I turned to Sara; there were tears in my eyes. I had always been insecure about Sara. I thought she was much better than I was and I still did. She looked at me for a second then reached across the console and pulled me into a long demanding kiss. She broke it a minute later and we got out of the truck, walking hand in hand to our door, Sara leaning against my body.
We were barely in the door when she directed me to the bedroom. “Take off your clothes, John. I want you naked then you can get me naked, too. We have some unfinished business tonight.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I practically ripped my clothes off and kissed her neck as I removed her blouse and bra, her skirt and stockings. I was never allowed to initiate sex, but once we started I had carte blanche with her body. I took advantage of that rule now, laying her back on the bed while I dove between her legs. I ate that delicious pussy with passion that even I had rarely exhibited. I kissed every inch of those long sweet legs before moving up to her bald sex which oozed her musky nectar. I lived to hear her groans of delight, bringing her to her first orgasm of the evening.
Sara pulled me up onto the bed with her. We kissed as she licked and sucked her nectar from my lips and cheeks. She pushed me onto my back and lowered herself onto my rock hard flagpole. Sara rocked against my abdomen, grinding her clit into me with incredible strength and force. It was almost fifteen minutes later that she came again. She seemed exhausted when she collapsed onto my chest. She rested there for a few minutes before rising again.
“Now you’ll see the benefit of all that conditioning, John.” She moved down my body until her mouth was just over my slimy cock, covered with layer after layer of her secretions. If she had any second thoughts about sucking my filthy cock she never showed them. She licked from my balls up to my tip, running her tongue around my helmet before swallowing my entire eight inches in a single gulp. I was amazed—she had never been able to get even half of it into her mouth before. She bobbed up and down for almost five minutes, driving me crazy with lust and desire and need.
Sara smiled lovingly as she rose slightly above my cock. She whispered the words I desperately wanted to hear, “You have my permission, John…cum now!” My cock erupted into her mouth; she swallowed and sucked every drop from my organ. I was completely drained from the experience.
“Tomorrow morning you’ll go to see Roger. He’s expecting you at ten. When you come home we’ll have another talk. Now let’s go to sleep. I need it; you did a wonderful job on me tonight.”
“Thank you, Ma’am; you did pretty well yourself.” I kissed Sara, pulled up the blanket and we fell quickly to a deep sleep.
I was up early as usual to make Sara’s breakfast, something I did virtually every morning, following the menu directions she had posted on the refrigerator door the previous evening. This morning she called for bacon and egg sandwiches on hard rolls that she had bought yesterday. Sara always planned ahead. I walked back into the bedroom at 8:30 to wake her. We kissed good morning and I walked her out to the kitchen. We ate quietly until she spoke, “I know you’re nervous about speaking with Roger this morning. You have to trust me on this—it’s something you have to do for both of us. You will understand once you have spoken with him.” She leaned over to touch my forearm and stroke my cheek. She stood, kissed my face and gave me the directions to Roger’s house. I was still upset about this whole thing. I thought she had violated my privacy, but I trusted Sara so I went.
Roger lived in an old split-level home. I knew that this kind of house was popular in the fifties and sixties, but had grown out of favor since. I rang the bell and was surprised when someone other than Roger answered. “You must be John. C’mon in, I’m Stan Levine, Roger’s partner.” I shook his hand and followed him into the house. I knew now why Roger had never been a threat to me or our marriage. “Roger and Sara have shared their knowledge of you with me. I’m a psychiatrist at County Hospital. I hope we’ve been able to help you. That’s all Roger and I ever wanted. Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a pot.”
“No, thanks; I just want to find out what’s going on here. Is that too much to ask?”
“Not at all, John.” I turned to find Roger entering behind me. “Please have a seat, John so I can explain. When Sara first sought my counsel I was sure she was going to file for divorce from you. She was miserable and it was beginning to affect her work at school. That’s why she sought my advice. I admit I was astonished a few weeks later when she told me of your offer. It’s what saved your marriage and her, too. You should be very proud of yourself. Very few men would ever even think of something like that let alone actually do it.
“Sara has told me several times that you are concerned about what she’s done to you, so let me ask you—what do you think she has done to you? I think that will be a good starting point.”
“She made it impossible for me to have an orgasm without her. That scares the living hell out of me. What would I do if she left me? I’d be as good as dead.”
“John, you have to ask yourself why she did that. Have any idea?”
“Of course, she wanted to be able to get off…have an orgasm during sex.”
“Correct, but why did she do that?”
“God, don’t you ever stop with the ‘why’s?’”
“No, John…can you please answer the question?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t know why other than to have orgasms.”
“Okay, let’s look at the bigger picture. There’s a key reason for everyone’s actions and there’s a key reason why Sara did everything she did with you. Once you understand that reason you’ll understand the why’s and wherefore’s of Sara’s actions.”
“I have to assume she did it for our marriage.”
“Good, John, you’ve made the first critical connection. So, why do everything she did with you?”
“Uh…to help me change? So I’d be a better husband?”
“Right again, so what has she done to you?”
“I know that I’ve changed…a lot. I think I’m a better husband for her than I was before. I understand her better and I accept her more.”
“You’re right on track, but I think you’re much too modest to ever get the final step. What she’s doing with you is turn you into…the perfect husband—her ideal match. Stop and think about it for a second. You’re concerned that she might leave you. Why would she? Where else would she possibly get a man who would sacrifice EVERYTHING for her? Where else could she find someone who always places her and her needs first? Isn’t that what you do now, John?”
“When this all started I thought you were incredibly lucky to have her. Now I think she’s unbelievably lucky to have you. You have given her the ultimate gift—yourself. How could anyone ever surpass that?” I sat there dumbfounded. I was worried that Sara might leave me and what she was doing was cementing our relationship forever. I felt like a fool.
“I feel like a fool. I should have trusted Sara more.”
“You’re a human being, John and an extremely fine one, but none of us can possibly know everything. I hope I’ve helped you understand how much Sara loves you. Incidentally, I did overhear Jan’s comments about you last night and I want you to know I couldn’t possibly disagree more. You’re one of the finest people I’ve ever met. I wish you both the very best, but that will be up to the two of you, won’t it?” I rose, thanked him profusely, and drove home as quickly as possible to my wife—my wonderful wife.
Sara was seated on the stoop outside the door, rising when she saw me drive up. I ran up to her and pulled her into a long hug. “I love you,” I told her.
“I know, John…I’ve always known. I just had to show you that you did. You’ve placed me first and foremost every day for the past eighteen months. That makes me the luckiest woman ever. Who else would do that for me? Now it’s your turn.”
“Yes, what kind of relationship would we have if all I did was take from you? A good marriage requires that we give and take. I only have one problem—living up to the high standard you’ve set. I just hope I measure up. C’mon, we have to discuss some changes to our relationship. Did Roger tell you about the hypnosis? No? Then I’ll need to explain.” We went into the apartment and sat in the living room for hours. We talked to each other like we had never done before. I learned for the first time that she had decided way back when I was working in her parents’ house that I was the one for her. We didn’t just meet at the supermarket; she had been following me for days looking for the right opportunity for us to meet.
I also learned that she had planned all this out in advance during that first month, consulting with Roger almost daily. I had hated the thought of her discussing me with him; now I was so appreciative of the time and expertise he had given so freely. She also explained that Roger had hypnotized her to encourage her to perform better oral sex on me. I couldn’t believe how committed to me Sara had been and would be in the future. I finished the discussion by suggesting that we go to bed. Sara readily agreed even though it was only three in the afternoon. We stayed there all afternoon and evening, making beautiful love to each other, and completely forgetting about dinner in our rapture over each other. It made all the suffering and sacrifice I had made worthwhile.
There were major changes in our marriage after that. Sara no longer felt that she had to be so dominant. After the lengthy training period I was so conditioned to respect and care for her that I would continue that way for the rest of my life. Sara had explained that she had never felt comfortable being so controlling; she did it for us—so we would stay together successfully forever. My self esteem grew dramatically as I began to see myself differently. My performance at work was also improved and my boss complimented me on recommending Phil for his accounting.
Phil had followed up on Monday morning as I had suggested. He was hired after recommending that the business be computerized; he could do all the work as part of his responsibilities. He showed Ralph how he could streamline many of his operations—billing, inventory, accounts payable and receivable. Ralph also learned how to see how jobs were progressing at a glance using the computer as well as use it for estimates, something that saved him hours every day. The job was only two days a week, but Ralph had spoken glowingly to the electrician next door. A month later Phil had two part-time positions, taking up four days of the week. Within a month he was also working for the locksmith down the street and had a job paying a decent salary. The three employers agreed to chip in for health insurance and disability, making his opportunity a virtual full time position. I took some credit, having told Ralph that he could easily lose someone of Phil’s caliber to a major corporation. Apparently, he agreed. Everyone was happy, even Jan.
I saw Phil occasionally in the early morning while I was preparing for the day’s work or at the end of the day if I wanted to gather materials for a job the following day. Phil had instituted an inventory system that logged every item removed from the shop for a job; it made selecting materials and maintaining the inventory for tax purposes simple and foolproof. He told me he had never been happier. He also told me that he had proposed to Jan. She had accepted eagerly. They would have an engagement party the following Saturday and he wanted me to attend with Sara. I liked Phil and I was very happy for him, almost as happy as he was.
“I know that Jan has been very critical of you, but that’s just the way she is. If she knew you as well as I do she’d think differently.”
I took the high road, telling him that I’d never noticed any problem or concern with her. We chatted for a while until I had to get home. I always rushed home to spend time with my wife. Sara had run everything until I had met with Roger. I hadn’t been allowed to initiate sex and I had to follow her orders to the letter. After that day we talked a lot more, coming to consensus more often than not. Even when we didn’t completely agree we managed to resolve our issues without fighting or arguing. We were both very happy and now I really knew that we had a sensational sex life, one that was fantastic for both of us.
On Saturday evening I was actually looking forward to the party. I wanted to see Roger to thank him again and I felt partially responsible for Phil and Jan’s engagement. I drove the truck again; I really had to speak with Sara about getting a new car.
Jan and Phil welcomed us. Well, Phil welcomed us; Jan welcomed Sara. I placed the beer into the refrigerator and had brought a can to Phil and another to Sara when I heard a shriek from the kitchen. “My ring…it’s gone. Oh, God! It’s down the drain. It’s gone forever.”
I walked quickly to join her. “Relax, Jan…I’m sure I can get it back for you. Don’t run any more water, okay?” I walked out to my truck, returning with a large pair of adjustable pliers and my coveralls. I changed in the bathroom while Jan and Sara cleaned out the cabinet under the sink. It took me less than five minutes to remove the trap and pour its contents into a small saucepan. The ring clanged into the pan with the water. I replaced the trap and handed the ring to the grateful Jan.
Jan was ecstatic. She hugged me after she replaced the ring to her finger. “I was wrong, John, terribly and cruelly wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”
I looked at Sara who smiled at me with love in her heart. “For what,” I asked innocently. Sara smiled again and I smiled back knowing that I’d get a reward as soon as we got home. The rest of the party was a blast. Jan even insisted that I dance with her. I tried to refuse—I’m a terrible dancer—but she would not be deterred. Everyone, myself included, laughed at my awkward dance moves. The whole place was hysterical with laughter when the song ended. Later, Sara led me back to the dance floor for a really slow dance. I thought she just wanted an excuse to hold me. I thought at the time that we should dance more often. I’d never get enough of Sara’s delicious body.
Sara was right—I took care of her and she took care of me that night and for the rest of our lives. We made love virtually every night except when one of us was sick. Nothing ever stopped us from expressing our love for each other. I laughed when my coworkers and friends complained that their wives were disinterested in sex. I knew the secret, but I wasn’t telling. I never dreamed I could be so happy and what made me happiest was my service to my wife—something I’d never stop.