A couple struggles to find their identity. It’s a rocky road until She realizes how much she values her husband the way he is.
A couple struggles to find their identity. It’s a rocky road until they finally figure it out and she realizes how much she loves her husband the way he is.
It was Friday night, one of the three nights Melissa and I made love every week. The room was illuminated by several candles, making for an extremely romantic setting. We began as usual, holding and kissing each other, rubbing our hands over each other’s bodies before I climbed between her legs, rubbed the head of my cock into her slit, and fucked her. Tonight it was missionary—her choice. I started slowly as I always did. Ten minutes later I asked her to rub and pinch my nipples. “Not yet, honey—I want to see something--how you do without it.”
Discouraged, I had now pumped Melissa for more than a half hour, my cock becoming raw, when she asked the question—the question that would change my life, “Do you believe in gender equity?”
“Do you have to ask that now? Can’t you help me? I don’t understand…I’m having trouble cumming. I just can’t seem to get over the top. I’m so frustrated.”
“Okay, you can slow down. Just move it around slowly while we talk, okay? I’ll deal with it later. You never answered the question—do you believe in gender equity?”
“Should women be paid the same as men for doing the same job? Absolutely! Yes, I believe in that.”
“You already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”
“Okay, how about sexual equity?”
“Yes, Stephen—should women have the same right to have an orgasm as a man?” Yes or no?”
“Yes, I suppose they should.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because now we have even more to discuss. We have sex three times a week except when I have my period. Then I’m guessing it’s once. Would you agree?”
“Okay, where are you going with this?”
“I’m getting there. You have ten orgasms from fucking every month and how many from jerking off? Don’t deny it. I can smell it on your hankies. I’d guess twice a week and maybe an extra when I have my period. Would that be accurate?”
“That would mean ten with me and nine or ten by your hand for an average of nineteen to twenty a month. I get roughly one a month from you and I masturbate twice a month on average for three. I’d masturbate more often, but I don’t find it very satisfying. I do it out of desperation more than anything else. That means you’ve been getting seventeen a month more than me. Seventeen times twelve is….”
“Two hundred and four.”
“Thank you, Stephen—you always were better at math than me. We will be married six years in two weeks so 204 times six is…1,224. You owe me 1,224 orgasms.” I was about to speak, but Melissa held her fingers to my lips. “I recognized this problem two years ago and I decided to do something about it. I do love you Stephen, but you need to be more considerate in our sex life. That’s why I have conditioned you.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I was reading one of my psych journals when I saw a paper on conditioning. It was really about stopping smoking, but it made me think. That’s when I decided to condition you—to make you what the popular media would call a pain slut. You showed tonight that you can’t cum unless I hurt you—your nipples or your balls. I’m instituting a program to catch me up with you. You will eat my pussy multiple times a day—when we first get up, when you get home from work, and when we go to bed and at least one more on Saturday. That will get you 90 to 93 a month. You’re also going to go to church with me; I’ll credit you with one for that, too. That will get you to 97.” She knew how much I hated going to church. I thought that organized religion was just one more big business with a hierarchy that would make most Fortune 500 companies envious. Mostly, it was all BS.
“I have no desire to run this out forever so I’m making you do one other thing. You’ll do it if you want to cum once a week.”
“I hesitate to ask.”
“Every morning you’ll drink my urine. I’ll give you two for every time you do it.”
“You’re fucking crazy. Why would I want to do that?”
“Because like every other virile man you need to cum; I’ll bet you’ve had trouble jerking off lately, haven’t you?” I had, but I had no explanation until now.
I’d met Melissa at a happy hour in Manhattan one Friday afternoon when I was a fledgling analyst for a major stock brokerage. It was one of those companies that were considered too big to be allowed to fail. I had nothing to do with the Great Recession of 2008, but I knew several members of the firm who did. She was a psychologist at one of the city’s biggest hospitals. We hit it off right away, dated for six months and eloped to St. Thomas. My parents were involved in some fundamental church that hated the things that Melissa represented—Catholicism and medicine. I had realized years ago that they hated anyone not associated with their “church” although I would have called it a sect. Her parents had no such flimsy excuse—they just hated me. They blamed me for the recession that had cost her father his job. We weren’t discouraged—we eloped and never spoke to them again.
I’d had no idea that I wasn’t satisfying her in bed. “I wish you had told me this a long time ago, but why…why with the urine?”
“Think of it as penance. You sinned so now you have to do something to eliminate that sin.”
“I think you should give me at least five for that. I don’t think I could do it. It’s disgusting. ”
“Actually, it’s not. I wouldn’t ever ask you to eat shit. That is disgusting and it’s dangerous, too. People in plenty of societies around the world drink urine. Who knows, you might even like it.”
“Yeah, right. What happens if I refuse?”
“You’ll next cum when your debt is fully paid—a little over a year from now.” I knew she had me. I could never go that long without an orgasm.
“Okay.” I agreed reluctantly. I had no other choice. She had me by the balls.
“Good, now let’s take care of you. I’ll give you this one for free, but starting tomorrow I’ll keep count in my trusty calendar and I promise to be totally honest with you. If you do a good enough job with your tongue I may even throw in a bonus point now and then. ” She kissed me and whispered in my ear, “Fuck me, Stephen.” I began to pump her hard as she reached up to my nipples. Seconds later she had them pinched between her nails. It hurt like hell, but it was just what I needed. I came almost immediately.
It had all started so innocently two years ago. That’s what I thought until I learned otherwise tonight. We were making love, Melissa riding my cock as I played and teased her nipples and massaged her breasts. I was somewhat surprised when she reached down to rub my tiny nipples between her fingers. When she pinched them I felt a shock go through my system. It was like my nipples were hard-wired to my cock. I came like never before, lifting her more than a foot from the bed over and over until I was spent—until I was completely drained. When I asked her why she did it she simply told me it seemed like a good idea at the time. I had to agree.
After that she did it almost every time and the orgasms became better and better. My nipples had grown from all their abuse until now they were almost as big as hers. I didn’t mind; it just made twisting and pinching them all the easier. I realized now that she had conditioned me to associate the pain with orgasmic pleasure. A few months later she began playing with my balls, too. One hand on my balls and another on my nipple, she twisted both. The pain was incredible, but I had the most exquisite orgasm. I was jerking off because she had her period and she was helping me—she hated fucking during her period. There was a huge pool of semen on my chest and stomach. I had never seen so much in one place, even in porn.
It had continued—night after night, week after week, month after month—until now when she had me completely under her control. I owed her more than 1,200 orgasms and she intended to collect. I computed mentally—three a day times thirty was ninety; two points a day from drinking her urine would be sixty. Add in church and subtract any I’d have would be approximately 150 a month. At that rate it would be just over eight months, roughly 245 days—245 hefty drinks of her urine before I could quit. Would she let me? I had no way of knowing. Worse, I had no way of controlling the situation either.
I was a sweaty, as well as an emotional, mess so I got up for a shower to wash away the sweat that had rolled into my eyes as well as the vaginal secretions and semen on my abdomen. I had just entered when Melissa joined me. It was something she had rarely done. She liked the water a good ten degrees hotter than I could stand. She hugged me and gave me a kiss. It wasn’t torrid; neither of us was in the mood for that after sex, and especially not tonight when my world had collapsed.
“Why are you doing this? There must be some other way.”
“I’m doing it because I’m taking control of our lives—the sexuality, anyway. You’ll adjust fairly easily. I still love you and I will even more for the sacrifices you’ll make for me.” I turned around, washed myself, and left to dry myself for the second time tonight before going to bed to sleep. Instead, I lay awake for hours. I finally fell asleep only to be awakened by Melissa and dragged to the shower.
“We’ll do it here because I’m sure you’ll spill a lot in the beginning even though I’ll do it slowly enough for you to handle.” Reluctantly, I sat on the shower stall floor, closed my eyes and opened my mouth. I expected to feel her cunt, but instead she gripped my head and kissed my cheek. “I really do love you, Stephen, and now I’ll love you even more.” She kissed me again and stood to straddle my face.
Slowly the acrid yellow fluid dribbled into my mouth. I managed to get almost all of it down, but as soon as she was done it came back up. I vomited violently over her feet and the shower floor. I dry heaved for more than five minutes. I was so weak when it finally stopped that I could barely stand. I washed myself and cleaned the stall before joining Melissa in the bedroom.
Rather than ask how I was she just reclined on the bed and spread her legs. I knelt shakily and leaned forward to lick. Eating pussy was hardly my favorite, but I had no choice. Of course we could just divorce, but how would I get to cum then? Would it work if some other woman did it for me? It was something I didn’t want to think about. I loved Melissa and I knew she loved me. I would never cheat on her and, based on our conversation last night, I’d guess that she had never cheated on me either.
I lapped at her pussy, wishing I could convince her to shave or at least trim her hair. One of the reasons I was so reluctant was my hatred of hair in my mouth. I resolved to discuss it with her once I was done. Beginning at the edges I licked her clean, taking the time to suck these delicate tissues. It was several minutes before my tongue fucked her tunnel. By then she was running delicious juice. I couldn’t keep up with the flow. I knew I was getting to her when she began humping my face. I shifted gears and attacked her swollen bud. She came hard once I sucked it between my teeth. I knew I was done when she patted my head and told me, “Thank you. That was a great start.” Then, finally expressing concern she continued, “Are you okay, Stephen?”
“I don’t know. I have never had an experience like that before. I need to lie down a bit. I’m shaking all over and I’m feeling weak.” She helped me up and I lay on the bed to rest.
Melissa was gone—“shopping” the note said—when I rose to have some breakfast. I had just finished my tenth spoonful of Cheerios when I rushed to the sink. I vomited again, completely emptying my stomach. Once again, I suffered dry heaves for an extended period. I left the dishes and returned to bed. I ate nothing for the rest of the day.
Sunday morning Melissa woke me at seven, leading me again to the shower. I sat and she pissed into my mouth. As Yogi Berra once said, “It was déjà vu all over again.” I vomited my guts out all over the stall, even getting some of it onto Melissa’s naked legs. Again I couldn’t stop the heaving. It went on and on. Worse, I was afraid to even try eating. We showered and she drove me to church. I was feeling so badly I didn’t trust myself to drive. She prayed and sang and hugged people on command; I sat there, I didn’t sing, and I refused to hug anyone other than her. Melissa was not pleased.
“I’m not giving you any points for that.”
“Oh, yes you are. You said you wanted me to go to church with you. I agreed to do that and that’s what I did. You know how much I hate going to church. I never agreed to enjoy it or to be an active participant. You also told me you’d be completely honest and now you want to renege. Forget it; the way I’m feeling I should be home in bed.”
“Okay, I’ll give you your fucking point, but next week I’ll expect you to be civil if nothing else.” She fumed all the way home until she had me eat her pussy again. She did tell me she would think about trimming her pubic hair.
My tolerance for her urine did not improve either Monday or Tuesday and on Wednesday it was even worse—I lost everything before she was even half-way done. I was a physical wreck by the time I went to work.
It was well after 6:30, my usual time to return home, that night and I was nowhere to be seen. Melissa called my cell at seven, but I didn’t answer. She rang me over and over. I finally picked up the phone at 7:30. “Hello.”
“Stephen! Where are you? Why aren’t you home yet? Your dinner is ruined.”
“My dinner was ruined this morning when you made me drink your piss.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic. You’ll adjust. It’ll just take you longer than I thought. You didn’t answer—where are you?”
“I’m not overstating anything. I haven’t been able to keep anything down since Saturday morning. Every time I try to eat I throw it back up. I’m sitting in my car trying to decide if I’m willing to go through that for the next eight months or if I’m willing to end it now.”
“What do you mean, Stephen?” I could hear the alarm in her voice.
“I’m going to kill myself. It’ll save both of us a lot of pain. You don’t need me and you don’t want me either.”
“Stephen! That’s not true. Don’t do this. I do need you! I love you and I want to grow old with you.”
“Do you? You had all this planned out for years. Wouldn’t it have been better if you told me you weren’t satisfied? No—instead you turned me into a freak, a freak who can’t have an orgasm unless you hurt me. I can’t see the purpose to continue this. My whole body has been shaking for the last two days, that’s how sick I am over this.”
“Don’t…please, Stephen. Come home. I’m sure we can negotiate something else.”
“Negotiate, Melissa? You’ve got to be kidding. What do I have to negotiate with? The answer is nothing. Good bye, Melissa.”
“Please! Please don’t! I’ll….” I ended the call, looking down at my Walther PPX pistol on the seat next to me. It was a 9mm, big enough to blow a huge hole in my head. Melissa called; I let it go to voicemail. Again and again she called. Finally, after probably twenty attempts I picked up the phone. She spoke before I had the chance, “Thank God you’re okay. Stephen, you need to come home. I know you have your pistol. Please don’t use it. Come home to me. We can work out your penance.”
“Speaking about penance, how about yours? If anyone needs to do penance it’s you.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Isn’t lying a sin? ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness….’ Either you’ve been faking orgasms or you lied Friday night about how many you’ve had. Either way you’ve deceived me and rather than discuss a problem you’ve manipulated me without my knowledge. Don’t tell me that’s not a sin. You’re the one who needs to do penance. I spoke to a priest today. Yeah, that’s right I went to a church and talked to a priest. He told me that you have to know that what you’re doing is wrong in order for it to be a sin. I didn’t know I was doing wrong, but you certainly did.
“I’m leaving a note so the cops will know why and so they’ll know you’re the one to blame.”
“Oh, God…please…please…please, Stephen. I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Come home so we can talk.”
“Why didn’t we talk two years ago, or even before that? Have I ever refused you? Have I ever refused to listen?”
“No, you haven’t. I’m so sorry for putting you through this. No orgasm is as important to me as you are. Please come home. Please!” She was bawling now as much as I was. I ended the call, started the car, and drove home. It wasn’t far—just down the block. In my condition I didn’t think I could go much farther.
I didn’t have the strength to open the garage and walk back to the front door. I was dizzy and light headed. I left the car in the driveway and staggered to the door. Melissa was waiting. She must have heard me drive up. Her eyes were red and puffy, but I could see the relief in her face as she stepped forward and hugged me. I doubted that she’d ever hugged me harder than she did then.
She stepped back to look into my eyes. “Where’s the gun, Stephen? Please give it to me. I’m going to lock it in my safe.” I pulled it from my topcoat pocket and removed the magazine. I racked the slide to make sure the chamber was empty. One of the first things I’d learned as a kid was to never hand someone a loaded weapon. She took the pistol and practically ran down the hall.
Like many couples we had a home office. The nature of our work required that each of us have our own safe. Her patient records were confidential--my work was, too. Knowledge of an upcoming merger or dividend, or even if revenue predictions failed to meet expectations could greatly impact stock prices. Insider trading was a felony—a violation of federal law. I had her combination in a sealed envelope and she had mine, but only for emergencies.
Melissa returned quickly. I was still standing in the hall and leaning against the wall when she removed my coat and hung it in the closet. I was shaking terribly when she helped me to the bedroom, my arm around her neck. She undressed me and led me to the tub. It was almost full in minutes when she helped me in. I relaxed in the warmth—the first relaxation I’d had since I’d begun drinking her urine. Melissa joined me a few minutes later, sitting behind me so she could hold and kiss me. I felt her breasts pressing into my back.
“Oh, Stephen I’ve been so selfish and so stupid. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Of course…isn’t that what being married is all about?”
“Stephen…please…tell me you only did this to frighten me. I couldn’t bear being without you.”
“Lying is a sin, Melissa. I wasn’t lying. I weighed myself this morning. I weighed 161.2 pounds.”
Melissa gasped. I had always weighed 180 pounds—never more that 182 or less than 178-- since high school. I’d lost almost twenty pounds in five days. She was bawling again and choking when she hugged me and kissed my neck. “Stephen, oh Stephen, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea you were suffering so much. I thought you’d adjust in a few days and here I’ve almost killed you. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for endangering you like this.”
“It’ll be okay, Lissa. You didn’t realize. I would have told you, but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
My use of her pet name made her cry even harder. “I was afraid you’d never call me that again. Oh, Stephen I’ve been such a fool.” She pulled me even closer until I groaned—I was as weak as a kitten from my starvation and lack of water; my body was still shaking. We sat there until the water cooled then Melissa helped me up. I had to sit on the edge of the tub while she dried me then she led me to the bed. I was surprised when she put me in naked.
Twenty minutes later she returned with a mug of chicken soup. She placed some pillows behind me so I could sit up comfortably. “What…what,” I was stuttering, “if I can’t handle it?”
“I’m getting the waste basket from the office. If you get it on the sheets I’ll change them. I’ll do whatever is necessary for you to get better. I called Shelley; she’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” Shelley was Shelley Rubin, MD. She worked closely with Melissa. We often socialized with her and her husband Bruce, a psychiatrist who also worked with Melissa.
I sipped the broth tentatively. It was hot, but I found the warmth soothing. Slowly, I sipped tiny amounts, pausing often. I was just finishing when Shelley walked into the room.
She hugged and air-kissed Melissa and hugged me before sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you, Stephen?”
Melissa answered before I had a chance to say a word, “I am, Shel. He’s been throwing up ever since Saturday morning.”
“Do you know why? It could be a virus or food poisoning.”
“It’s neither, Shel…I made him drink my urine. He vomited everything up and he has every morning since.”
Shelley looked incredulous. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Melissa? Why would you do such an idiotic thing?”
“Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.” She went on to explain what had happened and what she had done.
“You said it best, Melissa—you ARE an idiot. Stephen will need bed rest for several days. He’ll need to drink a lot of water—room temperature, not cold. The soup is good, too. He can have a little solid food like soup noodles and chicken. You’ll have to be here with him, Mel. I’ll want to know immediately if he starts vomiting again.” Then she turned her attention to me. “Any dry heaves, Stephen?”
“Oh God, yes—every time. It went on and on, probably for as much as ten minutes.”
“Some people have a genetic allergy to some of the chemicals in urine. Everything is okay as long as it’s in the urinary tract and bladder, but anyplace in the digestive tract will spur a violent reaction as the body works to expel it. I think that’s what happened here. I’ve also seen reactions to having it on their skin. I’m glad you called me. I think you could have killed Stephen if you continued.”
Melissa came apart at the word “killed.” Ten minutes later she was still crying and gasping for air. Slowly, in bits and pieces, she managed to tell the story of my intended suicide. Shelley’s reaction was surprising.
“I can hardly blame you, Stephen, but I’m glad you’re still with us. Bruce and I both love you. You’re one of the best people we know. I know why you did it Melissa, but you need to be more aware. You’ll be responsible for his health and his safety among other things.” She left me some medications and wrote a prescription. I was not to get out of bed without assistance. That alone would require Melissa to stay with me.
Melissa helped me to lie back down, asking if I needed to use the bathroom. I laughed as I replied, “No, other than puking my guts, I haven’t had the need since Friday night.” She held my cheek against hers and began to sob. “C’mon, Lissa, don’t blame yourself. Neither of us could have predicted this. You were right; there are quite a few places where urine is a staple of people’s diet. I would have done it—even though I hated every drop. I would have done it for you. That’s how much I love you. We’ve both made plenty of mistakes. Let’s put it behind us and just move forward, okay?” I gently kissed her cheek and lay back, ready to sleep.
“Can we sleep naked tonight, Stephen? I want to feel your skin against mine.”
“Yes, darling—we can do it every night if you want. Sorry, but I need to sleep. I haven’t done much of that over the past few days either.” Melissa climbed into bed with me, spooning behind me. I would have preferred to have her in front of me so I could move into close contact with her gorgeous ass and run my hand under her shapely breast. I was relieved to fall asleep in seconds.
Melissa wasn’t in bed when I woke up the following morning. I struggled to read the alarm clock and was surprised to see that it was after 9:30. There was a note under the clock: Darling, I called in sick for both of us. I’m picking up the prescription and will be back soon. Please drink some of the water. Please don’t get out of bed by yourself. I love you, M.
I noticed for the first time the bottle of water. Buoyed by my success at keeping down the soup, I slowly sipped down almost half the bottle then lay back on my pillow. My mind wandered, but slowly I began to recall last night’s conversation with Shelley. What did she mean when she said she knew why Melissa had done it? What did she mean when she said Melissa had to be more aware, that she’d be responsible for my health and safety, among other things? I thought I’d need to ask Melissa when she returned. I had just closed my eyes to rest when I heard her enter the front door. She came into the bedroom a few minutes later holding two different capsules.
“Here, let me pour you some water then take the pills. I’ll get you some more soup for lunch.”
I had just swallowed the pills when I asked, “Can we talk for a few minutes, Lissa? There are some things I don’t understand.”
“What, Stephen,” she asked as she sat on the side of the bed. Her hand rested on my hip.
“I know I was kind of out of it last night, but Shelley said some things I didn’t understand. What did she mean when she said she knew why you did it? And, what was that stuff about you being responsible for my health and safety?”
I could see Melissa take a deep breath before she answered. “Do you know why I married you, Stephen?”
“I assumed you loved me…that you still love me.”
“Yes, of course, I love you very much, but there was more to it than that. You were always so polite and so considerate and so helpful. I knew why. You were raised by your mother, weren’t you? Your father was always away driving his truck so your mother was always the dominant parent in your life. I knew you were submissive to women then and I know it now. I did it to make a major change in our relationship. You’re going to be my slave. Making you drink my urine would increase your natural submissiveness. Now that you can’t do that I’ll have to use another strategy.”
“Why? Why do you want to do this? Suppose I refuse, then what?”
“It’s our destiny, Stephen—you are submissive, especially to women. You are now and I’d guess you’ve always been that way. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with being submissive. Many men and women too, are submissive. I waited until now because I wanted to be sure you were ready. You already know some submissive men. Bruce is one; Shelley is his mistress. She’s been a resource for me. She noticed how submissive you were the first time we met.
“I don’t think you would refuse me, Stephen. You said last night that you had never refused me. Isn’t that true? I’m sure you’re afraid, maybe even terrified, but you needn’t be. I’ll take care of you. You will serve me—do everything I ask of you, but I will take care of you, too. I’ll manage our finances. I do most of that already and I’m much better at it than you are. I’ll also manage our sex life. Your days of masturbating are over. Don’t worry about that, either. I’ll control sex, but I won’t forget about you.
“Initially, you’ll be my submissive. You’ll have rights—some, anyway, but in time you’ll become my slave and I’ll control everything about you. I’ll love you even more then for the sacrifices you’ll make for me.” She leaned back, a look of self-satisfaction on her face. It disappeared a second after I spoke in response.
“No…no…no—a thousand times, NO! You knew about how my mother treated me because I told you, but there’s a part of that I never told you or anyone else—how I hated her, how I still hate her for what she did to me. If you go that route I’ll end up hating you, probably more because I’ll feel then like I feel now…that you’ve betrayed me. I have to stay here now because I can’t get up and leave, but I will as soon as I’m able. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this it’s that I can’t trust you. You lied to me. You manipulated me, and you don’t really care what happens to me. Please leave me now. The sight of you sickens me.” Melissa was crying when she rose, but I thought that was appropriate. She’d had many options as our relationship progressed, but she chose one that would ultimately lead to my downfall.
She brought soup for my lunch; I made her sample it first. I only drank from sealed bottles of water. I refused to use any glasses she’d brought me. I slept sitting up knowing that I’d sleep lightly. I got out of bed on my own Sunday afternoon and dressed. I loaded five suits, shirts and ties into my car. Once I had added underwear, casual clothes, and my toiletries I told Melissa I was leaving.
“Where will you stay?” She was crying again as she apologized over and over. I wasn’t impressed. She still had a long ways to go before she even approached the level of my suffering.
“I’m sure I can stay with Bert for a few days. I’ll let you know if I leave there.” I turned to the car, staggering to the driveway. I didn’t say good-bye; I didn’t kiss her either. I just turned and left. I drove very slowly—it was all I could handle until I’d managed the three miles to Bert’s apartment. I spent more than an hour unloading my stuff and placing it into Bert’s guest room.
I received a call on my cell the following morning; I was still in bed. It was Shelley. “How could you do this to me? How could you help her turn me into her slave?”
“I thought it was what you wanted, Stephen. That’s what she told me. I just found out that you hate your mother for what she did to you. That changes everything. You have to be willing for this to work. Melissa is a wreck at work this morning. She’s been crying since Bruce and I intercepted her in the parking lot.”
“Good, she deserves to suffer. She’ll approach my level in about another year. Incidentally, I still feel like shit—and whose fault is it? Don’t think for a second that it’s mine.” I ended the call. Frankly, I had nothing further to say.
I was able to return to work the following week. When people inquired about my health I just told them I’d had a terrible stomach virus that caused me to vomit repeatedly and left me as weak as a kitten. Everyone was extremely sympathetic. I wondered what they would think if I told them what Melissa had done to me.
Melissa had tried to phone me, but I saw no reason to speak to her. I was suffering terribly, not only from her absence, but my inability to have an orgasm made me edgy and cross. I resolved to be extremely careful and cordial to my co-workers. I was lucky to have my own office. I usually closed my door when I was concentrating on a report. I had it closed almost all the time now.
I left Bert with thanks and a bottle of single malt scotch as a parting gift, moving into a furnished apartment in lower Manhattan. I still paid the mortgage on our house; it was deducted from my checking account every month. I could easily afford it. Working for Goldman Sachs was extremely lucrative. I cleared $160,000 after taxes last year based on a salary of $100,000 and a bonus of more than $170,000. Melissa had earned $60,000. Together we were affluent; apart she would have difficulty without my help. She’d hurt me terribly, but I didn’t hate her…yet. However, I couldn’t predict the future; I had no idea what tomorrow or next week might bring.
Initially, Melissa phoned me almost hourly. I never answered even a single time. I wanted her to know and understand how much she had hurt me. Then one Friday I received a box in my office mail; it was almost three months since I’d left. Inside was a manila envelope and when I opened it a small silver-colored key fell onto my desk. What the hell? I had no clue who had sent it. Even a phone call to the carrier told me nothing. Later that afternoon—it was almost six after almost everyone else had gone--I noticed a shadow in my doorway. Looking up I saw it was Melissa dressed in very high heels, fishnet stockings, and a long raincoat that covered her entire body—all the way past her knees.
She moved the doorstop with her toe and leaned back against the door to close it. I wondered why she had not spoken to me and then I understood why—her mouth was closed by a large gag that looked like a ball; it was fastened behind her head. She shrugged out of the raincoat. I knew who had sent the key and why when I saw her naked body. Other than the heels and stockings she wore only three things—two leather wrist cuffs that were locked to her arms and a leather collar around her neck. Her wrists were locked to the collar. I had never seen her so appealing or so helpless.
I laughed as she knelt at my feet. “I have to hand it to you, Melissa. You definitely got my attention this time. How’d you get into the building?” She crawled back to the raincoat, pointing with her chin. I rose from behind my desk. Walking to pick it up I continued, “I suppose I could just remove your gag, but it’s so much nicer having you silent. What’s this? I pulled a note from the pocket and read it. “Hello, I am Melissa, Stephen Moore’s wife. I have a big surprise for him. Please help by putting me in the elevator and pushing 38. Thank you.”
“How’d you get here? Shelley?” She nodded. “Okay…she still pissed at you?” Melissa’s eyes went as big as saucers as she nodded glumly. “See what happens when you lie?” She nodded again. “Okay, I’ve had my fun. I guess I’ll go home to my apartment. Bye!” Her eyes pleaded with me as she shook her head vigorously.
I leaned forward to remove her gag, kissing her forehead. I massaged her jaw first then went to get her a drink from the water cooler. “Thank you, Stephen.
Will you release my hands, please?”
“Oh? What will you do if I release them?”
“Fuck you until you can’t stand up. Make you cum over and over.”
“You going to do that right here?”
“If I have to. I only know that I miss you and I love you. The past three months have been hell for me. I need you back. Please, Stephen. I’m begging you.”
“Not here; my boss is still around somewhere. Get up.” I wrapped the raincoat around her body. She leaned her head against my shoulder while I tied the belt in place. “This is pretty funny. How’d you get this idea?”
“It’s incredible what you’ll do when you’re desperate. I am desperate, Stephen. I realize how stupid I’ve been.” I closed up my desk, locked my safe and put the papers I’d been working on into my briefcase. My hand on her arm I led her into the hallway to the elevator. At this hour it was an express. Our only stop was the lobby. The security guard waved at me, “See your wife found you, Mr. Moore. Don’t worry—I’ll sign you out. Have a great weekend. Wish my wife would do stuff like that.”
“Thanks, Sid—you, too. Maybe I should have Melissa give her a call.” Sid laughed like crazy, shaking his head as he imagined his portly wife in collar and cuffs. Seconds later we were on the sidewalk. “I normally take the subway, but tonight I think a cab will be better. Did Sid get a good look at you?” I stepped to the curb as Melissa explained how Sid had opened the raincoat to get a close look at her wares. No more than five minutes later we were seated in the rear seat of a yellow cab. “127 West Eighth.” It was only a short drive from Wall Street in the south end of Manhattan to Greenwich Village.
Melissa looked up at the brownstone. “This is not as nice as our house.”
“I agree. Let’s go in. I’m on the third floor and there’s no elevator. How are your feet in those shoes?”
“Okay, I’ll massage them for you once we’re inside.” It was a long slow trek up the stairs. Melissa had no use of her hands so I had to guide her and hold my briefcase, too. Eventually I opened the door to 3B and held it for Melissa.
“This is a dump.”
“I agree again, but it’s private and reasonably cheap unless you add in what I have to pay for a garage down the block. Most of the residents are students. NYU is only about a half mile away. Some of the women are really hot. Some of them think I’m kind of hot, too.” Melissa’s head was down and she looked about to cry as I removed her coat, throwing it over a chair with my coat and suit jacket. I sat her on the couch while I pulled a can of Bud from the refrigerator.
“I didn’t know you drank beer.”
“There are still a lot of things you don’t know about me. For example, you didn’t know that I got a promotion last week. I was praised for my assertiveness. I’ve been extremely productive over the past six months, earning or saving the firm more than a half billion. I’ve also done a lot of drinking over the past few months.” Melissa cringed at my choice of words as I held the can to her mouth so she could drink. I took a strong pull and lifted her feet onto my lap. I carefully removed her shoes and began to massage her feet. My hands ran up her legs to remove the stockings. I dropped them onto the table. Lifting her foot I brought it to my mouth.
I licked all around her toes as she looked on speechless. One by one I sucked each toe into my mouth tasting the pungent sweat, but loving it. “Isn’t this what slaves do for their mistresses?”
“Sometimes, but it’s also what lovers do for each other.”
“I’ve done a lot of research in my spare time, Melissa. A lot of the stuff I’ve read online is just nonsense, but there’s a big psychology section in the public library. NYU has been a big help, too especially when I told the librarian I was doing research on Dominant/submissive relationships for my work. I know—I lied—but I did learn a lot. I learned that Shelley was right—the submissive always has to be willing. They’re only forced in cheap online fiction. You went about this all wrong. I could understand if you weren’t a psychologist, but you are…so what’s your excuse?”
Melissa hemmed and hawed for almost a minute before responding, “I fucked up. I acted when I didn’t have all the information. You should have heard Shelley light into me. I endangered your life and just as bad, I endangered our relationship—the one thing that means more to me than anything. If I apologized every minute for the next year I still wouldn’t be able to tell you how sorry I am.”
I dropped her feet and stood to strip off my clothes. My weight was back to 180 pounds in spite of eating my own cooking. At thirty years of age and at six feet two inches I was the only one I knew who was at my ideal weight. Everyone else was overweight; some were obese. Once I was naked I pulled Melissa up and led her to the table where I pushed her back and lifted her legs up to my shoulders. I was pleased to see that she was already wet.
Everything that had happened this evening had excited me tremendously. I was hard—so incredibly hard my cock actually hurt—when I pressed into her slit. I was seated deep within her very shortly after. I swear I had never fucked so hard in my life. I leaned down to kiss Melissa. When I was done I whispered, “I learned about more than D/s relationships. I learned how to reverse conditioning.” My cock exploded into her, drowning her pussy and womb in baby cream. It seeped from her body, pooling onto the floor. Once I was done I did my husbandly duty by applying my mouth to her cunt.
“This is also what lovers do for each other. I’ll give you a chance to reciprocate once I’ve taken care of you.”
“Oh, Stephen…are we lovers again?”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” I couldn’t speak any longer; my mouth was full of cunt. I attacked her like never before and she was obviously as horny as I was. I sucked her labia into my mouth so I could nibble on them. The presence of an ocean of semen in her tunnel deterred me not at all. My tongue fucked her wildly. I was sure she would have pulled my head into her had her wrists not been locked to her neck. Instead, her legs locked around my neck when I teased her clit with my finger. She came so hard she scared the hell out of me. I reached up to hold her—to prevent her from falling—to protect my love. Yes, in spite of everything she’d done I still loved her more than anything.
Once she had become calm I got the key and unlocked her, removing the cuffs and collar. “Don’t forget—I can put them back on you any time I want.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulled me close and whispered, “I love you, Stephen. I’m glad you were able to deprogram yourself. How’d you do it?”
“Hypnosis-- I found a psychiatrist who sent me to a hypnotherapist after I explained to her….”
“Yeah, her—she was very upset with you. In fact, she was so upset that she offered to help me in other ways, too. Unfortunately for her, I’m only interested in one woman.” I continued once I had returned from the kitchen with a paper towel that I wedged between her legs. I carried her to the tiny bathroom. The bathroom in our house was more than 120 square feet. This one was less than twenty. The shower stall was tiny. That worked to my advantage—Melissa had to press her hot tits into my body as we washed each other. “Lovers do this, too.”
“I know. We’ll have to do it all the time won’t we?” She looked up at me so hopefully. I was never cruel; she’d suffered enough.
“Yes, we will…every day.” Melissa bawled as she held me tightly. I returned the hug. Melissa looked up at me as the water ran down our bodies. I looked down, hooked her chin with my finger and we kissed. It was the best—the sweetest –kiss of our lives. We kissed and kissed until we were forced from the shower by the suddenly frigid water. We dried each other and walked together to the bedroom. I doubted we’d get much sleep.
We fell together onto the ancient bed with the sagging springs and tarnished brass headboard. We must have kissed for more than an hour before Melissa had enough. She pushed me onto my back and climbed aboard, straddling my hips before sinking down my shaft. She rode me slowly, making it last until--once again--she could take it no longer. Her motions changed from maybe fifteen miles per hour to more than sixty. I was paying close attention and I was pretty sure that she came—twice. We fell asleep, our bodies intertwined until the sun shone through the filthy windows. We made love again—slower and less frantic than last night. Again, I was sure she had cum at least once. It was time for a chat.
Melissa had lain on my chest for almost a half hour when I spoke, “Okay, Melissa—I will come home, but I have several conditions.” She looked up with a start, but my hand over her mouth told her to shut up until I was done. “Most of these are concerned with gender equity as you will soon see. First, we will continue our former schedule of sex—Sunday afternoon or night, Wednesday night, and Friday night. I agree to eat your pussy on demand—every day of the week and as many times as you like. In return you will give me a blowjob Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. You will either shave your pubic hair or at least trim it to less than one-half inch. Of course, I will do the same. Finally, I heard you on the phone before I left cancelling an appointment. I’ll keep the appointment—have my nipples pierced with ¾ inch stainless hoops, soldered so they will not come off. In consideration of gender equity you will do the same except your hoops will be gold. That’s it…the end of my list.”
Melissa sat up, my shrinking cock still embedded within her. “I have two objections. I think I have the right to give you a blowjob on Tuesday’s, too unless we decide we want to make love on other days in addition. Also--no to the last one; I’m not afraid of being pierced. I’ve just come to understand that I want you the way you are. I no longer see any need to change you. That’s gender equity, too.”
I pretended to think about her comments, but it was just for effect. “Deal! What say we get my stuff and blow this joint?” She jumped up and we piled most of my stuff into some plastic trash bags. I carried my suits down the stairs and down the block to the garage. All told it took less time than it had to move into Bert’s apartment months ago. I saw the super and turned in my keys—apartment and garage. He wasn’t sorry. He’d keep all the beer in my fridge and, since it was only the tenth of the month he could pocket almost two-thirds of my rent if he could rent it quickly. Student housing in the city was always in high demand.
I drove east on the old and narrow city streets, turning south on the East River Drive and across the Manhattan Bridge to the BQE—the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway north. We exited at the Long Island Expressway, crossing into Queens and Nassau County, Long Island. We exited at Rt. 106 north toward our home in Oyster Bay. It was only a drive of less than an hour, but it might as well have been across the globe while we were apart.
Melissa had held my hand all the way, releasing me only when I had pulled into our driveway. I stopped her before she could leave the car. “Two more things—I didn’t mention them earlier because I was sure you’d agree. No more secrets from each other. We tell each other whenever there’s a problem and we’re completely truthful.” She nodded her agreement immediately. “Also, I want the truth on your orgasms—were you faking or did you lie in order to get me under your control?”
“I’m so ashamed. I wanted you under my control so I lied. Didn’t you learn anything last night? You took such wonderful care of me just like almost every other time.” Her head was down in shame as her eyes filled with tears.
I brought her to me, holding her shaking body. “It’s in the past, Lissa—the past. We can’t change that, but we can learn from our mistakes. Let’s get out and go inside. I’ve missed our house almost as much as I’ve missed you.” That set her off again. I helped her out of the car and into the house, sitting her on the couch. “Call Shelley and ask her if they’d like to go out to eat tonight. I’ll bring the stuff in and maybe you can rustle up some sandwiches or something. I’m starving.”
I had carried everything into the bedroom, dropping the last two bags onto the bed when I felt Melissa wrap her arms around my body. I couldn’t see her but I could feel her body shaking as she sobbed horribly. I turned around, held her and fell back onto the bed, Melissa falling onto my body. I pressed her face into mine as her crying continued unabated.
I tried to help by whispering, “I love you, Lissa,” but all that did was make her cry even harder. I just held her until it had run its course. I rolled over, turning her onto her back while I went into the bathroom for a wash cloth. I carefully washed her face, removing her tears and soothing her puffy eyes with the warm water. “Why don’t you phone Shelley while I get the trimmer ready? That was one of the conditions, remember?” Melissa nodded, rose from the bed, and reached for the cordless phone we always kept on her night table. I could hear her speaking while I rooted through my closet in search of the electric trimmer I’d purchased when I had a knee injury that required taping every day. I’d had to shave the entire area and I found the electric device both quicker and safer at the time.
“Hi, Shelley…we’re home. Yes, Stephen is here with me, thank God! He wants to invite you and Bruce to dinner tonight—Peter Luger’s. I know—cholesterol city, but it will be a celebration on two counts—he’s back and he got a big promotion. No, he hasn’t told me about it yet. I think he’s waiting until tonight. Okay, I’ll make the reservation for seven. See you then.” Melissa rung off and joined me in the bathroom.
We undressed each other and I led her into the shower. It was a big area—roughly eighteen square feet. Melissa stood with her legs apart as I gently and carefully ran the clipper up her labia and across her abdomen, utilizing the half-inch comb to trim all her hairs to a uniform length. I handed the machine to her once I was done. We changed places and she trimmed me down, even using the clipper around my asshole. “Why’d you do that,” I asked.
“Just seemed to be a good idea; mine’s bare so why not yours?” Okay, that sounded fair. We walked out so we could check out our new look. Melissa disapproved. “I don’t like this, Stephen. It looks like beard stubble. I think we should go all the way.” She applied a hot towel to my genital area then shaved me until my entire pubic area was as naked as the day I was born. She handed the implements to me and I reciprocated for her, taking extreme care around her labia and clit.
“That’s better; I like the way it looks and feels. Let me put some lotion on you to protect against razor burn. Ah, I can see how much you like this. You’re as hard as a rock. You can do me next.”
“What’s not to like? Your hands on my body, and especially on my cock, have always excited me. I have to tell you—I love the way your labia look, kind of like a Playboy model.” I had to admit—I enjoyed the sensation of her hands running over my bare flesh almost as much as I enjoyed doing the same to her. We returned to the bedroom where we dressed and I made lunch—hot dogs and buns cooked for the first time in months on our Weber grill.
Melissa sat on my lap and fed me as we kissed and held each other between bites. We retired to the bedroom after lunch for a brief nap. We had lain in bed for maybe a half hour when Melissa asked if I was asleep. “No, I’m just resting with my eyes closed. Why?”
“I think I’d like one of those orgasms you told me I could have on demand.” She rolled onto her side and I pulled her up so her cunt was on my chest. I shimmied down to meet her, her naked pussy glistening in the dim light. I began by licking her entire organ, beginning at her asshole which I tickled with the tip of my tongue and running up all the way to her clit. I repeated over and over until she moaned in her pleasure. Then I attacked her tunnel, fucking her actively with my tongue.
Melissa dug her fingers into my hair, gripping my head forcefully as she humped my face with increasing force. I waited until her motions were frantic before attacking her clit. I could never recall it being so hot or so hard or so big. It was swollen almost to double its original size in her hunger. Opening my mouth just a bit—certainly no more than an eighth of an inch—I sucked that bud between my teeth. Melissa screamed as the first tremor of her orgasm struck.
I continued to worry her sensitive button with my teeth and tongue as her orgasm claimed reign over her body. She thrashed over my body for more than thirty seconds before she lost all control and collapsed onto me. I held her tightly, both from my love for her and to protect her from falling. I was surprised to see that she was barely conscious. I held her tightly, kissing her cheek and nibbling her earlobe while she recovered. She raised her head some fifteen minutes later.
“Wow! Is that what I have to look forward to every day? That was incredible, Stephen—probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Now I do need that nap. Would you mind terribly if I waited until after dinner to take care of you?”
“Not at all; it will give me something to look forward to. Maybe you’ll be ready for another then, too.”
Her only reaction was, “Hmmm.” Then she was fast asleep, her head resting gently on my shoulder with my arm around her body. Oh, how much I had missed Melissa. I didn’t know how I’d be able to find the words or way to tell her.
I woke her at 5:30 and we showered together, laughing and joking as we ran the soap over each other’s bald sex. “How often do you think we’ll have to shave, Stephen?”
“How often do you shave your legs and armpits?”
“Oh, usually two or three times a week. I get it—that would be a good time to do our sex. Will you help with my legs, Stephen?”
“Gladly, since I’m hoping we’ll be showering together often.”
“Not often, Stephen; I want to shower with you every single day. I’ll never tire of feeling your naked skin.” She turned around so I could wash her back and ass. I tickled her anus with my finger, surprising her when I slowly pushed it into her bowel. It had the desired effect. She turned, gripped my head and kissed me madly as I continued to fuck her sphincter. She groaned in disappointment when I removed my finger five minutes later.
One of the highlights of our home was the geothermal heating and cooling system which also provided us with a virtually endless supply of hot water. More than two dozen pipes had been drilled deep into our back yard where the captive water circulated, accumulating heat in winter and surrendering it in summer. It cost us a small fortune to install, but it required almost no electricity to operate, and even better, no expensive fuel oil. Electricity was extremely expensive on Long Island, possibly the highest in the nation and fuel oil was just as bad, maybe worse. We luxuriated in the shower for almost a half hour, leaving only because of our dinner date with Shelley and Bruce. I was shocked and surprised when Melissa pushed her finger into my asshole. I knew now why she had shaved the area. I wondered if she had any other ideas for it.
I dried Melissa thoroughly and shooed her back to the bedroom to dress. She was just finishing when I joined her. She combed and brushed her hair and applied her makeup while I dressed. Peter Luger’s is an expensive steak house, but there was no reason for fancy dress. We left our house at 6:30 for the twenty minute ride to Great Neck. We waited only a few minutes for Bruce and Shelley. They greeted us on the sidewalk like long lost relatives. Shelley ignored Melissa, hugging me tightly and kissing my cheek for more than a minute. “I’m so glad you’re back, Stephen. Bruce and I have been so worried about you.” She moved over to air kiss Melissa while Bruce shook my hand and clapped me on my back.
We were seated and had ordered drinks. I noticed for the first time how Bruce deferred to Shelley when ordering. It was subtle, but the signs were definitely there. Once we were done Shelly asked, “What’s this I hear about a promotion, Stephen?”
I reached into my wallet and retrieved my new business card, handing it to her. Under the Goldman Sachs logo was my name with the title “Executive Vice President—Research.” I explained how my research over the past six months had saved or earned the firm more than five hundred million dollars. Back before leaving Melissa I had just finished a twenty page memo about a pharmaceutical company urging that we sell everything we had and quickly. Our investment was more than one hundred eighty million. I had learned from an inside source that their newest miracle drug didn’t work. Two weeks after selling the stock dropped from $92.47 per share to $5.12 almost overnight.
My next report urged purchasing stock in a small tech firm. We did at $8.34 a share. A month later the price skyrocketed as news of its super-tablet became public. GS made a fortune—more than 250 million—as a result. My final research also involved selling stock in a company that was secretly on the verge of bankruptcy. They went under exactly seven weeks after we had liquidated our holdings. The CEO couldn’t say enough positive things about me. I was promoted and now more than thirty analysts reported to me. It was a huge responsibility, but I still found the time to do my own research while directing the efforts of my team. My salary was doubled and my annual bonus would be significantly larger, too.
“Well, I think that deserves a toast. Here’s to Stephen, a great example of cream rising to the top and proof that good guys sometimes do finish first.” Bruce raised his glass; we touched glasses and drank.
“Melissa told me you had some conditions for returning.”
“Yes, but they’re kind of personal so, if you don’t mind, I won’t go into detail.”
“I will tell you this, Shel—a certain part of our bodies is as bare as the day we were born.”
Bruce and Shelley laughed. “I guess neither of you will be getting hairs in your mouths, eh?”
“You got that right, Shel,” Melissa replied. She was about to continue when she noticed my scowl. “Okay, Stephen I can take the hint. No more discussion about our sex life.” We talked instead about how miserable Melissa had been without me and about how and where I had lived. Then the conversation shifted to the Yankees. We were all big fans, often attending games together on weekends. As an executive with Goldman Sachs I’d have occasional access to the luxury box the firm maintained. I’d been offered four seats for next Saturday’s game. We made plans to attend and talked through the meal which was delicious and as cholesterol-laden as usual.
Shelley invited us to their place, but Melissa told her, “Sorry, Shel, but Stephen and I have some important personal business to attend to.” Shelly and Bruce laughed and a minute later the valet returned our Lexus. We were back home by ten. I bent over and lifted Melissa over my shoulder. She laughed all the way to the bedroom where I dropped her onto the bed.
I began to remove her clothing, kissing her body as I did—her shoulders when I removed her blouse, her breasts when I removed her bra, her legs for her slacks, and, of course, her pussy when I dropped her lace panties to the floor.
I stood stock still as she returned the favor for me. In seconds I was as naked as she was. Melissa chuckled as she ran her fingers over my nude cock and balls. She stopped for a moment and I could see her thinking. “Would you mind, Stephen, if we fucked tonight instead of having just a blowjob?”
“Hmmm, another opportunity to make love to you? I’ll take that anytime. I’ll even give you your choice of positions.” Melissa pushed me down onto my back and climbed over me. She brought my hands to her breasts. I massaged her tender tissues and rubbed her hard wrinkled nipples between my fingers, adding a small amount of pressure and pain to enhance her experience. Melissa’s pussy oozed juice that ran down onto my cock and abdomen. We kissed for many minutes, our tongues dueling in our need for each other.
Melissa opened her legs and I took this as my cue. I lifted my hips and my meaty erect cock slid easily into her tight hot tunnel. Sitting up enabled her to rock, grinding her swollen clit into my hard abdomen. We moved together, increasing our pace and intensity with every thrust. I could feel my cock bottom out in her cunt, ramming into her cervix every time. Rather than complain she encouraged me through her frantic motions.
Melissa upped the ante by flexing her Kegel muscles as she arched her back. I knew she was close which was great because I was about to explode. We came together in an eruption with the intensity of Vesuvius. I drove into Lissa with every fiber of my body while she shook as convulsion after convulsion ran through her body. Finally, after almost a minute we came to rest, Melissa sagging onto my chest. I wrapped my arms around her as I lightly kissed her cheek.
She was still lying atop me when she spoke, “Stephen, I think I’d enjoy another orgasm. Do you mind?” I understood then—it was a test of my resolve. Would I really give her orgasms on demand?
“Okay, why don’t you come up here and kneel right over my mouth so I can lick and suck you?” She was in position fifteen seconds later, her hands on the headboard to steady her. I began as I had earlier by licking her labia except this time I was also cleaning her pussy of her secretions—and mine—as I turned her on again. Over and over the broad of my tongue swept from her anus to her clit and beyond. I moved into her love canal once she began to hump my face.
I could taste my semen intermingled with her viscous fluids. They drained into my mouth as I cleaned her pussy while stimulating her G-spot and bringing her to yet another orgasm—her fourth if my count was accurate. No wonder she was so glad to see me back home with her. I maintained the pressure on her sensitive tissue until she was almost there. Now the merest touch of her clit sent her over the top and down into the abyss. You’d think that one’s fourth orgasm of the day would be weak, but you’d be wrong. Melissa reacted as though her body had exploded. Her motions were frantic and uncontrolled—she moved in three directions at once until I pulled her to me for her own safety. I laid her softly on the bed and pulled the blanket over us. Once again we slept in each other’s arms. I set the alarm for 7:30 when I’d give her yet another surprise.
I woke up before the alarm to a rubbing sensation on my groin. I looked over to Melissa; she had a wicked smile on her lips and I knew immediately that she was getting me hard by delicately running her hand over my cock and balls. I checked the clock—7:22. “Sorry, Lissa, but we won’t have time for sex if we’re going to make it to church at nine.” She was stock still looking at me with a curious expression until it dawned on her. Then she smiled and jumped onto my body.
“Really, Stephen? Really? You’re going to come to church with me?”
“Yes, so I suggest we grab a quick shower. We both reek of sex and parts of me are really sticky. What did you do to me, woman?”
She laughed for a few seconds then became very serious. “I didn’t laugh even once the entire time you were gone, Stephen.”
“Well, you’re going to laugh a lot now. Let’s get that shower.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me into the bathroom. I took a piss while she warmed the water. We went in together and were washing when I noticed that she was pissing. The yellow liquid was running down her thigh.
“Sorry, but you beat me to the toilet.” I just shook my head and smiled as I washed her glorious body. Melissa may have been 28, but she looked more like 22. She had long slender legs that met at her torso with a delightful three-inch space occupied by her newly bare pussy. I noticed how the lack of hair made her labia appear more prominent. It was a most appetizing sight--one I’d have an up close look at multiple times each and every day. Melissa’s hips were well in proportion to her body. She had measured 34C-25-33 when we had married and I doubted that she’d added even a single inch to any of those measurements in the six years we’d been together. She was still 117 pounds of dynamite.
I dressed in a grey suit, white shirt, and cranberry tie. Melissa was so pleased as she took my hand while we walked out to the car. Ten minutes later we pulled up to the church. We were seated in a pew five minutes before the service began. Melissa whispered, “Will you come with me to Communion?”
“You know I don’t believe in it.”
“I know, but it would mean a lot to me if you did.” I’d told her more than once that I’d never refused her so, reluctantly, I did agree. I tried to sing the hymns, but not too successfully. I did shake hands with the nearby people when instructed to, but I only hugged Melissa. I walked hand in hand with her when she received Communion. The priest somehow understood and passed me by, but not before blessing the two of us. Melissa beamed on the way back to the pew. That look alone made the entire ordeal worthwhile. I took us out for brunch after church to an excellent buffet where we ate enough to hold us until dinner. I wasn’t surprised when Melissa asked for another orgasm once we were returned home.
This time I laid her onto the bed, pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties before sealing her entire cunt with my mouth and sucking for all I was worth. I wanted to draw blood into her tissues and it worked perfectly. In seconds her labia were swollen and she was hungry for release. I continued to suck for several minutes before ramming my tongue into her. Melissa gasped when I penetrated her, her legs gripping my head tightly. I nudged her clit with my nose while I continued to tongue-fuck her. I was rewarded with a flood of her aromatic ejaculate as she bucked into my head and face.
My face was covered, but that didn’t stop me from cleaning her cunt once she had quieted down and released my head. I began by gently licking her thighs before moving to her core. Her cunt was still seeping her delicious juice fifteen minutes after her orgasm had ended. I licked and sucked it from her using my tongue as a spoon, scooping it from her—reaching almost down to her cervix. Her cunt sparkled once I was done. She loved it and, frankly, so did I.
We spent the afternoon reading the Sunday Newsday and the Times while naked in bed. Sunday was a day for fucking. We played with each other—touching, licking, and kissing various body parts until Melissa swept the bed clean of the papers with a single swipe of her arm. She pushed her head onto the pillow and raised hr ass into the air. I was behind her in a second, wiping my cock head into her hot wet slit. A single thrust was all that was needed. I slid into her easily. One hand on her hip and the other on her breasts I proceeded to ram my hard cock into her with a ferocity I didn’t know I even had. “Don’t worry about me, Stephen. This is for you. You can take care of me later.”
I moved both hands to her hips and used the leverage to drive my cock into her faster and faster until I blew, long thick ribbons of semen erupting from my cock until I collapsed onto her back. She fell forward, but held me in place by reaching behind her. Slowly she spun around, her leg passing over my head until she was on her back facing me with her legs wrapped around my back. My spent cock had never left her cunt. “Think I can get it hard again?”
“Sure, but not now—I’m really spent. What do you want to do for dinner?”
“Would you make some grilled cheese sandwiches? I always love the way you make them.” I agreed and we ate them naked in bed, my cock dripping onto the sheets and Melissa’s pussy oozing semen. I wanted to change the bed before we retired for the night.
After dinner we dropped the paper plates into the trash and walked hand in hand to the shower. I began by shaving her legs and underarms then I did her pubic area again. Melissa shaved my cock, balls, and pubic region then asked me to bend over so she could shave around my asshole. I wondered why she felt that was necessary; I thought I’d find out in the coming weeks. Once done with the shaving ritual we showered, spending plenty of time washing each other until our skin was spotless. I washed Melissa’s hair, used conditioner, and rinsed it thoroughly.
I dried her body and then her hair before drying myself. I sat Melissa on the stool and used the blow dryer with a comb and brush to finish her hair. We retired to the bed naked where we read until it was time to sleep. Just before bed Melissa asked me to eat her again. I did so willingly, bringing her to a sensational orgasm in which she squirted and screamed. It seemed the perfect way to end the weekend.
The next week flew by incredibly quickly. Work could not have been better. Once again I had picked a big winner—a small manufacturing company that had patented a new procedure for making precision molds. We bought at $7.23 and a month later the stock held steady at $35.96 for a profit of more than $28 million. I was looking forward to the annual bonus in just another two months.
I kept my promises to Melissa and she kept hers to me. We had sex every single night in accordance with the schedule I had required when I returned home. Melissa had twenty seven orgasms that week; I’d had seven which was just about all I could handle. Melissa and I had never been closer.
It was during the following month that my submissive tendencies became more and more obvious. I did everything Melissa had requested and then some, deferring to her more and more. It was a Sunday evening when things came to a head. We were fucking missionary when I tried to move Melissa’s hands to my nipples. “No, Stephen! You know where that can lead.”
“Yes, I do. I’m sure you’ve noticed how things have gone this past month. You’re taking control and I’m happy to let you do it. You said it best—it’s our destiny. The first Monday after returning to work I had a visit from Tim Holden. Do you recall meeting him at last year’s holiday party? He’s the head of Human Resources. I had been holding vacation days and he pretty much told me to use them or lose them. I did—for intensive psychotherapy. I phoned the AMA when he left and asked for a psychiatrist in Manhattan who specialized in sexual problems. They suggested Ashley Stewart.”
“I know her! She’s a sexual surrogate. Did you…?”
“Yes, but only as part of my treatment. She was the one who suggested hypnosis to deprogram me. Naturally, it had to be tested to see if it was effective. She’s very highly skilled, but it was only twice to make sure the hypnosis had worked. She also helped me to understand the nature of and reasons for my submissiveness. I never told you this, but…. This is so hard to say…so hard.” I waited several minutes before building up the nerve to continue. “My problems arose from my mother…using me…sexually.”
“Oh no, Stephen; that’s terrible.”
Now that I’d opened the floodgates the words flowed like a flood. There was no stopping me. “She forced me to service her sexually from the age of four when I clearly didn’t know better until I became big enough and knowledgeable enough to make her stop. As bad as she was, my father was just as bad—maybe even worse. He would sit and watch her abuse me…make me eat her pussy or her ass. I recall him laughing at my predicament. Sometimes she made me jerk off and eat it off the floor or her shoe or lick it from her hand. Then she’d make me eat her again. She even pissed on me in the tub. I learned that the source of my difficulties is from being forced just as she did until I became fourteen. I worked out a lot and by then I was bigger and stronger than both my parents. They weren’t able to force me any longer.
“I’ve come to understand that I hate to be forced to do anything. But things that I can’t handle when forced I can often do easily when I’m willing. A good example is drinking urine. I was able to drink Dr. Stewart’s easily because she politely asked me if I would do it. Once I had agreed it was easy. I’m telling you this because I do believe as you do that this is the way we are going. You will be my mistress and I will be your slave.”
Melissa grabbed my jaw and looked me straight in the eyes. “No, no, no…a thousand times no! You’re not the only one who underwent therapy, Stephen. Bruce and Shelley took me on as a patient. I learned that I didn’t respect you the way you were. I wanted to change you—to mold you to my will--but I don’t want that any longer. That’s why I no longer want you pierced. I understand that you will be submissive to me, but you are NOT going to be my slave. I know you have some limits that I will never be able to exceed. I will never be able to be involved with another man, not that I’d ever want that. You’d probably kill both of us. You’re not into humiliation either. The nature of our relationship would always have to be private. Exposing you to public humiliation would mean the end of us and that means more to me than anything. I also know how you feel about homosexuality. A slave would be expected to suck another man’s cock, but you are NEVER going to do that, are you?”
I shook my head. Melissa was right. There was no way I’d ever accept any of those things. “Let’s just go as we are and see how things develop. Yes, I’m going to run things—that’s already obvious--but I value you as a partner. Plus, I definitely want you to initiate sex with me. I love those times when you lead and I’m not about to give that up. Now let’s finish. I will pinch your nipples if you want, but not on a regular basis. I don’t want you conditioned again.”
Melissa pulled me down for a long lingering kiss. Her fingers found my nipples as we kissed and she pinched them between her nails. The pain was exquisite; I came almost immediately, pouring what seemed to be a gallon of slick white semen into her cunt. I knew she hadn’t cum so I also knew where I’d be next—under her cunt cleaning her and bringing her off to a minimum of one orgasm, but probably more.
“Stephen, would you mind taking care of me now? I think I’d like three…a minimum of three. Would that be okay?” I rolled over onto my back and pulled her on top. As in the past she held the headboard for support as I attacked her cunt. I cleaned her of all my offensive semen and over the next hour brought her to five intense orgasms. My tongue was exhausted when she was done. Melissa fell asleep immediately and I followed soon thereafter.
Melissa was a very bright woman. I’d given her the secret and she seemed determined to test it. She lay on the side of the bed, her legs open. I knew immediately where she wanted me—my mouth on her cunt. I was just inches from sucking her when she asked in her sweetest voice, “Stephen, honey, I really have to go, but I’m so comfortable here. Would you mind terribly taking it for me?” Her eyes met mine and I was putty in her hands. I nodded and sealed off her cunt with my mouth. The hot acrid fluid trickled into my mouth. It tasted terrible, but I felt good about pleasing her. I cleaned her once she was done and used my tongue to bring her to a sweet orgasm punctuated by her shaking across the bed until I stopped her with my strong hands.
The next time we shaved each other she asked me, again in her sweetest, politest tone if I would do her nails. After all, I was already on the floor at the level of her feet. I readily agreed. I could feel my submissiveness beginning to control my life. I didn’t mind at all.
About two weeks later we had just stepped out of the shower when she commented, “You know, Stephen I noticed a few weeks ago how close your balls are to your body. I’d love to see them hang lower. I bought this ball stretcher for you. See…it fits around your sac and tightens with this Allen wrench. It’s not very heavy so it won’t hurt you. It would make me so happy to see your balls hanging looser. Would you do that for me…please?” I took the object from her and placed it around my sac. I tightened it and handed her the wrench. She looked so pleased; I felt so good having made her happy.
The following week she was in that same position on the side of the bed and again my mouth was inches from her cunt when she spoke. Again it was her sweetest voice, “Stephen, darling, while you’re down there would you mind terribly licking my butt hole? I’ve always wanted to try that.” Her eyes bore through me; my tongue found that forbidden sphincter. I found the wrinkled pucker interesting, unlike anything I’d ever licked before. I wasn’t surprised when she encouraged me to push my tongue in “just a little bit.” Her sphincter resisted, but, with effort, I was able to push it in perhaps a half inch. I felt powerless to resist her.
I wasn’t surprised when she politely urged me to go further. Soon my lips were pressed against her asshole and my tongue was covered with her shit. That’s when she told me to stop. I stayed in place while she retrieved a wash cloth which she used to scour my tongue. To be safe she finally rubbed it with one of those hand sanitizing cloths. She sat me on the bed and began her lecture. “I was wondering, Stephen, when you told me about being forced versus being nicely asked and I can see that, once again, you were completely honest with me. I doubt that’s anything you would refuse me other than those three taboos we discussed. I’ll bet you’d even let me fuck your ass with a strap-on if I asked you the right way.”
“No bet. I have trouble refusing you anything. I think you’ve proved that over the past weeks. Tonight was just another excellent example.”
“Yes, I have. I have tested you and I have proved that I could probably convince you to do just about anything for me. That’s a terrible responsibility you’ve given me. I told you during that discussion that I would never make you my slave. I know you do those things because you think they make me happy. Am I right?”
“Yes, I love pleasing you.”
“Good! What if I told you that I found pissing in your mouth disgusting? That did not and will not ever make me happy.”
“Then I wouldn’t do it any more.”
“And, if I still asked you for it?”
“Then I’d do it. I’d do anything for you no matter how disgusting.”
“ Hmmm, I also found eating my asshole disgusting. I don’t want that any more, either. In fact, I don’t want anything truly submissive any more. Do you understand me, Stephen? Oh…take that silly thing off your balls.” I was confused.
“Stephen, I’m never going to use the term ’submissive’ to describe you again. I believe that you are unusually attentive to my needs. That’s how I will describe you to anyone who asks. Do you understand me, Stephen? You are my attentive husband, a man who loves his wife and tries to cater to her needs—nothing more—not my ‘submissive,’ and certainly not my ‘slave.’ I enjoy being pampered—who wouldn’t. I enjoy having you anticipate my needs. Again, I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t love being treated the way you treat me. BUT, I refuse to have you kissing my feet, except maybe as foreplay, or calling me ‘Mistress’ or any of that other bullshit. You have voluntarily moved down the ladder of submission toward slavery because you thought it was something I wanted, but now I’m going to push you back up.
“I will be in control of our relationship because it’s what you need, but nobody other than you and me will ever know that we aren’t total equals. Okay, maybe Shelley and Bruce, but they’re not going to tell anyone and you will have much higher status than Bruce has. I will always ask you politely to do this or that for me; I will never order you to do anything and I’ll want to know if you are reluctant to do anything I’ve requested. Only a true slave does everything that is requested of him.
“I don’t want a slave any more, Stephen. I want a man...a lover…a husband…someone who will stand up with me and for me…someone who will take me and fuck my brains out. Yes, I will use you for as many orgasms as I can handle, but you volunteered to service me as one of your conditions for returning, didn’t you? I’d have to be a fool not to take advantage, wouldn’t I? A mistress would deny orgasms to her slave, but I will NEVER deny you. I crave sex with you. I want it every single day and I will give you as much as you can handle,” and smiling wickedly she continued, “and maybe even more.
“Now, I have to tell you that you’re not getting any more blowjobs in the foreseeable future. It’s not that I dislike sucking your cock. It’s just that I can’t get pregnant by swallowing your semen. I’ve made the decision that I want to have a child so instead of sucking your cock you’re going to have to fuck me. I will let you eat my pussy and give me tons of orgasms while you clean me of your surplus sperm. I admit that I have been testing you and I know now that your offer was and is sincere. I should have known better than to doubt you.
“I’m so glad you’re back with me, Stephen. I love you; I’ve always loved you; I will always love you.”
She leaned over and we kissed. It went on and on until she broke away, pushed me on my back and climbed over my body. “I just want you to know, Lissa that as happy as you are about our reunion, you are not one hundredth as happy as I am. I missed you horribly and I would have done absolutely anything to come back to you—even eat your pussy on demand.”
We looked at each other for several seconds before we broke out laughing. We laughed for minutes as we held each other and rolled across the bed. Finally, she stopped and placed her fingers over my mouth. “Let’s get to it, shall we? I won’t get pregnant by laughing, will I?” I rolled her over, climbed between her legs and proceeded to fuck my wonderful wife until she couldn’t stand. Then I’d gladly eat her to a million orgasms if necessary.
Lissa was so at ease after her fifth orgasm—one on my cock and four on my tongue. She pulled me up and kissed me, tasting her thick secretions on my tongue. She spoke once she had broken the kiss.
“How many was that, Stephen? I think I lost count. It was so wonderful.”
“I’m pretty sure it was five. Would you like another?”
Melissa shook her head. “Five for me and one for you--now that’s what I call gender equity.” I laughed and nodded my head. I had to agree.