A Perfect Night in the Perfect HomebyJayTM1986©
It had taken days, weeks, months, years. He knew since the first day he met her that she was to be His. She had been seeking Him, not a man like him, but Him, her entire life. She was strong, independent, assertive. She resisted. It took time. He put in his love, his time, his understanding, his leadership. She allowed herself to be courted, she consented. She allowed his will to become hers.
As he approached the front door of his white picket fence home, he liked to take time and appreciate the fruits of his labor one sense at a time. First, upon entering the home, the delicious aroma of a home cooked meal filed his nostrils, overwhelming him and making his stomach ache for the satisfaction that only her cooking could provide. Then, his ears flooded with the sounds of music from the period, she was playing jazz tonight. Lovely. He planned to dance with her after dinner, if she'd been good.
As he smiled, his sight became entranced with the most beautiful lady he'd ever layed eyes on. His Goddess, coming to greet him with that beaming smile, her hair perfect, polka dot dress, kitten heels, and that pearl necklace. That necklace he had given her so long ago when she agreed to be his. He loved to see her wear it wherever they went, as they were the only two people on earth who knew its deeper meaning. She took it when she agreed to obey him, consented to live this lifestyle under his command, and was the symbol of her submission to him. It was her collar.
Finally, after such a long day apart, he tasted her. He tasted her lips and kissed her with such passion that he felt her body quiver with pleasure as he held her close, squeezing her into him from her hips, feeling her body, revealing in her touch.
"Welcome home, Sir." She said, with a teasing, yearning smile.
She took his coat and hung it up, and without a word, fell to her knees and began removing his shoes. She felt his hand on the top of her head, petting her. She looked up with that beautiful, obedient, glamorous smile. She's spent hours practicing how to look oh-so -perfect. Just for him. Just for moments like this.
"How long until dinner is ready, darling?" He asked.
"Oh, about 15 minutes, give or take." She answered.
This is exactly how he liked it, and he was pleased she was on time today. It gave him time to have her right here, right now, if he wanted. Some work days were harder than others, and if he needed release as soon as he came home, that was his decision to make. Other days, like today, he'd prefer to wait, raise the anticipation, make her beg first.
"Good girl. I'll be in my chair until then." He said as he extended his hand. She placed her soft, freshly manicured hand into his, and she felt his strength pull her up into his arms. He held her close to him, squeezing her close, giving her one more kiss, and then letting her go. She seemed a little disappointed, wanting more, but it was his job as Head of their Household to have her ALWAYS wanting more. He smiled as she walked obediently back to the kitchen, and took his seat in the living room.
Shortly after, she walked over with a cocktail, an old-fashioned, and set it on the end table. He felt her whimper when he slapped her on the ass as she walked by. She had not been a good girl yesterday. She had skipped out on her responsibilities to him, and she was punished, and punished severely. She hated the hairbrush he kept in the bedroom drawer. The wooden one, sturdy, unrelenting. The night prior, she nearly cried when commanded her to go to the bedroom and bring it to him. She'd be sore for a week, and she was.
After enjoying some of his cocktail, he decided it was time to see if she'd learned her lesson. He walked into the kitchen to catch a glimpse of something straight out of his fantasies. He found her folded over, ass out, oven door open, peaking her head in, checking on the chicken she was roasting for his dinner. As she rose, he wrapped his hands around his waist and pulled her in tight. He kissed her on the neck, and heard her moan. He could practically smell her sex, even over the aroma of his dinner.
"Have you been a good girl today, darling?" He said, pressing his pelvis into hers, which caused her to subtly grind back into him. She was clearly aching for it.
"...Yes...Yes sir. I've been good..." She whimpered.
He slowly lifted her, still kissing her, and bent her over the nearby kitchen counter. She felt his hand tracing, slowly, suggestively, up her thigh, dancing towards her waiting lips.
"...so good, sir." She moaned.
He lifted up her dress and flipped it over her hips and pressed into her.
"Is that so? Maybe I should have you right now, then? What do you think?" He said, toyingly, authoritatively.
"...whatever you want, Sir..." she whispered.
"Very good girl. Whose pussy is this?" He commanded.
"Yours, Sir. It's your pussy." She said in a way that sounded like it came out of a tape recorder, like it had been rehearsed, over and over. She was not knew to this game, but didn't know how it would play out.
"And who was not permitted to cum last night?" He said, with a tone of disappointment.
"I wasn't, sir. I was a bad girl. I'm sorry." She plead. "I've been so good today, I promise."
He could hear her desperation. She was practically begging. It made him hard. She could feel him against her. So close. So fucking close.
He carefully threaded his hand through her hair, pulling on it just the way she liked it to pull her back to standing. He turned her around, squeezed her from her narrow waist, and skillful, artfully slid his tongue into her mouth, controlling her as she submitted to the will of his kiss, his body. He then released her, smiled, and held his hand out.
"Let's see how good you've been today." He said, sternly.
She smiled and pulled out a small piece of paper from her apron pocket, and handed it to him. It was her list of chores for the day. Every day he left her a to-do list, it was his role as Head of Household to set expectations, enforce household rules, and most of all, inspire her greatness to shine.
He unfolded the list, and it said:
- Clean, fold, and hang up laundry. Iron shirts.
- Send thank you cards (Heartfelt message for each one) to guests from last weeks dinner party.
- Attend at least one yoga class.
- Spend at least one hour working on your design/art business.
- Read book for book club. We discuss chapter 16 tonight.
- Clean bathroom. (She knew she was in trouble from yesterday when this was on the list. She hated cleaning the bathroom.)
- New recipe tonight.
- Watch at least two TED talks.
- Never stop being you. (He always liked to leave something cute at the end)
He saw that each had a check-mark next to it. He smiled.
"You have been good." He said with appreciation. He saw her reaching for plates and knew it was time for dinner. He quickly Took Her by the Hand, and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate you" he said, and then walked to the dining room and took a seat.
She was over in no-time with a plate for him. She always served him first. Oven roasted chicken, home-made mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, fresh salad, rolls, her pinterest inspired meal artfully set out on a plate. She walked into the living room, retrieved his drink, refreshed it, set it down, then smiled and put her hands on her hips, with a smile.
"The chicken is rubbed with a new Cajun seasoning mix I found. I know how you like you food spicy. And the gravy has some mushrooms in it that I got from the market, it's very flavorful. Plus, I used whole grain bread for the stuffing, because I know you like to eat healthy. What do you think?"
She was obviously very proud of herself. And so was he.
"Thank you darling. Please sit with me." He said with an appreciate tone and warm smile.
She joined him, sitting down gently, he noticed. Sore. He could feel her watching him as he took his first bite. He sat back, moaned, and give her the look of approval. She'd served him thousands of meals, she knew this exact look when she saw it. In turn, she smiled with a proud, affectionate, feminine satisfaction that she only felt in moments like this, when she had worked to serve him, in a way only a woman can serve a man, and brought him such pleasure. She felt him take her hand.
"I really appreciate everything you do for me, and all the work you put in to making this house a home. This is delicious, and I'm very, very grateful to have you. I'd never want any other woman in the world here but you, beautiful." He said, authentically, from a place deep in his heart.
"Oh, it's nothing..." She said, blushing, grinning. She had no words for how good it felt to still be appreciated every single day, just like he did on their first date. So many of her friends always complained about fighting with their boyfriend over this and this. Not in her home. Not where each partner knew exactly what was expected of them and always acted from a place of love.
They talked about their days, they laughed. Anytime he needed something, she got up before he could even ask. They talked about the book they were reading together. She told him about what she'd learned in her Ted talks. She was excited her yoga practiced was deepening. She also chatted with a possible new client for her design business. He was so proud of her. It was a great day.
After dinner, he saw her very quickly begin washing the dishes. She was eager tonight, he could tell. A hard spanking was always undesirable for her, but the soreness would keep her wet and obedient for days. He moved to his chair, with his drink, and waited for her. Soon after, she walked over, and without a word, layed across his lap. He squeezed her at her waist and pulled her over his knee. He heard her take a deep breath as he raised up her dress.
This was an everyday occurrence in their household. To keep her from acting out, seeking punishment, she was spanked every night. If she was a good girl, it was a pleasurable experience that always ended in orgasm. If she was bad, well, she got what she got last night, the hairbrush, soreness, and her orgasm denied. As he pulled up her dress, her ass was still bruised underneath her panties. She felt him rub his hand gently over her toned, firm ass. She had gone to yoga today.
"You've been a very good girl today. I'm very honored to have you as my wife." He said, as he lifted his hand and gently brought it down on her bottom. He massaged her before spanking her again, this time, a little harder. She cooed. He held her tight against him, and spanked her again. Always rubbing her in between impact. His hand squeezing, kneading, pressing into her thighs, up her legs, across her cheeks, and just glancing over her pussy, for now.
"Would you like me to play with your pussy? He asked with a smirk.
"...Yes sir. Please play with my pussy. Please. " She moaned. Her breath had gotten heavier, more sporadic.
"Well, since you asked nicely..."
He slowly, teasingly slid her panties off and down her thighs, leaving them around her knees. He felt her body tremble as her pussy became exposed to the open air. She was dripping wet, and her wonderful, feminine scent filled the room. His hand traced iys way back up, squeezing her thigh, up and around her eager pussy, before giving her another spank. Then another. She felt his hand that had cradled her slide underneath, searching, guiding it's way towards her clit. He saw her toes begin to curl and knew he had her. He had been looking forward to this all day, and so had she.
Every spank slowly become harder. He took his time to tease her in-between, and slowly began playing with her clit, squeezing it, pulling it, rubbing it. Soon she felt his other hand, always dancing past her lips, finally rest on it, pressing on her pussy with his palm, making her moan instinctively, animalistically. She was craving penetration. He knew she'd do anything for it. This is what kept her obedient. Moments just like this.
He let one finger slowly slide inside her. His other hand released her clit and worked it's way on top, spanking her with force. As his finger probed, teased, rubbed, thrusted inside her, he spanked her with his other hand, the spanks now rather intense, making her squirm, but she still enjoying it. He allowed a second finger to stretch inside her pussy just as he spanked her so hard she nearly jumped, then groaned with pleasure. Then he said the words that nearly made her cum.
"You have my permission to play with your clit, darling."
She had a hand down there before she could even finish the words "Thank you, Sir." He'd let it slide, this time. He slowly thrusted his two fingers in her pussy, his other hand spanking her, hard now, leaving marks, sending lightning bolts of pain and pleasure from her spine to her toes, rocking her, shaking her, transforming her. She played with her clit with purpose, she was eager to cum. She was close. He spanked her so hard she yelped, and fingered her pussy with purpose and force. He felt her body relent to his strength. He breathed her submission into his pores. She ached for release. It was time.
"Would you like to cum, sweetheart?" He said in a tone that mixed dominance with affection, that combined control with release.
"...Yes sir...Please..." She gasped between breaths. She was practically panting.
"You'll have to do better than that..." He said, unimpressed. "Beg."
He ramped up his fingers to thrust so quickly she couldn't breathe. He spanked her with the amount of force that her body would only register hours later. She was so fucking close she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't have a single thought in her mind, just the experience of this moment.
"Please sir...fucking please...I want to cum so FUCKING bad...I've been so good...I've done everything you asked of me...oh please...please please...PLEASE~!"
She screamed the last word with desperation, from her soul, from that part of her that had always wanted this type of Man in her life, from that last part of her that held out submission. With that last word, she gave herself to him, completely, unequivocally, from a primal place that understood that this was everything she had ever wanted.
"Then cum. Cum for your Sir." He said.
And with those words, he felt her hand rub her pussy with a vigor only someone on-the-brink could muster. Her body tensed, her toes curled, her head bend back, her breathing stopped, just for a moment, until he felt her pussy contract on his thrusting fingers and she screamed an orgasm from the depths of her soul. She moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors, she shook, she spasmed, she was completely lost in this moment, lost so deep down a rabbit hole of petticoats, polka dots, and pearls that she would never ever want anything else but to cum just-like-this every fucking night of her life. Forever.
It felt like an hour before she regained even the slightest of her senses. He slowly slid her panties up, and gently tugged her dress back down. As he lifted her up and sat her on his lap, he saw a look of complete, utter submission. But it was much more than that. In those beautiful eyes and that lovely smile, he could feel her trust in him, her faith in his leadership, and the bond, the love they shared that made all of this possible. And as she slowly slid down to her knees, and began to unbutton his pants, he knew that all of the time he spent searching for her, and the days, weeks, months, and years of courtship had all been worth it. He grabbed his drink, and took a sip just as she took him in her mouth.
They would be dancing tonight, after all, he thought. She'd been very good. Better than good. She'd been perfect.