A Wife's Choice

This is a revised and edited version of this piece, posted on Literotica/Loving wives.

Pardon my mistake in posting the unedited version with all its errors.

***

This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos.

Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited.

My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are often a shitshow.

***

Preamble

The sounds of her heels on the tiles announce her to men and women still working in the corporate offices. As she heads to her work area, she nods briefly to a few people she knows. They acknowledge her, knowing she is higher ranked than they. Most unaware of her specific duties.

The CEO's personal assistant looks at her and nods. Unlike the other staff, the buxom redhead knows quite well what the blond woman's function is. But each person in the company structure has their place, and the assistant is content with hers. She had been in the blond's position some years before and had grown tired of it. The PA's salary is just too good for her to think of quitting, even if she has some lingering duties in the mornings when the blond is not available.

The lithe blond woman in heels is one of the CEO's staff. She usually arrives at BCE systems before 4:00 PM, allowing her enough time to get ready before her duties begin. Her office, separate from other employees, is behind the CEO executive suite. Dropping off her things at her desk, she heads to the ladies room. She makes sure she relieves herself before wiping twice with a wet wash-cloth. Next comes the mirror and the standard make-up touch-up. Once finished, she checks her clock and rings her boss precisely at 4:30 PM. Never early or late.

The lock of the secure door from her office to his suite clicks, and the door pops out an inch. Waiting by it, she opens it and enters his realm. The short hallway leads to his office, where she finds him sitting behind his desk. He does not acknowledge her, but she knows he is aware of her entrance as she moves to a foot away from the desk in front of him. Then staring at the clock on the wall, she waits for precisely five minutes and kneels.

"Sir, what is your wish, Sir?"

"You are learning," he comments, finally looking up.

He is inwardly happy after observing her perform the routine flawlessly.

"Stand."

She obediently places one leg forward with her hands pointing down away from her body and rises Venus-like from the Aegean surf. To him, she looks like a goddess in her dark red mid-thigh dress. Draped over her body, it showcases her long legs, shapely ankles, and narrow waist. Her breasts require the barest of support for her thirty-four C breasts.

Her white high heels add to her allure, making her look taller than her five-foot-four height. Her hair hanging past her shoulders when she arrived is tossed to the left, showing her beautiful neck and ear on the right side. All this the request of her boss, who sends her dress orders via text each morning.

The CEO rises and comes around the desk to inspect his most essential and precious staff member. The young married mom is his most recently recruited member of his personal staff. Listed as a projects efficiency expert, she is a degreed accountant with a high IQ and other duties after her primary purpose. Those duties she will tend to after her boss is finished with her and leaves for the night. And sometimes he stays later. She is his favorite, after all.

He spends some time going over her work duties for the evening after his departure. Reports and some research he only trust her to do. Diligently, she takes notes on the pad she brought. Along with other responsibilities, he entrusts her with confidential projects. But first...

"It has been a long day," he announces as he stands. "Follow me."

Walking past the copier and stationary room, he leads her to his private rest and playroom. It is spacious with a king-size bed, dresser, closet space, and door to his private bathroom. It is a man's room. The decor and furniture have no feminine touch. A reminder that women come there and leave. She closes the door to the office behind her and attends to him as he disrobes.

"I trust all is well at home?"

"Yes, sir," she replies, offering nothing more unless he asks.

She made the mistake of prattling on once in their early days. Her boss had taught her not to with a harsh beating of her ass and thighs. Training, he had called it. And she had been subjected to more as time passed.

In those early days, when she still had sex with her husband, he kept the marks on her body down to a minimum. As she was no longer intimate at home, he felt free to mark her at will. Not on her face or where they could be seen. And if he did, as he had on the left side of her neck when he got carried away, she was smart enough to cover the welt with her hair.

He is naked now. She hangs his expensive suit in the closet and collects his shoes, shirt, and underwear, placing them on the chair by the dresser. When she turns back, he is pouring himself a drink. He likes his mind and body lucid when he engages with her. The beverage is non-alcoholic, merely to wash down "the pill" to give him the extra boost he indulges in to enhance his hardness.

"Does your husband suspect?"

"No sir," she replies while standing by him attentively.

"I know you chose to cut him off sexually, contrary to my orders, but I understand. You are risking a lot with this. I wanted your husband content and... busy. I wanted you to focus knowing he was taking care of your children while you devote your evenings to me and your job."

She does not reply.

"How long has it been since you and he had sex?"

"Five weeks, sir."

"If your decision causes any issues for me, I will make you regret it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replies. "Unless you insist, in which case I will do as you order."

"Very well, time for you to earn your keep. Disrobe."

And that she does, just as he likes. Deliberately and slowly. After unzipping her dress, she lifts it by the hem pulling it over her head. Gone are the underwear she wore when she left home. Discarded in the ladies room and stored in her bag for later. She now stands in black-colored stockings, a black garter belt, and her high heels.

He stands walking around to inspect her appearance.

"Spread and bend over."

Widening her stance, she leans, so her hands rest on her knees. As her back arches, her shapely ass juts out for him to fondle. His fingers drift low between her legs to inspect her shaved vulva. Finding her already wet, he nods in approval. It feeds his vanity, knowing how she is turning into a willing and compliant playmate.

"On your knees," he instructs.

She kneels in front of him and looks up. He looks back and reaches out to touch her face. She leans her cheek into his hand, and in a moment of personal impulsive need, she kisses it. He is taken aback as she does it again.

"Thank you, Sir," she utters again. "Thank you for all you have done and do for me. Thank you." She repeatedly says with kisses on his palm, fingers, and wrist. "Thank you. Thank you."

Overcome with emotion, tears run down her face.

"Now, now," her boss tries to settle her. "Of course, I would be there for you. It is part of our deal. And I keep my promises."

"And thank you for giving me this new life. You have freed me."

Freeing her was the last thing on his mind. If anything, he had manipulated her distress to entrap and use her. That he had to do good by her was something he knew he had to do to gain her trust. Now she was thanking him?

"You consider your situation freeing?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. You showed me that by submitting to you, I no longer had to deal with daily pressures as a woman. Your dominance over me freed me from what I had been taught all my life was expected of me. I was released from having to be the woman who had to have it all and do it all. Now I have more, and I have you."

He stood straighter as this beautiful younger woman's words boosted his ego. His almost nine-inch cock now towered over her as they gazed at each other. Feeling the aphrodisiac of power, as well as the pill he took, he feels more virile. He needs to have this woman without the preliminaries he previously enjoyed. There would be more time for that later, he decides.

"Show me your appreciation. Show me with that pretty mouth of yours."

Without delay or a single uttered word, the young woman opens her mouth, extending her tongue to lick his shaft as she knows he likes. Forgetting his past instructions, she reaches for his balls and shaft. His size and handsomeness are further reasons why she had so effortlessly submitted to him. That her new protector and master was a fine male specimen had made her submission almost inevitable.

Her mouth, now forming along his shaft, competes with her tongue for the pleasure she wishes to bestow on him. Licking and kissing her way around the massive symmetrical pole, she works one then the other side. Her small hands caress his balls and hold the base of his shaft. With all his pubic hair removed, his monster cock seems more prominent and imposing to her.

"Suck it," he says from above, like the sex god he is to her.

Opening her mouth, she lets his bulbous phallus glide over her tongue to the inner sanctum of her oral cavity. Lowering her head, she takes it in and latches her lips behind the head. It was then she feels, first one, then both his strong hands on her head. Just to guide her at first and show his approval, he lets her bob her head at her own pace to show her appreciation, each lick and slurp but an act of submissive fealty.

He revels in her enthusiasm and care as she sucks noisily each time she bobs that pretty head over his manhood. The sight of her puffy red lips holding on to his cockhead then plunging to tackle all of it arouses him. Almost as much as the sensations of her tongue snaking to lick his underside. Once again, the notion of this beautiful woman being his willing plaything drives him mad.

"Yeah... suck that dick... suck it... show me how you appreciate what I have done for you. Show me..."

She continues as ordered. Even after Sir slaps her hands away and grasps her head, face-fucking her harshly, she lets him willingly. Once again, she is on a submissive high and lost in it. Her master is using her to satisfy his pleasure. The pleasure she craves to give him willingly. And she submits as if she had been born to it.

He shoves his cock in her mouth deeper each time, assaulting the ramparts of her throat. Just enough for her to feed his sadism with her gagging. Pushing in her throat, he holds his cock there until she trembles and begins to jerk in panic. Reveling in her powerlessness, he pulls back, letting her breathe.

"Good girl," he says to her as if letting her breathe is a gift he bestows on her at his whim. "Now relax and swallow it again. Yes... good girl. Hold it... hold it."

Once again, she gasps for air; the high of near asphyxiation heightening her arousal. Not once does she consider resisting him as he uses her. And then he pulls back, allowing her to suck him just in her mouth.

"Good girl. Now suck on it some more..."

As she obeys, the room fills with sounds of her lips and mouth slobbering over his massive pole. Spittle drips down his cock and balls to the carpet. And still, he fucks her mouth as her body trembles from the assault.

He knows that if he lets himself become enthralled with throat fucking her, he will cum in her mouth. And while that would seem the thing to do at other times, he wants her body. To be inside her when he shoots his load. 'A moment like this should not be wasted on a blow job,' he thinks.

"Get on the bed and take those shoes off," he commands, offering her a rare hand for help.

"Yes, Sir! Oh yes," she answers hoarsely. Her throat still sore. "How do you want me?"

"On the middle, on your back. Legs spread for me."

"Oh yes. Yes, Sir!"

He does not know what had come over her today. But he realizes this is a special moment. It had happened once before in his memory. Six years ago, when her predecessor had finally submitted to him willingly. The power he held over them and his continued goodwill wore on them in time. Eventually, they surrendered any notion of devotion to anyone other than him. The realization is just another high of his power trip and sadism.

Punish, reward was the usual fair of their day. But her final submission today drives him to a new high. Moving between her legs, he rubs the tip of his thick prick between her wet labia as she cranes her neck to see the spectacle. Her eyes are as big as saucers as her mouth opens to bare her teeth. Lips trembling, she breathes faster in anticipation.

"Please," she begs. "Please..."

"Hold my cock in place," he orders her.

She does so willingly, spreading her legs as wide as she can while arching her hips at him as he smirks. He knows now that he owns her. There is no more doubt in her mind if she is his. Only he is wrong. She has been his since the first time. Had her husband been there on that first day, the look of loss and disappointment in the poor man's face would have let her boss know that.

But he learned with her predecessor, now his PA. In her first time, the CEO had brought her husband in the office to be part of her defiling. The weak husband had stood by as his wife submitted for the sheer offer of a promotion to VP. The CEO would visit their home and fuck his PA while the hapless husband watched. But while the thrill fed his ego, the act had eventually destroyed the husband. The man was still VP, but in title only. And the CEO learned his lesson to leave the husbands out of it.

His large hands reached for her waist as he looked into her eyes.

"You are mine," he hissed as he repeatedly nodded in submission.

And before she could reply, he drove half his battering ram in her. Gasping at the rapid intrusion, she groaned, waiting for what was to come as her thighs trembled. He never pulled out but continued staring into her eyes.

"All mine," he said and thrust inside her again.

She grunted as his girth split her open and drove over her cervix and past it. She felt the air sucked out of her lungs as his head sank deep in her rearranging the walls of her cunt channel. Looking down, he saw barely an inch remaining outside. An inch she knew he would plant in her along with the rest of him as he had before.

"More," she gasped as he smirked and nodded, reveling at his conquest.

***

The call

'Mr. Henderson?,' I heard a woman's voice on the phone.

"Yes," I replied, wondering who it was. "Can I help you?"

The phone ID said unidentified caller, but I had been expecting a call from my sister and had answered without looking.

'I believe your wife, Lisa, works at BCE Systems, am I correct.'

That was undoubtedly true. Lisa, my wife of fifteen years and mother of our two children, worked where this stranger said. My wife was a nightshift analyst. A glorified accountant and projects efficiency expert. Namely, a human calculator. The woman can do calculus in her head.

"Is everything OK with my wife?" I asked, checking the time.

Lisa should be either on her way to BCE or in the building. Checking Google Maps, I saw her avatar almost over her company building.

"I think she is almost at work," I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

There was a slight hesitation.

"You work at Abberton Electronics in Springfield Business Park, correct?" she asked.

"Ma'am, you certainly know a lot about my wife and me, and I don't even know who you are. So, unless you can rectify that, this call ends."

"Please don't hang up," she replied. "You need to hear what I have to say."

"Make it quick," I reply. "My workday is done, and I need to go pick up my kids from the babysitter."

The kids were in a secure overpriced daycare center open until seven at night, and it was only 3:15 in the afternoon. But she didn't need to know that.

"Your kids will be fine, Mr. Henderson. Can I call you Dave?"

"No, you cannot. Not until you let me know who you are and the purpose of your call," I replied, trying to remain polite.

"I am parked outside your job, Mr. Henderson. It's a white Land Rover with black custom wheels and a black grille. The windows are tinted. When you come out, please drive to the Mall lot not far from you and come to my vehicle so we can talk. My name is Kathy."

"I'll be out in a couple of minutes," I replied and hung up.

My interest was piqued. Both at the possible connection to my wife and who this woman was. Shutting down my desktop and locking my office, I walked to the elevators and then out the lobby. True to this Kathy's word, there was a tinted window version of a white Land Rover Discovery facing me as I walked to my Lexus IS 300. I couldn't make out what she looked like, so I decided to follow her instructions.

She pulled out just as I was driving out of my spot, and I followed. Sure enough, we were at the mall with the upscale parking garage by Sax 5th Avenue. Nordstrom's was on the other corner with its own garage. She found a spot, and I pulled into one of five places from hers. I had one last internal debate if I should talk to her, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I exited my vehicle.

When I got close to her Land Rover, I noticed the Illinois plates. Two states over from Ohio. And we were on the other end of it by Pennsylvania. She had traveled a ways to get to where I was. It made me think it was probably something important. With more than a little apprehension, I knocked on her passenger window.

Hearing the door-lock unlock, I opened it and looked in. I was greeted by the sight of a slim brunet in jeans, boots, and a white sweater. She had mid-length jet black hair, red lipstick on full lips, and dark sunglasses. I made her out to be anywhere between thirty-five and forty. But one never knew with women and their age.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson," she said, waving me in."

I expected us to chat right there, but the door locks clicked shut, and she placed the transmission on drive. She pointed to the passenger seatbelt, which I reluctantly clicked on.

"Where are you taking me, Kathy... is there a last name, and is it Miss or Mrs.?"

"It's Mrs. Sanchez-Weise. For now, anyway."

"Your last name is familiar," I replied. "But you have Illinois plates."

Weise, Weise... where had I heard that name before? Lisa's company CEO? The name was not common, but I had known people named Weise in New York, LA, and even in North Carolina when I worked there for a summer. It was spelled differently but pronounced the same.

"I can tell your family name is Hispanic," I said.

"From Texas," she replied proudly. "My family had been in Texas since before it was the Republic of Texas. Our ancestors fought against Santa Ana when he invaded."

She was definitely proud of her pedigree and family history.

"And the Weise name?"

"Austrian," she replied, pursing her lips. "My husband, Erich, is the CEO of BCE systems. We are currently living in Chicago, but we used to live here when the company headquarters was in Ohio. Well, I live in Chicago. He is living here in Ohio for the time being."

At this point, I was starting to worry about the connection.

"And what does this have to do with my wife and me?"

By now, she had pulled away and drove away from the mall.

"I would like an answer, please," I said with a stern tone.

She took off her shades, turning to look at me with piercing almond-shaped brown eyes. Then turning her attention back on the road, she starts to speak.