Couples Counseling

Rebecca finally convinced her husband Paul to go to marital counseling, but it was finally on the condition that he would get to pick the counselor. Her alarm bells had gone up immediately, but when she investigated this "Doctor Bell" she found that he had glowing reviews from dozens, if not hundreds of couples. They all said that he had made their relationships happier and healthier. Maybe Paul was finally taking responsibility for their relationship.

Mostly, Rebecca was hoping that some outside influence in their relationship could see the one-sided nature of it. Rebecca did all the chores, made all the food, and even worked a steady job. Paul worked, but when he got home he just laid on the couch watching TV or made passes at her sexually. He never contributed to the household. Rebecca was hoping that some outside voice could speak reason to him.

So they went to Dr. Bell. He was a young man, which alarmed Rebecca at first, but his smile was warm and he welcomed them into his office. Rewards, certificates, and even multiple diplomas lined the walls, but above all of that it was his comforting voice that seemed to set Rebecca most at ease. She and Paul settled down onto the couch across from Dr. Bell.

"So, Rebecca, why don't you start," Dr. Bell said. "Talk me through what's been bothering you."

And Rebecca talked. She talked about the dishes, the garbage, making dinner, cleaning bathrooms, even going to get the car washed. And she talked about Paul's laziness, and uncaringness, and how it felt like she was only one who ever tried in their partnership.

After the first ten minutes, Rebecca started to see Dr. Bell's eyes glaze over, like he was bored. She started to get frustrated and was about to say something about it when Dr. Bell said, "Alright, you can stop talking now." Rebecca's mouth snapped shut. She was angry at being dismissed in such a casual way, but when she thought about all the things she would say about it, her mouth just refused to cooperate. She sat there silently.

Dr. Bell turned to Paul and said, "I see what you mean, man." He grinned a grin that was better suited for a frathouse than a counseling session. Rebecca stood, outraged, but even still she couldn't bring herself to voice her rage.

"Sit down," Dr. Bell said and Rebecca immediately sat.

"I think what the problem is," Dr. Bell said to Rebecca, "is that you are too demanding. You ask too much, and you don't realize that Paul has earned the right to sit on the couch after work. It's not his responsibility to do chores all day long."

Of course, Dr. Bell was right and Rebecca knew it. Paul worked hard and had earned the right to do whatever he wanted to after work to relax. She wondered why she had bitched about it so much. Was she just lazy and trying to get out of work?

"On top of that, you talk way too much," Dr. Bell continued. "Women are meant to be seen and not heard. You flap your mouth way too much and should be ashamed of yourself for it."

And Rebecca was. She was so ashamed. Why did she have to talk so much. Why couldn't she just keep her big mouth shut like a good woman was supposed to? Shame poured over her.

"So here's what I think you should do," Dr. Bell said. "When you get home from work, make your husband whatever he wants for dinner. Do the chores without complaining. If he wants a beer, it's your job to go to the fridge and get him a beer. Clean up after him and don't nag all the time. It's not hard, it's just called being a good wife. Will you be a good wife to your husband, Rebecca?"

Rebecca, still finding it hard to speak, nodded fervently.

"Good," Dr. Bell said with a smile. "There are exceptions to the 'no speaking', of course. Responses of submission, such 'Yes sir' are acceptable times to speak. When inquiring how best to serve you husband, you may speak, so long as the intention of your communication is his pleasure or benefit. And, naturally, if your husband likes dirty talk in the bedroom then its your right—in fact, your duty—to oblige him. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded.

"Good," Dr. Bell continued. "Now, earlier I said that women are meant to be seen and not heard. Let's talk more about that." Rebecca leaned in, listening with all of her focus at the gospel that was coming out of Dr. Bell's mouth. "Women are, by nature, sexual beings. You were made for sex. It's in your DNA and the happiest women are the ones who lean into that sexual identity as much as possible. That means dressing provocatively. That means getting in shape. If your husband prefers, that means surgery to amplify that visual appear. I mean, look at you. Did you even try today?"

Rebecca was again ashamed. She had worn very professional clothes that covered most of her skin. There was no cleavage, no midriff, and no leg. It wasn't even very loose so that her figure could be seen. And the most grievous offence, she knew, was her plain white underwear underneath it all. Not sexy at all.

"No sir," Rebecca said meekly.

"Stand up," Dr. Bell said and immediately Rebecca was on her feet. "Take off all that rubbish so we can get a good look at you."

Rebecca stripped, immediately discarding the blouse and pants she had worn in. The uninspired underwear was quick to follow. She stood naked, trying to look as pleasing as possible before Her Man and Dr. Bell.

"Paul, I think I've been talking too much," Dr. Bell said, stepping back. "Why don't you go and tell your wife what you like and don't like about her body, her wardrobe, and all of that. Go on, Paul. This is a safe place and you should be honest with her." Dr. Bell turned back to Rebecca, "Remember carefully what he says to you. If your responsibility to please him, which means becoming that perfect sexual being for him."

Paul stepped forward. His eyes were large and filled with excitement. Rebecca watched them pass over her, ready to absorb all of the bits of wisdom that would come out of that mouth. Internally, she was begging him to tell her how to be sexy for him.

"Your breasts could be bigger," Paul said, his voice just slightly hesitant.

"Paul, come on!" Dr. Bell chided. "You're in a safe place. Call them what they are."

"Your tits," Paul smiled, like some dam had burst in his hesitation. "Your tits could be bigger. I want your tits to be bigger. At least D cup."

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded humbly.

"And your stomach has gotten a bit bigger. You should stop eating so much. Work out. Lose the weight."

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded. How could she have been so careless to let herself become so unsexy for her man?

"Work your ass out more," Paul said, reaching around and cupping one hand aggressively on her right cheek. "I want something firm that I can grab and smack."

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded.

"What about wardrobe?" Dr. Bell prompted.

"Cleavage. No point in having those nice tits if you're not showing them off. No more covering your midriff. And short skirts."

"Don't be afraid to get kinky with it," Dr. Bell chimed in.

"I want you to get cheerleader outfits. Skimpy ones," Paul said, barely pausing after Dr. Bell's words. His demands were pouring freely now and he carried forward with his momentum. "Role play costumes. Sexy secretary, nurse, French maid, schoolgirl... I want you looking like a fucking porn star."

"Now Paul brings up a good point," Dr. Bell said. "Is it enough to look like a porn star? Shouldn't she behave like one too?"

"Yes," Paul nodded. "She is my private whore."

"Good," Dr. Bell grinned. He approached Rebecca and said, "Did you hear that, Rebecca. You are your husband's private whore. He's going to explain what that means and you are going to listen, obey, and embody."

"Yes sirs," Rebecca nodded vigorously.

"I get to fuck you however and whenever. No hole is off limits. No act is too much. I will choke you, slap you, fuck your throat, and cum all over your tits. And you are going to be fucking ecstatic about all of it. You love it when I fuck you. And you love it most when it's most degrading. I will call you names, verbally abuse you, and humiliate you. And I expect you to wholeheartedly agree with all of it. And be so happy during all of it."

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded. Inside, she wondered why she was standing during this and not on her knees sucking his dick. But her husband was speaking, so she dared not interrupt.

"I am going to degrade you, videotape you, and you are going to worship me every moment of it and beg for more. If I choose to, I'll loan you out to my friends. You'll do what I say to do with them, but you'll remain mine the whole time."

Paul moved close, some wild energy lose inside his mind. Rebecca knew that his dick must be hard and inside she was yearning to service it.

"You are my property. Your pleasure is nothing. I am your owner and your master."

"Yes sir," Rebecca nodded.

Paul smiled. His eyes were hungrily devouring every inch of her. She wished she had already gotten her tit-job so he could have something better to look at. She had been a poor excuse for a wife-slave, but now she was going to make it up to him.

Paul turned to Dr. Bell and grinned wildly.

"Are you happy?" Dr. Bell asked.

"Wildly," Paul grinned.

"Good," Dr. Bell said. "I'm going to step outside for a moment. I'm sure you want to give her a try."

She knees were on the floor even before the door closed.

Three months later

Rebecca had spent the day cleaning. She looked eagerly at the clock every few minutes, counting down long until Her Master came home. She paused cleaning the house mid-day, taking a sexy video of a strip show in lace with sky-high heels. Her new perky tits bounced along with the show. She sent the video to her husband-owner, who replied and told her to post it.

Rebecca had long since stopped working. They had found that the online porn community was a much better use of Rebecca's time. She could work from home, make money by selling her body to strangers online, and her full-time job was being sexy. It was really a perfect arrangement.

Paul had loaned her out a few times, of course. The first was to Dr. Bell, apparently as payment for the wonderfully counseling session. Other times, her sexual favors were up for grabs on the poker table. Once, Paul took her along as entertainment at a bachelor party. She danced for all of them, then gave the husband-to-be a deepthroating facefuck. Her Master was pleased with her that night. She could tell by how roughly he fucked her ass.

At four, she hurried to the bedroom to make sure she was presentable. She was wearing her collar—she hardly took it off anymore. Her makeup was thick (the words "look like a fucking pornstar" were constant in her mind). She picked a net bra that supported her, but hid nothing. A pair of leggings and a see-through thong accompanied it. She looked good and fuckable.

Her Master got home at 5:15. She had been kneeling by the door for forty-five minutes at that point. Paul smiled, took a picture with his phone, and sat on a recliner while he looked at her.

"Beg for it, whore," he commanded.

Immediately, a flood of words poured out of Rebecca's mouth: "Please sir, I want you to fuck me so much. Shove your dick down my throat so I can't fucking breath. Stuff it in my dripping pussy or so far up my ass I'll scream. I want it so bad. I can't think of anything else except for how hard it must be and how much I want it to defile me. God I'm such a worthless little whore, please punish me."

She continued. Eventually, he stood and approached her. She didn't stop begging until her mouth was filled with his dick. He obliged her, shoving it in as far as it would go until she gagged—and then farther. He was always rough and she loved it. His dick tasted like candy and she was just wanted to keep sucking.

Occasionally, he would reach down and slap one of her big titties. It hurt and that made her wet. He held her head in two firm hands, really picking up the pace. He was horny tonight and Rebecca silently congratulated herself on her good work.

Finally, he pulled out of her mouth and began to stroke over her tits. "What are you?" he said.

"I'm your perfect little fucktoy. I am your worthless whore. You slut, your slave, your happy little bitch. Please sir, degrade me more. Cover your cum dumpster with her treat, I need it so bad. All over these perky little tits."

He came. His load was thick and covered her. Halfway through, he shoved it back in her mouth and she began sucked it out happily. She swallowed everything. She even took a finger and scooped up the cum on her tits, licking it off slowly.

"Get me dinner," Paul said, retiring to the couch. Rebecca stood quickly and hurried to the kitchen. She had to do her duty to her husband.

For just a moment, she had a chance to think about how lucky she was that she had insisted on goign to counceling. Dr. Bell had really shown her how to be a good wife.