PLEASE, Baby, Put Me in My Place!

The tension in Rodney's hands was so intense that his knuckles ached. He stared at the garage door in front of him for what seemed like an eternity.

After taking several moments of focusing on nothing in particular, Rodney snapped out of his trance and realized how tight he was gripping the steering wheel of his vehicle. It's an involuntary response to all of the stress he'd been dealing with.

That's the life of the entrepreneur that no one wants to talk about.

Those lonely days bleed into lonely nights -- even if you've been around several people and had meetings all day. It's because few people understand the grind, the fear, and the level of uncertainty you have to push through to be worth a damn in such a rough business climate with no guarantees.

That loneliness had extended to his relationship with Priscilla for quite some time now.

Rodney and Priscilla have been married for 7 years, which is about the time that many people say you start to get that marital itch. The couple hadn't had sex in the longest, and the intimacy was bone dry.

It wasn't for a lack of effort. They just keep missing each other these days.

Rodney breathed a deep sigh, as though he knew he was walking into a battle that he just didn't have the energy for today. He hit the Start/Stop button next to the steering wheel, disabling the engine.

After a deep breath, Rodney stepped outside of his hard-earned blue BMW sedan and got out, putting one foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other -- the metaphorical story of exactly how Rodney has accomplished everything worth having in his life.

As Rodney trudged up the driveway, each step felt like eternal quicksand. His legs grew heavier the closer he got to the front door. His mind and body ached too much to even appreciate the beautiful Georgian architecture and warm colors built through his efforts and ingenuity.

After putting his key in the door, all Rodney could think about was a hot shower. Shit, maybe even a hot bath. His life was that type of day at the grind.

Rodney's home is an oasis just outside of the hottest part of town. The property quietly sits atop a hill -- a lush, green acre teeming with life and vibrance. Ever the man's man, Rodney cuts the grass himself, not wanting to lose touch with the inner working man that earned him his success.

It was that dog in Rodney that built this kingdom. Deep down, Rodney knew if he ever got stripped back down to noodles and sleeping on an inflatable mattress, he could get it all back.

That's the kind of power you only get through effort, sacrifice, and perseverance.

Inside the house, Rodney and his wife, Priscilla enjoy having a huge jetted tub in their master bathroom. Well, Priscilla enjoys it. Rodney hardly ever uses it. How could he when duty calls?

Basically, all of the comforts and luxuries of this home were built by the sweat of Rodney's brow for his family to enjoy and for him to rarely experience. Enjoying it a little too much would make him soft. Soft men don't build legacies.

A wave of relief mixed with guilt hit Rodney when he realized that his parents had taken the boys for the weekend. His boys, Eli and Addison had been dying to go on a camping trip with their grandfather.

It was all they had talked about for weeks. Rodney and Priscilla agreed to let the boys' grandparents pick them up from school that day so they could get the camping started as early as possible.

Rodney was relieved as soon as he remembered.

He gets to do some much-needed unwinding this weekend without worrying about his parental responsibilities. It'll be a nice breather.

Rodney felt guilt for the same reason. It's not easy to unwind knowing that so many people rely on you. It's hard for him to cut it on and off.

Rodney is self-sacrificing, sometimes to a fault, since this grind is about his family and their future, at the end of the day.

The house, nice cars, fancy linens... All of that is nice, but Rodney recognizes that all of those comforts are for the benefit of his wife Priscilla, and their sons. Women and children get to live lives of comfort. Men have to go out and chart their path.

But seeing his wife and kids doing well, kids in private school, a big backyard, and the whole nine -- it makes the work and sacrifice worthwhile.

The door swung open and Rodney took a deep breath inhaling the freshness of the place and the scenery of the palace infrastructure that his efforts made way for.

Rodney trudged up the spiral staircase and to the master bedroom.

Before he could even make it to the bathroom, Rodney found himself collapsing into the bed in sheer tiredness.

Darkness.

^ ^ ^

Suddenly, Rodney found himself in a ritzy hotel room. Judging by the decor and lighting options, it was definitely an executive-level suite.

A couple of feet below eye level, positioned at the perfect level, was the grandest sight -- a woman's curvy, plump, heart-shaped ass pointed skyward, exposed, and vulnerable. Rodney squinted, realizing his equilibrium was shaky. He had definitely had a few whiskeys.

His mind and body were completely relaxed, his breathing full -- the undeniable recipe for a rock-hard dick. He glanced down. Check.

Rodney smiled a cocky grin, since his dick was at full attention, engorged with volcanic blood from the tip, down the merry-go-round of his girthy shaft. His grin turned to a full-fledged belly laugh seeing his pipe aimed directly between the butt cheeks of his femme fatale for the night.

He took in her whole body -- her smooth, supple skin. Her sultry, fit, curvy figure. She's on all fours, arms, and hands spread in front of her palm down. Face down, in full submission and surrender, acknowledging that Rodney could have her however he wanted.

Make me your bitch, this position signaled to the king looking down at his subject.

Rodney slapped her hard on one of her ass cheeks as if to say "How dare you challenge me". A little bit of pain and light humiliation to let her know he was boss. She cooed as his palm roughly disciplined her for having the audacity to be so damn sexy.

"Oooh, daddy," she sang to Rodney from the depth of her being.

He loved seeing her squirm under his power. Rodney gripped a handful of her other ass cheek, and in one swift motion, rammed every inch of his rock inside of her, not giving a damn about her sensitive little pussy.

The roughness of his entry broke the woman down even further, the pleasure and pain sending her into a tizzy. She arched her back at its steepest possible slope and pushed her naked ass even further skyward as if to say here, take more of me.

His mistress slid her palms from in front of her to her sides, and all the way behind her back. She clasped her hands tightly at the wrist bones at her tailbone, right above her curve, like she was putting the cuffs on herself.

"Fuck my pussy, baby. It's yours," she said, losing full control.

Rodney obliged, stroking her from the depths of his hips, lifting the woman's knees off the mattress with each motion of his dicking. The unmistakable sweaty, sloppy sound of the femme fatale plaything getting pounded with no regard turned them both on at a fever pitch.

Rodney grabbed her around the neck with his other hand, pumping every ounce of his stress into her. The more he gave it to her the more she took it. The more he gave it to her, the more she wanted it.

Good girl.

But oh, did she love being his bad girl. The feeling of sneaking around, knowing that Rodney only had a couple of hours, yet insisted on the finest accommodations with each rendez vous, made the whole exchange even hotter and more of an adventure that way.

Even more forbidden, Rodney knew that he was about to do the unthinkable. Unprotected, Rodney drove his sword deeper into his conquered at different angles with each stroke. He had his way with her with reckless abandon, like a bull in mating season. His cock ached like a hornet's nest and he started seeing stars, flashes, and colors.

Rodney pounded the woman into the mattress, his sweaty abs spanking her soft butt cheeks... Both of them enjoying the slick friction of extramarital sex in a 5-star hotel room. Rodney's entire body heaved as he came inside of her, matching his wetness with hers.

His animal instincts took over as Rodney gripped both hands around her neck as he pumped away, ejaculating deeper and deeper inside of her sweet body...

^^^

Priscilla shook Rodney awake. Better put, she slapped him awake, whacking his bare, sweaty back with the palm of her hand.

"Rodney, wake up," Priscilla finally said, jolting Rodney out of his deep sleep.

Rodney snapped out of it, rolling over to his side, and squinting his eyes. When Rodney's eyes refocused, he saw Priscilla looking at him highly irritated.

He must been having a dream.

Priscilla looked at the scene in front of her...

He must have been having a damn good time, Priscilla thought to herself.

Rodney was basically fucking the bed when she walked into the bedroom. It was slow, rhythmic, and disjointed, though. Almost like a trippy, abstract art exhibit of fucking. It's how Priscilla figured that Rodney had been having a dream.

Damn, if it wasn't sexy, though.

Maybe it's the alcohol. With the kids out of town, Priscilla enjoyed a spa evening with her closest girlfriends. One of the perks of being Mrs. Rodney is members-only access to a posh spa in the city.

It's a 24-hour, full-service spa that's a journey in whatever you choose to dabble in. The journey starts with a shower as soon as you change out of the locker room. That way, everyone's skin is clean when they get to the common area.

Men's and women's nude spa areas are separate, making it the perfect place for Priscilla and her best friends to unwind, drink wine, and soak in a hot spa. It's also the perfect setting for venting all of their problems.

When Priscilla's turn to vent came, she went on a full-on session about how she and Rodney hadn't had sex in so long. She vented about how all Rodney does is work. While it has built them an amazing lifestyle, it also feels empty in a lot of ways.

Their lives, the relationship as a whole were missing passion. The two were like drones that didn't even know how to truly get through to each other anymore.

So when Priscilla comes home, about a bottle of wine deep, and sees the garage door wide open, her body is immediately filled with panic.

Shit, I knew it. I'm a horrible mom.

Her mind, as it does, immediately lept to a self-deprecating conclusion in the face of fear and uncertainty.

She had already felt guilty going out with her girls and not being a mom for the night. She felt even more guilty that, perhaps, the spa day plan was a subconscious way to dance around the elephant in the room.

The elephant in the room was that she and Rodney hadn't been having sex. Most couples would want to plan a romantic evening with the kids gone for the weekend. For Rodney and Priscilla, planning a romantic evening could prove awkward, putting more pressure on what used to be a joyous activity.

It's hard for Priscilla to get turned on without a connection. With Rodney always working, it's hard to build a meaningful spark.

Wash, rinse, repeat, for the last several months at least, and it's no wonder why their bedroom is so cold.

Of course, when I go on a stupid girl's night the worse would happen, Priscilla chided herself.

Though she was afraid, she was also tipsy enough to walk straight into the house. After a bit of exploring, Priscilla ended up in their master bedroom, which is where she stumbled upon Rodney in their king-size bed.

She was immediately relieved that their home hadn't been broken into. The garage door must have been a mistake on Rodney's part. Priscilla's relief dissolved into anger seeing Rodney's work clothes on the ground beside the bed.

He had seemingly dosed off naked after getting home from work. Rodney typically calls it a day at 6 p.m. Whenever it's a really tough day, he always strips down naked and passes out, asleep for hours.

She looked at the clock on Rodney's nightstand, a nautical-themed analog clock in the form of a captain's oar. Even with wine coursing her bloodstream, Priscilla saw that it was about 11:30 p.m.

"What the fuck, Rodney?" Priscilla said out loud, partially to him and partially speaking the thoughts in her mind out loud.

"Tell me you haven't been asleep like that all this time. And with the garage door wide open."

"The garage?" Rodney asked, incredulously, sitting up. It was at that moment he also realized that he was completely naked.

Shit, I must have fallen asleep and been out for a while, he thought.

Like a jolt of lightning, he suddenly remembered the woman in his dream. He had been pounding her like he owned her, letting out the stresses of the day into her body with his cock like she was a mate he had seduced in the wild.

The heat of that lightning jolt sprang to his penis, causing it to spring erect to attention. Rodney would never cheat on Priscilla.

But that forbidden fruit is what made the dream all the more erotic. For a guy who plays by the rules, keeps his head down, and works hard, getting some strange would feel like heaven on earth. He had no hesitation in giving it to the woman in his dream like a slut, since no strings were attached.

Little did he know that's exactly what Priscilla craved of him. The two have talked, they've shared, and they've gotten really close over the years. But somewhere along the line, they lost that animalistic spark. That undeniable dance of dominance and submission that keeps the flame glowing white hot.

Priscilla had built up a wall too high for Rodney to climb, to the point that they barely even kissed. It was all duty with some discussions about the boys and current events.

Very efficient. Not very sexy.

What Priscilla wanted was for Rodney to put her in her place. Rodney wanted to remember what it was like to dominate in the bedroom as much as he dominates his mission in life every single day.

In a haze of sleepiness, alcohol, stress, and pent-up emotions, Rodney and Priscilla unwittingly stepped into a moment of heat that only their bodies and souls could quench.

Seeing Rodney in the throws of passion air fucking the sheets was comical at first. But moments after, Priscilla felt familiar pangs of hurt.

Damn, he does have sexual energy and isn't just a workhorse. What if there's another woman?, she thought.

Fresh off the electric charge of his dream, Rodney felt invigorated and remembered who he was in a sense.

I work hard, come home, and don't cheat on Priscilla, even though women throw it at me everywhere I go, he thought to himself.

I deserve to enjoy every aspect of life. And I deserve a woman who gives all of herself to me.

"We could have been robbed, Rodney," Priscilla said to Rodney in sheer irritation.

"My fault. I fell asleep. Work has been crazy," Rodney said.

"Yeah, yeah. It's always crazy," Priscilla scoffed, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Rodney blinked at Priscilla incredulously. After snapping out of it, he stood to his feet and followed behind her.

"I do everything to keep food on this table for us. So, maybe look past this one," Rodney said.

"You're such a smart ass. There better not be another woman. I'm not playing with you," Priscilla spewed at Rodney.

Neither one of them was in the mood for the others' nonsense at the moment.

"Shut up," was all Rodney could muster.

"Don't tell me to shut up. And put your stupid dick away," Priscilla shot back.

Priscilla slapped his erection to the point that it was legitimately painful and made Rodney wince.

Blood ran from his dick all the way up his leg, like the kind of feeling of dull pain when you hit the edge of a table.

Priscilla stormed out of the room. Taken aback by her audacity, Rodney chased after her.

"That was uncalled for. You're a real brat," he said.

Priscilla turned around.

"You're right. Maybe I am a brat because my husband won't fuck me. So excuse me if I ask if there's another woman. You're lucky I'm a good eye reader and already know you're not cheating. You're married to your work anyway. Or at least you may as well be," she said.

Priscilla gave Rodney the finger and walked over to the staircase.

The blatant disregard and disrespect took Rodney's irritation to its peak.

"You need to show me some respect," he said.

"Make me," Priscilla shot back.

They stared at each other in a stalemate. The two locked eyes, neither of them breaking their glare. The anger, hurt, and stubbornness created the perfect erotic cocktail that strangely turned the two of them on more than ever.

Rodney grabbed Priscilla by the back of her neck, tightening his grip just below where her hair grew.

Priscilla gasped as a cold shiver ran through her body. Her knees grew weak with anticipation of being taken. She wanted nothing more than for Rodney to devour every part of her essence, leaving her no room for protest and leaving no part of her intact.

Feeling thunder in his loins, Rodney shoved Priscilla to her knees and stuffed her lips with his rock-hard dick.

Priscilla accepted her fate, placing the palm of her hands on the floor as her husband fucked her face without saying a word to her. It was like he was pulverizing the disrespect out of her mouth with his penis.

"Mmmm mmmm mmmm mmm," was all Priscilla was able to say between glugs and slurps.

Rodney's entire body glistened with sweat as he pumped away at Priscilla's mouth, turning her pretty face into a sucking cylinder. He loved the sight of his bride on all fours on the hardwood floors. Spools of Priscilla's hot saliva hit the floor while Rodney's balls knocked against her chin like chestnuts.

"Turn the fuck around," Rodney said, removing his penis from Priscilla's lips with a popping sound.

Priscilla shuddered in pre-orgasmic waves as tears streamed down her eyes from her husband's penis pounding her throat. She gasped for air as her heart beat out of her chest. Before she could collect herself, Rodney lifted Priscilla off of her feet, spun her around, and bent her over the iron banister.

The room spun as Priscilla looked down and saw the marble floors downstairs, seemingly 100 feet away. Rodney gripped a first full of Priscilla's hair, bent her over the railing, and ripped her pants and underwear down to her ankles.

"You're mine. Do you hear me?" Rodney asked.

He gripped a handful of his meat and spanked it against his wife's naked ass, waiting for her response.

"Yes, put me in my place, baby."

With those magic words, Rodney spanked her ass one more time with the palm of his hand and rammed her with his cock.

He thrust his hips and stroked his wife like crazy, giving her a combination of pleasure, pain, and fear. The iron of the railing dug hard into Priscilla's hip and pelvic bones as she stared down at the floor below.

She was getting fucked so hard that it felt almost like the railing could break. Priscilla held onto the railing for dear life, partially terrified, but not wanting him to stop.

Their passions overflowed until neither could take it any longer, and they were both on the brink of their climax. Fireworks reverberated through their bodies as they melted into orgasmic bliss in the wide opening clearing of their open stairwell. Rodney filled his bride with his white hot cum, and Priscilla, unable to move a muscle, accepted every drop as her warmth squeezed around his manhood, milking him dry.

They collapsed onto the floor in a sweaty heap, panting, huffing, neither saying a word -- both letting the volume of the moment speak for itself.

After what seemed like forever, Priscilla reached over for a miniature bottle of whiskey that had fallen out of her pocket while she was getting dominated.