Rekindling Marriage

Mario was looking at his worn out face in the mirror of his recently renovated bathroom. The spot light was merciless in showing him the aging of his spirit, broken to some extent, it had become almost lazy.

He had a relative good night sleep, but a good physical rest wasn't given him enthusiasm. His wife of 15 years was getting some coffee ready for a liquid breakfast. He could hear her in the kitchen, smashing pots and slamming cabinet doors. The sounds of marriage in the morning were not that appealing anymore. He remember the beginnings, when mornings could have the surprise of sensual and hungry sex, preparing breakfast together, running late for work but with a smile on their faces. The last 5 years had been boring, too settled, too focused on paying mortgage. Having kids was something they had given up on. Not enough time as it was, and the money they made was supposed to take them to exotic holidays. There was nothing exotic about their marriage anyway, so the places didn't matter either. Mario's favourite place was inside his head, his mind wondering, his fantasies about having passionate sex with a co worker, or the shop assistant at the supermarket, or the female bus driver. Really, any female willing enough to smile at him would do the trick, a natural slut who would enjoy his cock endlessly.

He got dressed and joined his wife in the kitchen. She was all over the place, as usual, tight face, her shoulders crunched to her neck. He helped himself to coffee. She began the complaints without even greeting him. First it was about the hard day that was awaiting her at the agency, then the reminder again that some bills were due for payment. What Mario hated the most was not that she mentioned those daily obligations, but that she would elaborate on her frustration. Her complaints usually turned personal and into attacks. To Mario, it felt like she complained about other things just as a warming up before targeting him. Celia started usually with his lack of tidiness, then his lack of consideration, his disrespect for her mother when she was visiting, his lack of initiative, his bad eating habits, his snoring, his toilet manners, the list was endless. Mario did his best every time Celia's mother came to visit, which it was often and unannounced. If he knew she was coming, or that she would be sitting in the living room when he got home, at least he could have adjusted his mind to the idea of spending the evening with Celia AND her mother. But it was all too abrupt, the punch and the surprise.

He listened, as usual, saying nothing. His silence reinforced Celia's idea that her husband had no back bone, a doormat that she could walk all over. Mario didn't know if Celia ever remembered their first years together, as he did. The passion and the sex had been great, but they reached a point of routine and repetition that could have only been overcome by mutually agreed explorations. Of course, exploration didn't happen, and the routine became a sedative to their libido, or so he thought. Mario still experienced hardons when looking at women. Not only by looking and visually touching their bodies, but imagining how he would undress them, sometimes violently, sometimes by seducing their minds and prompting them to surrender to his demands. And by now, his demands made a very long list of unsatisfied sexual indulgences. But Mario didn't have the courage to even try picking up a woman. It was not about being faithful anymore, as much as it was about feeling powerless. So masturbation was his technique. Sometimes he would start massaging his cock while in bed, next to Celia, waiting for her to fall asleep. Quietly and very slowly, he rubbed till his cock was hard and dripping. He would play with his head, his rim, patting with his fingers, while his hand pretended to be a wet vagina engulfing his manhood.

At work he was the boss, assertive and in control. He was a trouble shooter, very much climbing the corporate ladder with the enthusiasm that he lacked in his personal life. He thought that his boring and discouraging marriage gave him, somehow, the fuel to achieve and win in his profession. That day he faced a couple of challenges at work with some hostile parties. He came on top, decisively, with no hesitation. That made him feel so good, and the compliments from his subordinates and peers got to his head, literally. One of his managers praised him sincerely for his performance. He said to Mario that it seemed nothing could stop him from achieving his goals, and he could only imagine how popular Mario could be with the ladies. That comment, about his personal life rather than his professional one, put a sad smile on Mario's face, but made him think, hard and long. Then his cock followed his mind. His mind and his cock became both angry. Angry at his marriage, at his whinging wife, at his mother in law, but mostly, angry with himself.

That evening he arrived home with an energy that had become foreign to him. He was still pumped up by his day at the office; his libido was wild as his professional performance. Suddenly he felt integrated as a man. He so much wanted to hold on to that feeling!

His wife saw him rushing to the living room to fix himself a glass of whiskey. And then she started, criticising him for drinking before dinner, then she continued with complains about her mother calling her and how he would have to go to fix her lawn mower on Saturday instead of playing golf. She kept on going about how the bitches at work gave her a hard time, and that she wished she didn't have to work for a while.

Mario was getting tired of her wife's background noise, and headed to the bedroom, intending to get undressed and cool himself down with a long shower.

Celia followed him, relentlessly like a chatter box of negativity and put downs.

Mario's head was spinning, but not too much to blind him from what he was about to say:

'Enough! I have had enough! You are a domineering unpleasant piece of work! Do you know what you need? I do. I know what you need is a good relentless fuck. One that comes to you without your permission or comments!"

Celia was taken by his outburst: "What? You moron..."

Mario kept screaming at her, his face turning red, overpowering his wife's attempt to shut him down.

"A good hard and deep fuck, that's what you need. If I fuck you against your will, you bitch, you will accuse me of raping you. And though fucking you would not be a sexual violation as much as it would be your cock therapy, I won't take the chances with a bitter bitch like you."

Celia tried to be heard

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Talking to me like that? Who do you think you are?"

Mario was hearing her, but he wasn't listening to her. Listening to her had proven useless and self defeating. Instead, he followed his instincts, his desires, his need for correcting his marriage dynamic. His needs to become his own master.

"I can't fuck you hard unless you are in the mood too. But I surely don't need your permission to teach you some good manners. As much as a fuck, you need a good spank in your round arse. I don't need your permission for that, do I?"

He was screaming while walking towards her. She was backing off but not as fast as he was approaching her. His motions were fuelled by long time rage and frustration. Hers were surprise and confusion.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. When her body was against his, he pinched her arse and ask her:

"Are you ready to be disciplined? Are you ready to be satisfied? Do you want to have a real reason for crying and complaining? I am going to take care of that"

Without pause, or waiting for her response, he backed towards the bed, sat on the edge and pull Celia's body over his knees, tugging her forward. She struggled, trying to free herself, but his arm was firmly pushing her down to his knees, across her back. His free hand rose. His hand was wide open, his fingers separated, knowing that he wanted to cover most of her arse. He let his hand fall hard on her arse. She trembled and screamed.

"Stop it you idiot, what are you doing???"

Mario was just beginning to find his rhythm.

"I am doing you, the way you need to be done for now."

His hand rose again, and fell hard again on her arse. She screamed again, but before she could insult him, Mario's hand was raising and falling faster, once, twice, five times hitting her arse, slapping her cheeks, making them bounce. Celia was twisting her body under Mario's firm hold. Her hips trying to avoid the slaps were providing Mario with a view he was beginning to enjoy beyond his intentions. His cock was getting hard. He accommodated his body to allow his cock to expand. Celia felt his hardon on her tummy. She called him psycho. He spanked her harder and faster. She cried and, suddenly, Mario heard a word he didn't know his wife knew. Celia started to beg him. Not an order, but she was begging him to stop. Celia began to feel overpowered to the point of being dominated.

Her pleads didn't lessen Mario's intention. In fact, Celia's begging only made him spanking harder and faster. Then, he stopped, listened to Celia's cries for a few seconds. Celia was still wearing her office clothes. The conservative white blouse and black skirt. She had only got rid of her shoes by then. Mario slid his hand under the skirt and began to lift it, slowly, till it was unevenly rolled up on her waist. Celia thought she was going mad, that her whole world was going mad. Not only her dull husband had taken this radical handling of her, but now she was seeing colours surrounding her, and the awareness was centred on her own arse, burning with life. She heard her own cries like in the background, while her husband's voice began to be the only thing that matter to her. Well, his voice and his hands.

Mario wasn't talking much; his hand was doing all the talk. He meant business, and Celia knew it, felt it. She could almost see her red butt. None of Celia's supplications were distracting Mario from spanking her arse. So far, the only noises that Mario was producing were the smacking sounds. His silence seemed to reinforce the punishment. He only spoke a couple of times, firmly while letting his hand hit her left cheek, to command her to be quiet and shut the fuck up, for once in her life.

Celia was crying and moaning at the same time, confusing Mario, who thought that she was enjoying his punishment. He wished Celia's mother entered the bedroom and saw him disciplining her daughter. Then the punishment would also be humiliation. A payback for all the times Celia had humiliated him in front of her mother. But here he was, now pausing to lift her skirt and pull her undies in between her cheeks, exposing her red cheeks. Her bare bottom had gone from her usual pale pink to furious red, it was round and plump. She had slowed down her wriggling. She wasn't struggling or squirming. He then started caressing the red cheeks and with a soft but very authoritarian voice he started talking again.

"You know why I'm spanking you, don't you? You need to understand some new rules"

Celia's voice had become more submissive

"I don't know what you are talking about, have you gone mad?"

Mario spanked her again, and after having her arse softened by his caressing, Celia felt these two slaps as new, different, almost welcomed.

"Ok, Ok, what rules? What is there to understand?" she pledged

Mario was ready to state and enforce his rules:

"From now on, your mother will only come if we invite her. You are to tell her this, no more surprise visits, agreed?"

"Is that all?" Celia replied in surprise

Mario didn't repeat the demand, instead he smacked her again, after rearranging her panties between her arse crack.

"Ok Ok, Agreed", Celia shouted

Mario ordered Celia to repeat his demand, out loud. In shaky fashion, hesitantly she repeated the demand:

"I will tell my mother not to ever visit us unless we invite her first"

Mario smiled,.

"Good', lets close this one deal" and his hand fell hard on her left cheek. This time his hand wasn't wide opened, instead, he joined three fingers tightly and used them as a whip. Celia noticed the new sensations; new colours appeared in front of her eyes. Her hands and feet were in the air, and as her body settled down across her husband's knees, she could feel Mario's cock growing against her thigh. He was pinning her down firmly, any resistance was proving useless, but she wasn't giving up altogether.

Mario had few demands.

"From now on, you will welcome my mates to our house and be nice to them. Agreed?"

Celia was trying to exchange some power of her own:

"Not all of them!"

Mario's fingers whipped her again, once on each cheek, and Celia felt pain

"Ok, Ok, I agree, I will be nice to your friends when they come here"

Mario repeated the ritual.

"Good, lets close this one deal" and his hand fell hard on her right cheek. Celia's body shook and she had to control the shaking by holding on to the hanging quilt from the bed.

Just one more demand for now, Mario thought while lowering his head towards Celia's, in an intimidating approach

"From now on, you are going to work on your lukewarm sexual desires instead of calling me over demanding. I want some gratification from you, to start with, but expect to see my wife as my private whore sooner than later. Agreed?"

Celia was beginning to feel aroused by her husband's trashing words, as if a hidden Celia was emerging, hungry to meet the monster that was calling her up. She knew the ritual, to repeat her husband's demand.

"I will let you use me for your sexual gratification, even if it means to become your wife slut."

Mario's cock grew longer and fatter by just hearing his wife using the word slut

"Good!. Lets close this one deal then" This time Celia's right cheek was the recipient of Mario's three in one finger. Her pussy was sizzling now

Mario couldn't think of more demands. In his own frenzy, his mind was also spinning and his hand was hurting, red as Celia's arse. He exhaled with a sense of relief and achievement. He felt and saw her across his knees, undone and exposed, and he knew he had scored a huge victory. Celia twisted her head to have a look at Mario. His slaps had stopped and he was not giving her more demands.

"Are you done with me now?" she asked submissively

He rubbed her cheeks, squeezing them as if he were testing ripped tomatoes, smiling with satisfaction.

"I'm done for now" he replied, implying that the session might have ended, but the disciplinary measures would continue and repeat.

"I will see how you fulfil my demands. You better remember what you just agreed to, or else" he whispered firmly, with authority of someone who knows he had earned respect.

Celia realised that this was it, and she also realised that she didn't want it to end.

"Or else? Do you mean you would do this to me again, would you spank me again?"

Mario smiled looking ahead, day dreaming, still rubbing her hot cheeks

"I will spank your arse again, probably harder, maybe while your mother is here. I will grab you to the bathroom, sit on the toilet and cross you over my knees again to spank you with your hair brush. If you scream your mother will come to see what's happening. I promise you I won't stop unless I decide to drag your mother to the front door, spanking her as well while she is dragged out of the house".

Mario was done, he thought. His fingers run between Celia's cheeks to pull her panties from between them. He felt a heat coming from below her arse. Two of his fingers kept running down till they met a wetness coming out from Celia's hole. Celia lifted her legs, tightening her arse and her pussy flaps. Mario was aroused in a way he had long forgot he could. His cock was bursting inside his pants. He realised that he was still restraining Celia and decided to explore now. His finger went all the way down to her hole, down in between her flaps, opening them with his other fingers. Her pussy was irradiating heat, sizzling, slippery with her own juices. Celia's body curved, she felt his fingers teasing her hole, till they finally found her clit. She knew her clit was enlarged, poking out, and when Mario circled it with her own moist, she started moaning louder with his intimate touching.

Mario firmed his position on the edge of the bed, and proceeded to push her legs apart, digging his fingers into her inner thigh. He found no resistance. Celia opened her legs wider than he intended them to be. With her pussy easy to be accessed, Mario grabbed her flaps together with his open hand, letting go and softly slapping her cunt. Celia moaned.

"Please touch me more"

But Mario stopped, lifted Celia up from his knees, pushing her away from him. He stood up and began to walk towards the bedroom door.

Celia stood there, her skirt rolled up to her waist, dizzy, almost unable to walk

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to fuck me now?"

Mario looked at her with a grin on his face

"No, I don't feel like fucking you. I am used to satisfy myself, and that's what I intend to do."

Celia's face showed her desperation and neediness

"Please! I'll agree to more demands, come back and fuck me."

He was about to leave the bedroom, walking with the difficulty of having a huge hardon between his legs, when he instead turned around and looked at her with a winner smile on his face:

"In second thoughts, maybe you can satisfy me for a change".

He walked back to the middle of the bedroom and stripped himself. His cock was erected against his pelvis. He was hard as hell on stick. His shaft was engrossed with hot blood and pumping cum.

He ordered her to strip as well, slowly, he wanted to see her tits, one at the time.

Celia got rid of her skirt, and her panties in a hurry. Her face was showing a mixture of fear and anticipation. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, removed it and began to rid of her bra. He reminded her: slowly, one tit at the time...

She undid her bra and let the right cup drop first. Her right tit dropped as well, showing a big tit with a no so relaxed areola, brown with a huge button in the middle. Then she left the left cup drop exposing her left tit. All the time, Celia's eyes were looking at Mario's hardon. She always insisted on turning the light off while making love. Now she was totally naked, exposing her hanging bits and fascinated with this huge cock her husband was displaying so confidently, proudly.

Mario walked towards her, slapped her hanging breasts making her nipples get harder.

He threw himself on the bed, lying on his back, called her to join him. When he reached the bed he grabbed her wrist again and twisted her around:

"Come on, lets try a new version of sixty nine! Get on top of me, get me between your legs with your pussy wide open over my face. You are going to be my slut".

Celia spread her legs open over him. Her face was over the huge cock, almost afraid of the task ahead, but wanting to enjoy the feeling of a manhood she didn't know her husband could offer to her.

Mario's hard cock was shining with precums

"Come on, get your mouth around my cock. Lift your arse, I want to see your wet cunt almost sitting on my face".

The idea of choking with his cock aroused Celia. She started licking his cock's head, circling her tongue around his rim, holding his shaft with her hand. Mario pushed his hips and forced his cock in her mouth. Celia's hands held on around his hips while she began to suck, moving her head up and down, her mouth like a vacuum, like a wet and hot vagina engulfing his cock. Her tits were bouncing against Mario's legs, erecting her nipples, her tits' areolas shrinking into bigger brown buttons.

Mario screamed with pleasure, he couldn't remember the last time his wife was giving him head.