S.H.E (Seduce, Hypnotise, Enslave) Ch. 04

Chapter 4: The Husband

I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. Last night had been fantastic. Everyone said sex was always the first thing to drop off when you settled down into the routine of marriage, but we had put that idea to bed, literally. Hannah, my lovely wife, was not only the most beautiful woman in the world--with her long, silky black hair, dazzling blue eyes, and of course her irresistible smile--but underneath the surface she was an animal in bed. Her lithe and supple body could manage just about any position, a fact she was happy to take advantage of, and I was happy to reap the rewards from.

After basking for some time in the memory of her luscious lips wrapped around my cock, I finally levered myself out of bed, and found Hannah in the kitchen, washing dishes. She noticed me entering, but kept her back to me.

"Honey..." she began.

My spine straightened, instinctively. "Is something wrong?" I tried.

"Well... last night was great, but I... I don't think I can do it again."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. "What?! Why not?"

"I think..." she stalled, then the words came out in a rush. "I think I'm losing my sex drive."

Fuck. No. This couldn't be happening. Right when I was gloating to myself about putting my fears of a sexless marriage to bed, I was staring down the barrel. I couldn't think of what to say, or how to say it. "...Are you sure?" I managed.

She just hung her head and nodded. "It's nothing you've done, it just sort of... happened. I'm not as easily aroused as I used to be."

I folded my arms around her protectively, lovingly. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Is there anything we can do to try and get it back?"

She fidgeted, breaking away from me to gather her thoughts. "Maybe. If I went to therapy or something like that, I could see how I felt."

"I'll support you every step of the way" I promised.

"Thanks" she murmured, resting her head against my shoulder.

A thought nagged at the back of my mind. I trusted my Hannah, of course, but this would be, well, sex therapy. I couldn't bear the thought of subjecting her to a man in that context. Who knew how many of them would be lecherous about it?

"I suppose," I said, "it might be best if you were to see a woman about your problem?"

Hannah thought about this for a while.

"Yes," she said, "I think so, too."

**********

It didn't take long for us to find someone. Not a dedicated sex therapist, but Hannah took particular note of the comments from women who said she'd improved their relationships out of sight. That was good enough for me. I wanted to come with her, since it was my sex life too, but the therapist--Stephanie, she said her name was--had insisted on seeing only my wife first.

On the day of the appointment, I'd just put the finishing touches on a presentation for an upcoming project, when Hannah called.

"Hi gorgeous!" I answered. "How was your appointment?"

"Hey honey" my wife answered. "I just got out of it. It was... interesting."

"Oh? Interesting how?"

"Erm," Hannah was apparently fumbling for the right words, "Dr. Stephanie wants me to... well, we're going to continue not having sex for a while."

I knew it would be foolish to expect instant results from just one appointment, but this was still not welcome news. "How long is a while?" I managed, trying not to let my frustration show. It wasn't her fault, after all.

"As long as it takes, she said" my wife replied simply.

I didn't want to sound like I was pleading, but the thought of being unable to touch my lovely wife for God knows how long was unbearable. "Is there anything we can do?"

There was a pause, then she said "I'm allowed to kiss you."

"If that's what the doctor ordered," I conceded.

We said our goodbyes, and I ruminated on this doctor's so-called treatment plan. Nothing beyond kissing? How long would that last? Weeks? Months? It was depressing just to think about. I stewed in this feeling for the rest of the day, until it was radiating off me like a heat shimmer. This was not a good state to go home to my wife in.

"Fuck this," I decided, "I need a drink."

None of my friends were available to hang, which wasn't too surprising. Fine by me. I wanted to be alone anyway, and this was what depressed husbands did when they were having marriage troubles, wasn't it?

I was halfway through my fourth bourbon when I realised that this might not have been the best idea.

"Hey there, handsome" a smooth, seductive voice purred in my left ear, "what are you doing out drinking all by yourself?

I turned to find a curly-haired blonde woman doing a very creditable Marilyn Monroe impersonation, updated for the modern day with an even redder shade of lipstick and even more cleavage. Incredibly large cleavage. I found myself briefly wondering if they were natural.

"Nuh-nothing" I slurred a little, "jus' not having a verrry good day."

"Poor thing" she cooed. "Bad day at the office?"

"Nah," I said, "bad day with the wife."

Her mouth opened into a neat little 'o' of shock. "Oh no! Is she mad at you?"

"Not really, jus' not looking forward to going home I guess" I replied.

"Empty bed?" she guessed.

"Might as well be" I grumbled.

She waited for me to finish my drink, then put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "A man like you doesn't deserve to be lonely, in a cold, empty bed" she coaxed softly. "Maybe I could keep you company instead."

I blinked, and for the first time, I really saw her. It took my brain a while to catch up, through the haze of misery and alcohol, but suddenly everything clicked. I knew exactly what she was here for, and I wanted no part of it. What kind of man would cheat on his wife? No man worthy of the name.

I had to get out, now. A cold, empty bed was better than this.

"I'm sorry" I blurted, standing up so fast that I knocked my glass to the side, "I think I should go. Home."

I thought I saw her pout as I turned around and stumbled out the door.

**********

My wife was nowhere to be seen when I finally got home, which suited me fine. Maybe I could get to bed without making more of a fool of myself. It's not like I was blackout drunk or anything, but I was exhausted and drained on top of being tipsy. I managed to brush my teeth and collapse into bed, where the alcohol took over. I was dizzy and tired, not in the mood to move for anything.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. Sleep was fitful and my dreams were unusually vivid. I knew I must have been dreaming because one minute my wife was not there with me, then I blinked, and she was there. I blinked again and suddenly she was kissing me with sexy, soft lips, telling me to relax and sleep for her. Her kisses made my head swim, just like the alcohol. Was I still drunk even in my dreams?

I briefly wondered if this actually was a dream, and if not, maybe I should be waking myself up and kissing her back properly, but as I tried to focus and pull myself out of the dream, Hannah's lips met mine again, and I found myself sort of... relaxing back into it. I got sleepier, and the dream got more vivid. Was that how it worked? It was too hard to think. Why would I be thinking anyway, when I could be having this wonderful sexy dream of kissing my wife? Relax. This is all just a dream. You don't want to wake up. Did Hannah just say that? It was true though... I didn't want to wake up...

My thoughts faded into a pleasant fog as Hannah kept kissing me. I knew it was a dream, because she kept whispering things into my ear. I couldn't quite catch it, but I knew she couldn't be talking and kissing at the same time. That proved it. Anything can happen in a dream. None of this was real. I could just relax and surrender. My brain would hear things my ears would forget. That made sense. Of course it did.

I just needed to forget about it and sleep for her lips.

Sleep for her lips.

Sle...

**********

Hello?

...

Dr. Stephanie, it's me.

...

I think I've managed it already.

...

He was already sleepy and clearly a bit drunk, so I just did what we talked about. I know it's sooner than you recommended-

...

The recording worked like a charm, I'm just not sure what to do next.

...

Okay, okay, I'll try it. I can do this.

...

Listen carefully to me now, Jacob.

...

**********

I dragged my worn-out body through the front door, and felt the oddest sense of deja vu. I'd gotten drunk last night hadn't I? Maybe this was the same sorry state I'd been in then. I must have had way more than I remembered, cause I'd certainly felt it this morning. Slept right through my alarm, and barely got myself to work on time. Battled a hangover the whole way.

Of course, reminding myself that I'd drunk myself into an apparent coma reminded me in turn of why I was out drinking last night at all. Hannah had gone to a shrink to see about her sex drive, and the shrink had recommended she stop having sex. What kind of sense did that make, I wondered to myself. I would very sorely like to meet this "Dr. Stephanie" and tell her exactly what I thought ... ah, but what was the point? That would only make things worse. I didn't want to upset Hannah.

I frowned, musing on my best course of action as I scrubbed harder.

Wait, what?

I looked down. I had wandered into the kitchen. I was holding a scrubbing brush. Apparently I'd been washing dishes on autopilot while I was lost in thought. Wasn't I too exhausted for this? I looked to the side of the sink, and saw that somehow, I was nearly finished, clean plates and pots stacked in neat rows along the draining board.

Somehow I felt... fine. It was like I could ignore how tired I was as long as I kept doing this. And since I could, I might as well keep going. Hannah would certainly be pleased, and it was important to please my wife.

The dishes were quickly done, and riding that wave of energy, I actually managed to vacuum the whole living room before my legs finally gave out. I packed everything away and collapsed into bed, completely drained. I wondered vaguely when my wife would be home. What did she have planned for today? Did she have a reason to go out?

Time floated past as I dozed. It was half an hour, maybe an hour later, when I heard the front door close. That must be Hannah.

"Jacob?" she called.

"Ummhere" I groaned, tiredly.

I heard her moving around the house, but not coming into the bedroom. I got the feeling that my earlier work was being judged.

Eventually she appeared in the doorway, beaming radiantly.

"That's much, much better Jacob," she purred, "see how much of an improvement that is?"

What did she mean by that? The house was a lot cleaner than before, but... well that was obvious, wasn't it?

"Hurngh," I grunted intelligently as I tried to prop myself up on my elbow, "I guess. Just don't expect this every day, I've already worn myself out."

"Well," she grinned, a mischievous gleam in her eye, "Dr. Stephanie did say we could kiss, and you've definitely earned it."

I wasn't really in a state to properly enjoy my wife's kisses, but I was hardly going to say no. I let her push me onto my back again as she straddled me, and I was thankful that we were both wearing clothes.

"And honey," she shifted around a bit on top of me.

"I know, I know," I held up my hands wearily, "no sex."

"Well, yes, that," she bit her lip, "but um, I also understand if you're tired and want to just fall asleep like this."

That seemed like an odd thing to say. What kind of man would fall asleep while kissing his wife? It'd be impossible to ignore, for one thing. But I couldn't articulate that in my tired state, so I just gave a slight shrug and said "Yeah, sure, thanks honey."

Her soft lips touched mine.

**********

Days passed slowly, and hazily. One thing I could say was that I was full of energy at the start of every day, now, at least. Every day I went to work, came home, and before kicking my feet up, I would vacuum, or wash dishes, or clean the bathroom, or some other chore that needed doing. It was important for me to please Hannah before anything else, after all. This wore me out at first, and I could do nothing except have dinner and collapse into bed afterwards. Over time, however, it was like I got used to the routine, pushing myself to get everything done that needed doing. To be worthy of Hannah. At night, Hannah would reward me for my efforts by kissing me to sleep, and I would wake up the next morning, refreshed and ready to do it all again.

Maybe, I thought, I could start having sex with her again if I pleased her enough.

And yet, my frustration at my lack of sexual release continued to mount. One day, I decided I'd had enough. It wasn't ideal, especially as a married man, but I'd have to take care of the problem myself. I'd never searched for porn--not since I met Hannah, anyway--but I had a decent idea of what kinds I would like. Didn't every man? As soon as I'd finished the day's chores, I sat down and started searching, a world of debauchery opening up before me. A feast for my eyes, and my poor, neglected dick. I hadn't even chosen something to watch, but I was already pumping myself with one hand.

But somehow, it just wasn't working for me. No matter how hard I stroked, no matter how sexy the models in the videos were, I just couldn't get myself off to it. I knew it wasn't real, that the point was to fantasise, but there was something missing.

Only my wife was enough to make me cum. Yeah, that was probably it. Nothing could compare to my wife.

Unfortunately, Hannah chose that moment to make her presence known, and she found me, still in front of my computer playing the hottest teacher/student porn I could find, with my pants around my ankles and one hand on my cock.

She froze. I froze.

"I, uh-" I stammered. I knew there was no real excuse for this.

"It's alright" she said matter-of-factly. "I should have expected something like this would happen eventually."

"But I-"

She turned to leave. "Get yourself cleaned up and wait for me in the bedroom," she ordered, "I need to have a talk with Dr. Stephanie. I'll join you when I'm done."

I did so, embarrassed as hell. Hannah didn't seem overly upset, but you just can't tell with women sometimes. Not even when she's your wife. It was tempting to snoop on her conversation with Dr. Stephanie, but I didn't want to upset my wife. At least, not any more than I had done already. I waited in the bedroom for what seemed like ages. How long would this phone call take? What were they saying about me? I didn't want to think about it.

Eventually Hannah reappeared, slipping quietly into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

"First of all, I'm not mad" she said softly. "Dr. Stephanie says you need permi-, er, you need to work out your urges from time to time. You could have been a little more discreet about it, but no matter."

I sighed, practically deflating onto the bed as the built-up tension left me. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that" I admitted.

"Good..." she mused, a small smirk gracing the corners of her lips.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked.

"Lie back." she instructed. "Keep your head propped up."

I did so, curious what she had in mind.

"I will not touch you" she said, firmly. "But you can get yourself off while looking at me."

"Um..." I wanted to protest at this, but couldn't think of any good reason to.

She raised an eyebrow. "If you can get off to porn, surely you can get off thinking of your own wife?" she challenged me.

"Yes, yes, of course!" I replied, hastily unbuckling my pants again and slipping them off. I exposed my cock to her for the first time in what felt like forever, and she raised an eyebrow again, noting how red it was right now. Maybe I was a bit too rough earlier.

Wordlessly, she slipped out of her clothes, and she was naked in front of me. Again, it had been far too long. I suddenly realised that I could live with this arrangement, for now. I wasn't lying about her being better than porn. Instinctively, I reached down and started stroking myself again.

"Sooo," she purred, running her hands all over her body, "was porn anything like you hoped it would be?"

I was having trouble thinking. My cock might have been sore, but it was coming back to life very quickly. At this rate I wouldn't last long. "Uh," I grunted, "not even close."

She placed one foot on the bed, parting her thighs just enough that I could see her delicious pussy. Had I ever thought of it as 'delicious' before? It was hard to care right now.

"Were those girls as sexy as I am?" she pressed on.

"No, nowhere near." She may have only been talking dirty, but for some reason it was driving me crazy. I wasn't far away.

"Only I am sexy enough to make you cum" she said, bouncing her tits enticingly in front of my face.

"Only you are sexy enough to make me cum" I repeated.

"Use both hands" she instructed.

I wrapped my other hand around my cock. I'd rarely done it like this before, but it was what Hannah wanted, so how could I refuse? The thought that my body was effectively immobilised in this position, unable to move except for jerking off, was submerged under my urgent, all-consuming need to cum.

Seeing that I couldn't move, and that my head was at an awkward angle to keep looking at her without a hand to prop myself up, Hannah switched tactics. She abandoned the posing altogether and crawled up onto the bed beside me. She was still completely naked, but I couldn't touch her. She'd told me to use both hands.

"Close your eyes" she whispered seductively in my ear, "and imagine your hands are my warm, wet pussy. Imagine sliding your cock into my pussy with every stroke."

I groaned loudly, trying to signal without words that I was close. Too close.

"I know, darling, you want to cum soooo badly" Hannah cooed. "But you can't, you mustn't, until I say so. Understand?"

I nodded, eager to please her so she would give me permission.

She trailed her tongue over my ear, drawing a pleading whimper from me, as she whispered "Feel my pussy squeezing your cock, just the way I know you like."

I felt it, God help me, somehow I felt it. It was as if she really was riding my cock at that moment. I'd completely forgotten that it was my hands, or that it was supposedly a completely voluntary action on my part. "Oh God Hannah, please," I babbled, "please let me cum!"

Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw her bite her lip thoughtfully as she observed my current state. "Hmmm," she mused, "so you're unable to cum until I say so, but you're also unable to hold back, just from thinking about my pussy. It looks like you're completely helpless." She raised herself up so that I could see all of her again, and she jiggled her tits in front of my eyes again.

"You can't control yourself" she said.

"Uhuh!"

"You are helplessly aroused by me."

"Uhuh!"

"My tits and my pussy are controlling your cock."

"Yes," I said, "yes, yes, please-"

She cradled my head in her hands and kissed me with her soft lips.

"Cum for me" she commanded.

I groaned, utterly spellbound, my legs thrashing against the bed as I came violently, mindlessly, helplessly. I could feel my own sperm pooling in places on my torso, but I didn't care about anything but the pleasure, as the tension of weeks of no sex was finally released.

As I lay there, dazed and completely drained, I heard her whisper "Sleep for my lips."

...

I blinked. Had I fallen asleep? Hannah was still looking down at me with a sly smile on her face.

"Was that good for you?" she teased. "Get yourself cleaned up. The bedclothes will need washing tomorrow, too."