Silent Submission

And so I stood there, completely naked, with tear-stained cheeks and eyes still swollen from crying, my ass burning with pain and no doubt bright red and covered with welts from my caning -- and my cock twitching as it squirted my cum onto the towel below, my dominant wife watching in amusement. "Ok, you can clean up now," Sarah said, smiling at me and looking in my eyes for the first time since my spanking began.

"Put your paddle and cane away where you can find them again, put the stool back and the towel in the laundry. Then go lay down on the bed for a rest," she went on.

I bent over slowly and picked up the towel, draping it around my neck. I carried the stool and the instruments of my torture back to the bedroom.

I took time in the bed room to examine the damage done to my still aching and burning backside. The sight frightened me. My ass was a fiery red, with the long, thin marks of the cane making parallel lines across, both high and low. Purplish welts raised up all around. It would take a while to heal -- even a while until I would be able to sit comfortably, I figured.

The ordeal had exhausted me, and Sarah was quite right that I should lay down to rest. I stretched out on the bed on my stomach. Momentarily, Sarah came in.

"Oh, you poor dear," she said, eyeing my sore ass. "You really did take a hard caning."

She said it as if she had nothing to do with it and it was something that just happened to me, like a fall.

She held a tube of some sort of ointment in her hand. She squeezed a little in her right hand, then put the tube down. With her lovely left hand gently caressing my back, she started to rub the cool cream on my wounds with her right hand. Her touch on those sensitive spots made me jump, and it did hurt to have her touch me there, but at the same time the cream and her touch had a soothing effect.

"This will make you feel better and keep you from getting any nasty infections," she said, now sounding like a mother taking care of a hurt child.

My emotions were hard to describe, and hard to accept. I deeply appreciated her loving touch, her concern and sympathy. I wanted to cling to her to be taken care of and comforted in this difficult and confusing ordeal.

Yet I knew all along that she was the cause of all of my pain and humiliation. I felt so much love for her as she comforted me but had a hard time reconciling that with the image of her looking amused as I, still in great pain, stood with my hands at my side and my cock erupting semen while she watched.

I recalled a story I heard about the terrible Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin. He was said to have brought a live chicken into a meeting with his top staff, and announced a demonstration on how to treat the Russian people. He then began to pluck handfuls of feathers from the live bird until it was naked and bloodied. He then threw the tortured bird on the floor at his feet, with a few kernels of corn. It huddled close to his black boots as if seeking comfort and protection.

"It's going to be OK. You did great," Sarah said. "Now you rest for a while, then come out to see me. Don't get dressed yet. Just think about anything you might want to say to me, then come out."

She left me there to process it all.

I still didn't know why I submitted. All those thoughts of how to play the situation to avoid confrontation about my secrets or talks about our relationship seemed now in hindsight as ways to avoid the deeper issue going on inside of me. Her demand that I present myself for a caning by an instrument of my own making was a demand that I submit to her, and I couldn't hide behind any temporary desire to avoid the discomfort of a conversation I didn't want to have.

I suspected that deep down all along I realized the choice was to submit or not and I just had to decide what role I wanted.

Still, why did she do it? Did she see what stories I read and figure I had a deep desire to be a submissive, so she fed that desire, or found it played into her desire to dominate? Or did she just feel her own desire to dominate and just demanded that I submit, and had I not the marriage would be over?

On the other hand. . .

I drifted off to sleep rolling it over in my mind, but not thinking for a minute about what I wanted to say to her.

I awoke about 90 minutes later and took about 10 more to clear the sleep from my eyes and stretch a bit. My butt felt better, but still sore, as it would be for days.

I didn't think about the situation, or what to do next, though I knew it was some kind of decision time.

I walked out to the living room and found Sarah sitting on the couch watching TV. She looked up at me with an inquisitive expression.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better," I said, then added, without thinking and for reasons I didn't understand, "Sarah, I'm sorry. And thanks for caning me."

"Come here," she smiled.

She pulled me down next to her.

Sarah was leaning partly against the arm of the couch and partly against the back, with her legs stretched out in front of her along the length of the long couch. She made room for me, still nude, on the edge and had me lean back against her shoulder. She put her right arm around me and held me close, then merely changed the subject.

She was watching a Comedy Central show, some stand-up comic, and started telling me about him and laughing. Soon we were watching TV together and were closer than we had been in years.

I ignored my sore ass, especially when, late in the comedy show, she reached down and started fiddling with my balls. She would rub my thigh, then play around with my balls or semi-hard cock, laugh along with the show, and gently caress my chest, brushing my nipples with her fingertips. Soon, I had a full erection that she made sure I maintained with her ministrations.

I started to look forward to getting to bed. The day had been confusing and painful, but arousing. I had images of an impassioned lovemaking session, fed by the kinky foreplay that had been going on all day.

But I was still imagining the old ways.

When the show wrapped up, Sarah sighed, " Well, it's getting late."

She killed the TV with the remote, then guided me up. She turned off the lamp, then grabbed my cock with her right hand.

"Come on, big guy," she said.

She started marching toward the bedroom ahead of me, still grasping my cock, leading me by it.

Without letting go in the bedroom she threw the covers on the bed back, then pushed me down toward the bed.

"On your back, big guy," she said.

Lying on my back on my sore ass wasn't my preferred position, but I complied.

I was amazed when my wife started to strip.

As I said, I had grown to resent her physical bashfulness through our marriage. For her to strip in front of me with the lights on was practically unheard of.

Yet she quickly peeled off her sweatshirt and unsnapped her bra. Those bountiful breasts bounced freely. Her nipples were already erect, and I cherished the rare sight.

It took her only seconds to unsnap and peel off her jeans, then her thong, leaving her nude, with that bright red bush beckoning to me. It would come to me soon enough.

Sarah jumped over me onto the bed.

After all the pain, it felt heavenly to have her warm, voluptuous body snuggle up next to me. Her breasts pressed into my side, her left leg curled up over my outstretched legs, then she stretched that leg out and rubber her lovely foot against my feet.

As her hand ran down my chest and belly until her fingers closed around my cock, she kissed me below my ear and bit the lobe lightly.

"You looked so sexy bent over that stool," she breathed heavily. "And you looked even sexier with your ass bright red!"

She crawled on top of me, still holding my now engorged cock. I was desperate for some pleasure to contrast all the pain and confusion that had taken place throughout the day.

Sarah rubbed her body up and down over mine. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck and ears, which she always loved.

She moved down a little, then guided my cock in to her hot and moist hole.

Sarah sat up and started to ride me.

I reached up and fondled those beautiful, big and pale breasts, but Sarah quickly took my hands, leaned forward, and pinned my arms down by my head as she continued to move back and forth, working my cock in and out of her.

"Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh!" she panted, working at a furious pace.

I realized that I was being held down and fucked. My ass still burned, rubbing against the sheets below me, but that discomfort was mild compared to the pleasure pulsing through my loins and I built toward a climax I felt would come from deep within me.

But suddenly she stopped.

In an instant she climbed up my body, placing her knees on my arms where her hands had held them tight before. With her hands now free, she pulled the lips of her sex apart the thrust her dripping cunt onto my mouth.

"Go for it, big guy," she said. "You know what to do. Get going!"

I plunged my tongue as deeply into her as I could, licked around her opening and pulled on her inner lips with my lips. I could not reach her clit, though. She leaned back, keeping that prize from me and her opening over my mouth. She rubbed her clit furiously with her fingers and I felt her sex getting hotter and hotter.

Her juices flowed freely, across my tongue and down into my throat.

She gushed when she came, and I swallowed, both as a defensive move to keep from downing in her cum, and because I savored the taste, and the erotic power of her essence.

She panted hard, and cried out, then pulled herself off my face, freeing my arms, and sliding down to lie next to me.

Mercifully, she grabbed by cock, and with a few short strokes had me erupting all over myself.

I could not see it; my eyes were closed. But I felt that same half-amused smile I saw when I last came, when my ass was so freshly burning.

"Good boy," she whispered. "Now go and clean up and turn out the light for me please," she said.

I did as I was told, as I had done all day, and perhaps in many more days to come.