Slave Wife

Even at a young age you can tell something's seriously fucked with your head. Especially when something freaky happens and you willfully choose not to do anything about it. Then, a decade later, you wonder where the trajectory of that very moment took you. For me, that moment came at 18, when I was hanging out at my boyfriend's watching a movie.

We were sitting on the floor under the watchful eye of his stern disciplinarian uncle Ray sitting in a recliner behind us, next to his wife. My boyfriend was in front of me and I side-sat between him and his uncle, all of us forming a lazy half circle so no one's view was obstructed. In the middle of the movie, his uncle's bare foot made contact with my leg.

It felt like what I thought an electric prod would feel. Immediately, I wanted to cry. It was an unwelcome touch and it brought up all the unpracticed emotions you'd think it would. Betrayal, apprehension. He was a mean man, a scary man. My heart beat fast and I felt that deep fear.

His wife also sat in a recliner next to his, but she said nothing. And I didn't want to make a scene, so I waited for her to.

And yet I didn't do anything to move away. I just sat there quietly and watched the movie and knew that touch wasn't an accident. Pretending it didn't happen seemed like the best way to handle it, but it felt wrong, it felt I was doing something wrong. The foot was a question and me not moving away was an intentional answer.

Uncle Ray talked throughout the movie, grousing about everything. How women portrayed in it helped deteriorate norms. How back in his day all women wore skirts. How all decent women he remembered wore pantyhose, like his wife. Subtly, saying how men were in charge. His foot never moved, just kept constant contact with my leg.

Him saying 'pantyhose' several times wasn't an accident either, I just knew that. He was telling me something subtly. His foot swept up and down my leg just a little, reminding me it was there. It wasn't an accident. He touched me on purpose, it was a fondle now. My silence answered for me.

He brought the pantyhose up several times predictably and that's when I knew I was fucked because I paid more attention to his talking than the movie, my mind greatly disturbed by his inappropriate foot, my situation an unrecognizable kind of a turn on where I felt cornered and knew I could do nothing about it. He pressed and I didn't defend myself.

His foot touching me was a demonstration of his power over me, because in the moment I didn't muster enough will power to make a protest. Longer it went on, I felt more intensely cornered. Once, I looked back behind me to see whether this was just an absent-minded mistake, and both him and his wife stared into my eyes expressionlessly.

She saw. She knew he was doing it. Her not telling him to stop scared me even more and I went back to watching the movie, keeping quiet. This was terrifying. He held power over his household, an older man usurping his nephew's relationship, taking what he wanted. Humiliating his wife, who just stared and quietly let it happen.

The feeling of being caught up in this was intoxicating and to my trembling surprise, I wanted to hear everything he wanted to say, the touching had my full attention. His repetitive comments were predictable and I felt a great yearning to want to predict what he'd say and to be as meek and obedient as his wife. It surprised me at how much I wanted it.

As he'd start a tirade about what women in pantyhose did, I held my breath until a magic word came and released me from his spell. The anticipation I felt listening to him talk was unhinged-level crazy, I had no idea why I was doing it but I waited for the moment he said the word and each time shame hit me for wearing jeans and an urgent breath I allowed myself burned a reward into my memory for guessing correctly when he'd say it. Me, the younger delectable dessert who he could take if he wanted. The submissive one who didn't know she was.

He sent his wife to bed since she had to go to work early and my heart beat faster when he did. But then the movie ended too soon and I felt crushing shame when it was time for me to go home.

Few days later I was driving late to school and I felt like crying because it wasn't my fault that I was running late but it was my third tardy that year and I'd get written up for it, and it just then hit me that it'd be better if I just pretended to be sick and skipped a day because the consequences of that were lesser. Those incentives were just badly designed.

But instead of turning around and driving home I kept driving forward aimlessly, that is until I saw a pharmacy. I parked far away from the entrance because I wasn't in any hurry and walked in and bought pantyhose with my lunch money. Dark brown, I'll never forget the color. This I soon wore under my jeans and nothing else, my panties and bra tossed in the back seat.

Then I drove to Ray's.

The whole time I felt fear, I was shaking.

Ten minutes of waiting in my parked car with my brain shut off, unsure of why I was afraid, equally unsure of why I was there, I finally walked out very slowly toward his door. He tapped into something I didn't even know was there.

My knock would bring him to the door, I imagined. His wife was at work early.

He'd tell me my boyfriend wasn't there, I guessed.

Then I'd tell him I wasn't there looking for my boyfriend.

He'd invite me in without asking why, I was sure of it.

And without explaining myself, I'd show him that I was wearing pantyhose. There were no words I could utter reliably so I'd just have to show him. Pop off my shoes, he'd see the painted toes covered up by sheer brown. Rip-open the flannel and toss it to the floor, he'd see the dark top some inches below my sternum, snugly covering up my stomach. Unbutton my loose jeans and let them fall down, so he'd see nothing but pantyhose and approve.

His foot touching me meant he wanted to tell me something in private, I just knew that deep inside and needed to find out what. That's how I deluded myself.

My heart beat so fast the moment I knocked. The desire to run away was up there with wanting to breathe and live. But I was going to do what I planned and then wait to inexplicably hang onto his every word, to instruct me how to be a woman, to reward me, to punish me. To tell me what to think. To touch me against my will again. I knocked and waited to throw myself at him. And waited.

But he wasn't home that day, and I never returned.

I purposely forgot it ever happened.

The ex boyfriend got forgotten too, long ago.

But now that memory came to me vividly as I watched a good friend of ours fucking my husband. Betrayal, apprehension, inadequacy. Me discovering their tryst was a weird analog to that unwelcome foot touching me, uncovering the buried feelings it produced, making me its captive. An avalanche of unpracticed emotions came out gushing. Like on that distant day, I did nothing, just watched quietly.

The anger and urge to confront them wasn't there, but I felt fear. I watched power. My heart was beating fast and I felt primal fear of inadequacy. Of being put aside. My job as a wife was to serve him, to suck him. And yet proof of me not being enough was plainly there as he sought that elsewhere, from Leeann's mouth.

Now I remembered Ray's wife, and maybe I understood her a little from that night.

Was she supposed to stand in a corner and watch quietly? Was she supposed to just wait and miss out on sleep until Ray brought me into their bedroom? Was that all real, but just didn't happen because my boyfriend insisted on giving me a ride home? Thought of that distant memory uncovered all those long-buried feelings. The power, the callous disregard. What could have happened that night?

I felt sorry for her.

Feelings of jealousy rose up from out of nowhere and that's when I recognized that I was fucked in the head and have been for a very long time because I reshaped my feelings darkly to put myself on the other side of the fence, same side as my husband. Unnaturally. On purpose. Twisting reality. If I felt sorry for Ray's wife, should I feel sorry for myself? No, I couldn't admit that. No, I wasn't jealous, Leeann was the jealous one. The woman who could only have sneaks of my husband's cock and couldn't cook and clean for him every day and share his bed every night.

My husband was so much of a man that he needed two pussies to satisfy him, I thought intentionally because any other possibility was an admission of my deficiency. This made him twice the man I thought he was, not half. And if he needed pussy on the side, that's something I wouldn't get in his way of using so I willed myself to be turned on by what I was watching.

As I later watched him pound her on the couch and listened to Leeann's moans, I felt glad that she was being put into her place. Yeah, fuck her really good, make her hurt. Her pussy wasn't good enough to satisfy him either because he needed mine for morning fucks most days, the slut he was using could never please him and his big cock like I could.

When they switched positions and he ate her pussy, that's when I got angry. My husband shouldn't debase himself to eat that worthless bitch. Pushing past the door, I made noise and startled them. This time I didn't need to knock, I just had to put one foot in front of the other and repeat and face this.

"Oh my god," she called out and had nothing to cover herself up with as I walked closer toward the mancave couch. My husband stood up and had a look on his face that hurt me in a way I'd never felt before. In that split second it looked as if he felt sorry that he did this, but I wanted him not to hurt. That was the second clue that I was fucked in the head.

"Amanda..." he started but I shushed him. I kissed him on the lips and put my hands on his cheeks, soothing him. His lips tasted like Leeann, smelled like her pussy, "it's okay," I whispered, "I'll take care of this," I promised him and got on my knees and put my man's cock in my mouth, showing Leeann how it was supposed to be sucked. Deeper, hands free, more meaningfully. What I was doing was unsucking his cock, undoing all that she did by doing it better.

Leeann was nearly hyperventilating, so startled and caught up in the panicked aftermath that she didn't do anything when I switched to her and kissed her pussy lips, doing the work for my husband. I was going to lick her clean for him, do the work, show her I could do it better so she wouldn't want it from him. It was my first time since college, and I had a cheatsheet.

My husband just watched in fascination as I stared resolutely into Leeann's startled gaze, and put my tongue and fingers to work. She stared back in disbelief but soon closed her eyes, unable to face me. She looked uncomfortable but yet she did nothing to stop me. Minutes went by. My attention was where it needed to be and I made sure my husband didn't go soft as I brought Leeann to an unwanted orgasm with my mouth.

After a minute I got up and sat on the couch next to Leeann, facing my husband. Though I wanted to smile for him, I just couldn't get myself to and that was weird. It was like some kind of a weird barrier, it didn't agree with how I wanted to frame this situation so I looked away, down toward Leeann's pussy and stroked his cock toward it. Soon, I put my hands on her thighs and lifted her legs, helping spread her apart for my husband to fuck. Leeann's breathing was erratic as this was happening, and I could tell my hands sliding up and down her thighs was more unwelcome than my mouth was.

He fucked her faster than before now as I held her legs to her body for him. She pushed back lightly, enough for me to feel her resist. That meant that she liked being held for a fucking and wanted to show me that with her body. For that, I decided to reward her so I pushed my husband out of the way with my head and licked her clit, facing his cock. He took the opportunity to slip it into my mouth a few times, fucking whichever hole and woman he wanted.

My husband clearly wanted to fold her himself as he put his hands behind her knees and pressed himself into her body, so I switched to rubbing her clit and that's when she moaned unnaturally, betraying how out of control this was, how well she was being used. Two of them were fully naked and I was fully clothed, so I kept some distance when he shot his load all over her stomach, counting on my glasses to protect me.

Not sure why he picked that moment to be shy because he could've cum inside her, but I got the feeling that it was his apology in a way. While he collected himself, I licked his cum off of Leeann's stomach and swallowed it all, playfully swirling my tongue around her belly button. On my way out, I gently handed her a bundle of clothes and rejoined the Holiday party upstairs.

Our drive home happened in complete silence, and it felt awkward. Neither one of wanted to talk about what happened, he didn't know if it was okay to, and I didn't give him any hints that I was very happy about the situation.

Few days later I was driving late to work and I almost felt like crying because it wasn't my fault that I was running late when it hit me it'd be better better if I just pretended to be sick and skipped a day because the consequences of that were lesser. Those incentives were also badly designed.

And at that moment I lost my long-held resolve and did start crying. No, we didn't fuck Leeann together. I was so fucked in the head. My husband betrayed me, cheated on me. And I folded and couldn't even admit it to myself and instead of exploding, I fucking gave that whore head and how is it that my anger took this many days to kick in? What was wrong with me? Why did I keep letting people walk all over me.

This time I drove to Ray's angrily and hoped his wife was there because I had a few choice words for her. What was the matter with her, why did she let her husband do that? Why didn't she stand up for herself? I was going to lay into her. This time I wished I had jeans on because I always wore dresses and pantyhose to the office and I didn't want that to be part of the conversation for that pervert.

This time when I knocked, I wanted to be there and didn't want to run away.

"Why didn't you stop him?" I nearly cussed her out when Ray's wife opened the door. She had to have understood what I meant, because that night was my very last visit to their house.

She looked at me and nodded in recognition.

"Because I was the one who told him to do it," she said coldly.

"What...what do you mean?" I stammered in disbelief. My voice betrayed my confusion.

"Oh you sweet girl," she empathized, "you misunderstood something basic."

I was speechless.

She continued, "Before you came over that night I told Ray to bring me younger pussy to eat. He knew what would happen if he failed to satisfy my craving. And he failed me, and I think he did that on purpose. He should've driven you both home, dropped him off first and then finger-fucked you on the way back so you'd be ready for me. But instead, he let you go."

There were just no words. She was serious.

"For a week he couldn't sit down, partly because I whipped him senseless, and otherwise because I commanded him not to for punishment. He was exhausted after the first day."

My reply consisted of my jaw dropping. And I think it told her much more than words could.

"My husband cheated on me," I blurted out instead of forming any semblance of a meaningful reply.

She looked at me intensely and probably understood more about me in that brief moment than I thought I could ever explain in an hour.

"So your mind connected those two dots, did it?" she said curiously, "and you came here for closure? No, there's something deeper here. You're just like him, you know that. So insecure. Eager to please. Shapeable."

"What is wrong with you?" I cried out.

She opened the door wider and stepped back.

"You have two choices," she said, "either walk away and shrink your world to that tiny puddle of self pity. Or step inside and obey me and I will teach you the meaning of that pleasure."

Again I was speechless. I just stared at her in silence, my heart beating fast.

"My craving has long expired, and I don't debase myself like that anymore. So you'll be put to work. But you come in and I'll make it feel right with your husband, I'll make it feel like you're an equal, deserving, like you need to feel. Like you've put your own weight on the scale and made things even."

"You'll clean my kitchen, you'll do my laundry, and when you're done you'll serve me berries in my recliner and eat my pussy. And when you make me cum and leave and return next time, I'll tie you up in that same recliner and have my two favorite lovers fuck your mouth and pussy while I watch."

My heart beat so fast. The desire to run away was up there with wanting to breathe and live.

"And after that, the difficulty will just increase. I'll train you. I'll tell you what to think. Your endurance will be important and I take that responsibility seriously. There will be a lineup of cocks for you to suck regularly, to get into shape. We'll break in that sweet little asshole of yours. There will be powerful people using it. You will do everything I say, and I will come up with games to amuse myself with. Maybe I'll force Ray to whip you for that one failure of his, it'll break his heart to see you again because you didn't get away after all."

She walked away from the door, toward her kitchen.

After seconds that felt like minutes, I decided to close the door.

But first, I stepped inside.