Softening Her Resistance

This is a story of Dominance and submission, BDSM, and cuckoldry. It is a work of fiction, although what inspired me was an actual event, an email that I received in response to a story I published in Loving Wives titled 'The Big-Dicked Stranger'. I have changed all names and locations to protect everyone's identities. To the sender of that feedback email, thank you for the inspiration, and if you've found this story, I hope you enjoy it. The following fictional account describes what could have occurred from my perspective. This is a revised version of the original story, slightly modified to correct some grammar and spelling, and to add a few amplifying and clarifying paragraphs.

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The Big-Dicked Stranger was the first Hotwife story that I published. I published it in the Loving Wives category, which, I later learned, has become focused on anything but the description of the category. It received a lot of unfavorable comments from haters; in fact, there were so many that I turned comments off, and disabled anonymous feedback. The incels prefer to hide behind their online anonymity After publishing, it was immediately one-bombed, but ultimately the haters lost interest. Fortunately, the fans of the genre have kept giving it good ratings; as I'm writing it has climbed to a respectable 4.24/715 rating. I received some positive feedback via email, mainly from other authors offering suggestions. I hadn't received any emails regarding the story for about six months, then a new message arrived. The feedback I received was unlike any I've received before—this user was asking for help!

"Dear Lumiere," the email began. I was a bit taken aback by the proper salutation because, usually, the feedback just gets right to the point: "You suck! Stop writing this trash! Stop mucking up the Loving Wives category!" (The last one apparently from the self-proclaimed arbiter of what is right for the category). This email was different. "Your story is super hot. Is it true? I would love for my wife to experience this. She is interested but not yet willing. It's been fun so far. How did you convince your wife to become a Hotwife?"

After writing just one Hotwife story, a fan asked me how to make a Hotwife. Feelings of inadequacy flooded my mind. I thought about simply deleting the email. However, I felt compelled to respond because another fan of erotica was asking for advice. After all, we are kind of like a perverse family, so it didn't feel right to ignore him.

After putting my laptop aside and pouring myself a glass of Woodford Reserve Double Oaked Bourbon, I stepped outdoors and sat on the patio to think. What advice would I give a spouse who longs for his wife to have sex with other men? The Big-Dicked Stranger was not a Hotwife creation story; it was about a later encounter. As I sipped the bourbon and watched the sunset, I remembered the first time I'd watched my wife with another man, my college roommate. That first time didn't technically make her a Hotwife since we were only engaged, but it started a series of encounters that continued for years after our wedding day, and eventually led us to join a sex club. Remembering that day and subsequent moments when I chose a man to share her with, and ultimately the creation of our Dom/sub relationship, my cock began to stir. I went back inside and opened my laptop to compose a response.

"Dear John," I typed, "I'm not sure that I'm the best qualified to answer your question, however, I will attempt to assist you. I have many questions before I can respond adequately. How long have you been married? How long have you been trying to get her to take the step of becoming a hotwife? Do you have another man in mind, or is it your plan to use a total stranger? Do you want to watch? Participate? Tell me a bit about your wife. Do other men find her attractive? Is she flirtatious? What is her manner of dress — sexy, frumpy, professional? Does she work outside the home? For that matter, tell me about yourself as well. Why do you want her to become a hotwife?" I signed the email, "Regards, Lumiere," and clicked send, then put my laptop aside for the night.

The following morning I had a reply from John and it included two attachments, photos of him and his wife.

"Dear Lumiere," it began, "We are in our early forties. Mary is a medical transcriptionist who works from home, and I am an engineer for the local power company. We have been married for ten years, both having had past marriages that failed. We enjoy experiencing life to the fullest, and most weekends you can find us hanging out with friends at a neighborhood pub or exploring the outdoors. Being a professional herself, my wife is outgoing, but not in a flirting way. She dresses modestly. When she's working at home, she wears casual clothing, such as jeans or shorts and a T-shirt. She will put on slacks and a nice blouse if she needs to visit one of the medical experts she assists. On one of those days, she was photographed at a physician's office."

I enlarged the image of his wife after opening it. She was undeniably lovely, with shiny brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and caressed her breasts, blue eyes that seemed to glow, and a brilliant smile. She appeared to be standing close to a door frame, which helped me gauge her height as being around five-foot-six. She has lovely, shapely breasts and is probably a C-cup. She has a small waist and pleasantly flared hips. Except for the button at the neck, her white shirt was entirely buttoned, yet it had a tiny pucker where the placket met between her breasts. She wore black pleated slacks and what appeared to be sling-back pumps in black as well. She appeared quite professional.

I likewise examined the photograph of John. He was a handsome man, with brown hair speckled with gray. The photograph was taken at a fitness center, and he's standing near a piece of equipment that I recognize. With the equipment as a reference, I estimate he stands five-foot-ten. He is shirtless, and his stomach is flat but does not show his abs. He is laughing at whoever took the photograph, and his teeth are straight and white. It's obvious that he cares about his appearance.

"As you may surmise from the photograph, other men do find her attractive, but she does nothing to encourage them and never dresses provocatively. I first mentioned becoming a hotwife to her about three years ago, after my employer's Christmas party. One of the managers had a little too much to drink that evening and was flirting madly with her. She did her best to discourage him, and ultimately the alcohol got the best of him, and he passed out. I asked her if she enjoyed the attention, and she hesitated but ultimately told me it was nice. Since then, I have brought up the topic, and she says that I read too much erotica. We are to the point that I sometimes pretend to be another man when we have sex by talking dirty, she seems to enjoy that. I do not have a specific man in mind to help her become a hotwife, though the supervisor who flirted with her could have a positive impact on my career if she were to satisfy him. I do not want to watch her with another man, but I do want her to tell me all about it when she returns to me. I want her to be free to explore her sexuality and experience things I am unable to give her.

I hope this information helps, and I look forward to hearing from you again with your ideas. Regards, John"

I pondered the email for a bit, then opened the photo of Mary again. The more I gazed at the image, the more I felt attracted to her. I wondered if she was a buttoned-up professional who just needed the right situation to release her inner freak. The beginnings of a plan were forming in my mind. It sounded as though John felt inadequate in the bedroom. I crafted a response to John.

"John, Thank you for the information. You need to be clear on two things: first, only she can decide to become a hotwife. Her choice is final and cannot be contested in any way. You're asking her to allow another person to put a portion of their body into her own body; she must consent or, better yet, long for it; and second, do not try using alcohol to advance the situation, as you may destroy her trust in you. I also recommend that you not use your wife's body to advance your career, though from what I've read, some men do. To me, it seems too much like prostituting your wife.

I think I might be able to help you. I encourage you to continue the role-play, but not just during sex. When you kiss her, tell her that you'd like to see her kiss another man, occasionally point out other men, and ask if she'd like it if they kissed her. When you touch her, ask her if she'd like to be touched by another man. When you enter her, ask her if she wishes she could try a different cock. Do not become overbearing with this; do not do it every time. Get creative with it.

Tell me about your marriage. Is it strong? Do you communicate well? Tell me about the sex, specifically what needs are not being met. Lumiere"

That night, I checked my email, and I received a response from John.

"Thank you, Lumiere. We do have a strong marriage. We talk often about our relationship and how we can improve it. Since we've both had failed marriages, we try our best to be mindful of each other's needs. She is my dream girl, and her love for me is beyond measure. Our sex life is good; we do it a couple of times a week, and we both enjoy it. My penis is average, but that's okay since she is tight. We sometimes engage in oral sex, and I enjoy her taste. I'm one of those men who eat pussy for their own pleasure. She sometimes allows me to finish in her mouth, but usually for her, oral sex is just a prelude to intercourse. As for unmet needs, I would like more oral sex, but what man wouldn't? She wants something that I am uncomfortable with; she wants to be dominated. Not that she wants to be tied up; she just wants me to take charge, order her around, and call her things like slut and whore. John"

The information about failed marriages was a red flag to me. If either of their marriages had ended due to infidelity, then that trauma could doom his hotwife fantasy. I fired back a quick email to him, asking how their first marriages ended. He was still online and responded quickly with the information. Her marriage had failed because her husband lost his job, and with her now being the breadwinner, he became overbearing and controlling, not in the way she wanted. His marriage ended because his wife had a sense of entitlement and was spending him into bankruptcy.

With this information, I felt comfortable taking the next step.

"John, Do as I suggested and see how she responds. In the meantime, would you permit me to correspond with Mary? I have experience with dominance and might be able to help move things along. I need a private way to contact her, not to hide our correspondence but to make her comfortable having conversations with me. She is always free to share with you if she so desires. Tell her you've found a man who would like to try and satisfy her need to be dominated. We will not meet; this will be strictly through our communication channel. I would prefer to have her telephone number so that we can both talk and text. Lumiere"

I didn't hear from John for a couple of days and was beginning to wonder if I had scared him off. On the third day of silence, a Sunday, I found an email from him waiting for me when I logged in.

"Lumiere, She is nervous about corresponding with you, but I have convinced her to give it a try. John" The number he gave me was in the 317 area code.

I quickly replied.

"John, Tell her I will call her at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow. And tell her that if she lets it go to voicemail, there will be consequences. Lumiere"

When I saw the telephone number, my heart skipped a beat. It's an Indiana number! Specifically, the greater Indianapolis area, which is at most a two-hour drive from me, if that's where they live. I could potentially use my knowledge of the city in my interactions with them. With the portability of cell phone numbers, they could be anywhere.

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Monday at 11:00 a.m. I dialed her number, and she answered after the third ring. I planned to find out how easily she takes to being submissive.

"Hello?" Her voice was soft and very feminine. The kind of voice you want to hear moaning, "Yes, baby," in your ear as you're about to pound her into the mattress.

"Good morning, Mary. This is Lumiere. How are you this morning?"

"Honestly? I'm a bit nervous, but otherwise, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

"Always be honest with me, Mary. Otherwise, this will not work. I have to trust you. I promise to always be honest with you. Can you promise the same?"

"Yes."

"The proper response is 'Yes, Sir. I promise.' Say it."

There was a pause, then she responded, "Yes, Sir. I promise."

"Good girl. I understand your nervousness; I am a bit nervous myself. I'm always nervous with a new submissive until we get to know each other better. That's what today is about, getting to know each other. Do you have time to talk?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Good girl. Lumiere is not my real name; if we develop a relationship, I may share my real name with you and John. For now, just call me Sir. You are free to share any details of our interactions with John; I will never ask you to hide information from him. Whether you share with him and what you share is up to you; it is not my intention to come between you and your husband. Is that clear, Mary?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well, let me tell you a little about myself. I'm sixty-two, and a widower; my wife passed away five years ago after a struggle with breast cancer. I'm six-foot tall with silver hair, a beard and mustache, and blue eyes. My wife called me 'her silver fox.' I take care of myself by going to the fitness center a couple of times a week. After my wife passed I decided that life was too short and I retired from my job as an engineer for a defense contractor. Now, I spend my time traveling, gardening, reading, and enjoying beautiful women like you."

"How do you—."

"How do I know that you're beautiful?" I interrupted, "Didn't John tell you he shared a photo of you?"

"No, he didn't tell me that."

"No, Sir," I gently corrected her.

"Sorry. No, Sir."

"It seems that I have you at a disadvantage, would you like to have a photo of me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"All right, hold on and I'll text you a photo."

I went through the photo library on my phone and found a photo from a Christmas party I had attended. I was wearing white pants and a gray and white marled cotton sweater. I looked quite dashing if I do say so myself. I sent the photo and moments later I heard her phone ding, then heard a slight gasp.

"What do you think?" I asked her.

"You're—quite handsome, Sir."

"Thank you, Mary."

"What photo did my husband share, Sir?"

"The one where you're wearing the white blouse and black slacks. You look quite professional. And thank you for addressing me properly, you're a good girl." She was taking quickly to addressing me as Sir.

"Thank you, Sir. I don't like that picture much. May I ask another question?"

"Of course, how else will we come to know each other?"

"What do you mean when you say that you spend your time enjoying beautiful women?"

"I spend time with them, take them places, buy them things, and have sex with them. Glorious, energetic sometimes frantic, sex. I fulfill their secret wishes. I have a dominant personality, so sometimes I spank them if that's what they desire. Sometimes I do more...intense domination, but that's not my preference. I suppose some might call me a sugar daddy, but I'm a very demanding lover; I extract my money's worth from their bodies. I would be considered closer to a Soft Dom than your classical Hard Dom, though I'm fully capable of giving a woman that experience. Tell me about yourself, Mary."

"Um, I'm forty-two, I'm a medical transcriptionist and I work from home. I enjoy cooking; people love my fried chicken. I walk several mornings a week with a group of friends. I have a daughter from my first marriage, she recently graduated college and moved to Arizona for work. John and I have been married for twelve years but we have no children together."

"Tell me something that people don't know about you, maybe a secret that even John doesn't know."

There was a long pause, and when she finally spoke, her voice crackled.

"I've always wanted to be dominated by an older man, Sir."

"I see. You should thank your husband for finding me. Tell me, Mary, how is sex with John, does he satisfy you?"

"It's fine, Sir."

"Just fine? Is he unable to fulfill your secret desire?"

"No, sir, he does not. He's a...considerate lover."

"So, you'd like to be dominated in the bedroom. Perhaps spanked, or maybe degraded, called a slut and a whore. Would you like to be tied up and used, Mary? Taken by a rough man and made into his fuck toy?"

"Oh!" She gasped then was silent for a bit.

"Mary, are you still with me?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm here."

"Did I describe your secret desire?"

"Yes, Sir," she responded timidly. 'With the right man, I long to experience all of that...Sir."

"Well then, perhaps I can help you find someone to help you."

"Oh! No, my hus—."

"Your husband would love it. Isn't that his secret desire? Doesn't he want you to have sex with other men?"

"Did he tell you that? Oh, god."

"Yes, he did. Didn't he tell you how he found me?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, Sir, he didn't tell me."

"Well, he found me on a site where people write and share erotic stories. The kind of stories where people do all kinds of naughty things, even having sex with someone who's not their spouse."

I heard a slight gasp.

"He wrote to me about one of my stories. The one about a man watching his wife having sex with a stranger."

"Oh, my!"

"Our time is nearly up, Mary, but before I go I need you to do something for me; I need you to be a slut for me. Stand up and remove your clothes."

"Remove my clothes?"

"Don't question me, or we will not get along. Remove your clothes, now. Put me on speaker because you're going to need your hands."

I heard her lay the phone down then heard a zipper and the rustle of clothing.

"I'm undressed, Sir."

"What a good little slut you are! Now touch yourself between your legs and tell me if you're wet."

"I'm wet, Sir. Very wet."

"Good, now sit down, spread your legs, and touch yourself. I want to hear you cum for me."

"Oh, god!" she gasped.

"Do it, Mary. Do it or I'll end our call and you'll never hear from me again."

"Yes, Sir," she responded. Her voice was a breathless crackle once again; the sound was quite endearing.

In a matter of moments, I heard her begin to moan.

"That's a good girl, I want to hear you moan. I want you to call out my name when you cum."

I heard her whimper and her moaning increased. Moments later she reached a crescendo.

"Oh, god, Lumiere! I'm cumming, I'm cumming for you, Sir!" she called. "Yes, yes, yes!"

I gave her a few moments to regain her composure then asked if she had a good cum.

"Yes, Sir, a very good cum."

"You've been a very good girl today, Mary. I'm going to end our call now, but before I do, I'm giving you three assignments. First, go into the bathroom and send me a mirror selfie showing your naked body from the waist up, only from the waist up. If you send me the photo in the next five minutes, I'll do the same for you. Second, decide what you'd like me to call you; what will be your submissive name, the name that I claim you by, that signifies you as my property? It should be something that makes you feel cherished. Third, ask your husband to show you the website where he found me, then read at least one of my stories. I've enjoyed our talk today, Mary. I'll call you at the same time on Wednesday, just don't let it go to voicemail."