When Couples Quarrel

Author's note: This story is inspired by Boots from Justmyimagination. Thanks for providing the spark and the suggestions too!

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Everything changed when my wife, Hannah, came home in a pair of thigh-high boots. It wasn't the first occasion I had seen a woman in them, but this was the first I had seen her in it. For someone who was accustomed to the sight of her in oversized tees and track pants at home, no one could fault me for staring, surely. It certainly had nothing to do with the black leather footwear molding to her shapely legs, making them look way longer--long enough to imagine them wrapped around a man's hips. Neither did it have anything to do with the four-inch stiletto heel which displayed the arches of her feet to perfection. Was this the reason why so many courtiers of the past chose to kneel before their Queens, so they could admire the royal feet from up close?

And if that wasn't enough to make a man take pause, the dress would. The boots came right up to the hem of her black dress, a tight-fitted piece with a laced corset which thrust her breasts upwards provocatively. Who knew she had cleavage? I didn't, but then I hadn't paid much attention to her. If I had known her breasts could rival that of Kandy at the bar last night, I might be tempted to get better acquainted with her. On the other hand, Kandy allowed us to pour shots down her cleavage and drink from it. I'd say Kandy won on the adventurous front.

My eyes followed her across the room, the sound of her heels making sexy clicking sounds on the marble flooring. I expected her to head straight to her room. Nope. This time she acted out of character. She crossed the room in several long strides and flung herself into the armchair in front of me. Her booted feet came to rest on top of the ten-thousand-dollar hand-blown glass coffee table. My brows vanished into my hairline. She had once screamed at me for putting a glass of iced tea on that furniture without a coaster.

Even though we had been married for three years, we seldom interact with each other unless necessary. She was busy climbing the corporate ladder while trying to earn her father's recognition; I had no ambitions beyond hedonistic pleasures. Our marriage was the result of our parents; hers heavy-handed, mine opportunistic. Neither of us were consulted, and when we learned about it, our opinions hadn't matter. Later, my mom told me that they had accepted two and a half million from her parents to save the floundering family business. The marriage was the second half of the agreement.

I was grateful. Really. I repaid her parents' generosity by leaving Hannah alone. We even kept separate bedrooms in opposite wings of the house. It was what she wanted too. We were essentially two strangers living under the same roof. I had realized by then that Hannah had no idea of the deal our parents had made. I, very wisely, did not enlighten her.

I finally dragged my eyes from her boots and broke the silence. "Interesting choice of footwear," I settled on something I thought was neutral.

It wasn't.

Her face darkened. She smiled humorlessly. "I thought you'd appreciate them. This was what they like to wear, yes?" She pinned me with a sharp glare. "Those women you prefer to spend your nights with."

I froze. Why was she bringing this up now? She had no complaints about my behavior for the last three years, even though it was obvious what I was doing. Other than the obligatory trips to her parents where we put up an amiable front, I did what I wanted the rest of the time.

"Is something wrong?" I asked prudently.

She straightened, putting her booted feet back on the floor. I suspected she couldn't handle desecrating the coffee table for long anyway.

"I've been thinking about our marriage. I've decided to change things around here."

That surprised me. As the only other long-term occupant in the house we lived in together, that definitely affected me. I tried to be positive. This didn't have to be bad news.

She dashed my hopes in the next second.

"I've cancelled all your cards. And I won't be reinstating them anytime soon." She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, waited for my response.

My attention was briefly distracted by the bouncing of her breasts, the way her action had lifted and pushed her breasts even closer together, deepening her cleavage. It took another few seconds for me to register what she said. Needless to say, I was more than annoyed.

Getting to my feet, I confronted her. "What gives you the right to do that? You can't take away my money."

Her chin jutted up regally. "Actually, I can. You see, the money you've been spending for the last three years came from my accounts."

I stiffened. Oh shit. My parents had screwed me over. They had given me my current set of cards after the wedding and I had thought my parents were being generous as usual. They had always been financially indulgent with me. It was one of the reasons for my extravagant spending and epicurean lifestyle which would now come to an abrupt end.

I reassessed my current predicament. I could go to my parents for money, and hopefully they would be equally charitable as they had in the past. I didn't give a thought about employment. I had been brought up to see that as the devil, one of the reasons why I could never understand Hannah's obsession with her family firm. One of my ancestors was such a good entrepreneur he had successfully ensured the next few generations could idle their time away. And idle we did.

"That is news to me too," I said slowly, sitting back down on the sofa.

She snorted. "You don't say." Hannah wasn't finished. She went on, "Imagine just how furious I was, that I went straight to my father and announced I've had enough and am filing for a divorce. Imagine being told that the marriage was part of a two point five million deal."

I swallowed. The fire in her eyes almost scalded me. "I had no part of the deal. I only knew about it after our parents were through."

My defense was ignored. Hannah was on a roll. "Imagine, for one second, how I feel after learning that the man who had married me in exchange for a two and a half million, who had been living large on my money on hookers and strippers-"

"Professional escorts," I interjected quietly.

Hannah quelled me with one glance. I shut up instantly.

"Imagine how I feel when I'm told I couldn't divorce you anyway."

My brows lifted. That was surprising. "How fortuitous."

Honestly, although I disliked the state of marriage, I had come to enjoy the benefits tremendously. If I were to marry anyone else, I might have to prove myself marriage-worthy to my potential in-laws. Hannah's parents, however, were as indulgent as my parents were, if not more so. They were always eager to listen to my tales and exploits; I had kept the high-class escorts and nights of debauchery to myself. It didn't occur to me until now that they might have a reason for their attitudes.

"Did they say why?" I asked gingerly.

She shot me a look but didn't answer, choosing to move right on. "Like I said, things are going to change. And don't even think about going to your parents. I've spoken to them. They will not give you another dollar if I don't give the say-so." She tapped her fingers on the armrest. "Do you know I own more than half of your family business now? Not that it's worth much compared to mine, what with all of you squandering it away. Isn't it amazing the things you discover when you decide to look into your assets in preparation for divorce?"

I opened my mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. There was nothing for me to say. She had said it all.

Satisfied that I fully understood my precarious situation now depended on her, she continued. "From now on, you're going to stay at home and take care of my needs." She licked her red lips. "All of them. Please me and I'll be generous with you."

I could barely believe my ears. Was she setting herself up as my sugar mommy? I thought I had imagined her sexual reference until she glanced pointedly at my crotch. My cock jerked in response, as though it sensed that it had been beckoned. I flushed.

"I won't go to bed with you." This whole notion was ludicrous. We disliked each other. As for the rest, I didn't believe she could make me. I was a man, larger and stronger than her. Besides, I won't be a sellout.

"No?" She arched her brow. She lifted a hand and pointed a finger outside the window. "I bet if I were to go out on the street to any guy with two and a half million, they'd be more than happy to do anything I want. In fact, they'd be eager to jump at it just to have half of what you've been spending in the last three years."

I froze. Even without an accountant, I knew my expenditure must have amassed to a small fortune.

"So, why don't you say that again? No?" she drawled, her voice sultry. Where did she learn to talk like that?

I stared at her in silence. My indignant protest, built on shaky grounds, had fizzled out.

She settled herself comfortably into the single seater, confidence radiating from her. That was what had been different about her today, I thought. While she was a capable woman, she didn't project it outwards the way she was doing now. It was probably due to her contentious relationship with her father, who was the most chauvinistic man I'd ever met. Good for me, but hard on her. Each time we left her parents' place, she was quiet and wilted. I'd have told her to ignore her father, if we were on better terms. Not that she'd have listened. Like any child who grew up without parental affection, she was hell-bent on getting it.

She crossed her legs, her thighs parting just enough to provide a glimpse between them. I didn't want to look, really, but the boots appeared in my line of sight. It would be like ignoring the sun. And both heat me up, one my skin and the other my loins. If she had chosen the boots deliberately to seduce me, she had hit the nail upon the head. I had one weakness and it was for women in boots.

Hannah was a fantasy come true right now. I couldn't say no to her.

She knew it too. Signaling for me to rise with a crook of her finger--where the hell did she learn that too?--she commanded, "Strip. I want to see what kind of man my parents' money had purchased for me."

I stood reluctantly, half-enthralled by her. "Don't tell me you go to this length just to have sex."

Fury flashed in her eyes. For a moment, I thought she was going to call an end to everything. I wasn't sure if I would be relieved or disappointed frankly. Her chin hardened, her lips pursed. Instead of the seductive princess, she was now an angry goddess. It didn't diminish her power over me, but I found myself in awe of her. Her eyes could have stabbed bloody holes in my chest and I would have willingly let her.

Wasn't it odd how we were mere strangers a few minutes ago and now I was halfway subservient to her?

I shook my head to wake myself up. It didn't take her long to keep her anger under wraps, appearing like a queen again, and very much in authority.

"Well. Don't stand around." She clucked her tongue impatiently. "Get a move on and get naked."

I did. Humor her for now, I thought. Her reaction had revealed to me that she wasn't happy about this either, which made me wonder why she was soliciting sex from me. To be honest, cutting off my finances, though a major inconvenience to me, wasn't a surprise. I'd probably do the same thing in her shoes. But it did put me solely under her thumb. If sex was what she wanted, she would have it. Surely no man in his sane mind would turn that down. One pussy was the same as another. It was her who was governed by the conventions of modesty. If she had nothing to lose, so did I.

I undid my shirt quickly, shrugging it off, letting it fall on the floor. When I reached for my belt, she spoke again.

"Do it slowly, will you? Like a striptease. I'm sure you've been to a number of them."

I drew in a sharp breath. A striptease? The gall of her! Still, my movements slowed. I wasn't about to wriggle my hips to the music. That was too much for me. I held her gaze as I lowered my pants, daring her not to look away. My face burned but I did not stop. Damn if I would be a coward.

When I was in my briefs, she stood up, walking over to me. She eyed me from head to toe, circling me, inspecting me. Laying a hand on my chest, she pinched me. Hard. It felt like her manicured nails scrapped off a layer of my skin too. I grunted, held my tongue. She didn't stop there. She patted my stomach, or rather, at the small belly I had lately acquired. The years of drinking and indulgence finally had its toll on my body. This was the first time a woman ever scrutinized me so closely. I usually had my pick of women, all of them eager to jump on me, for I was known for extravagant parting gifts. Was this how they felt, like a chunk of meat for the purview of customers?

It did not cool my libido.

"I've to say, for a thirty-three-year-old who hasn't exercised a day in his life, you haven't let yourself go entirely. But that changes now." She patted my tummy pointedly. My lips flattened at her blatant affront. How the wheel of fortune had changed. I always had my pick of the women wherever I go. Now she was the one picking on me.

Her hand retreated. She took a step back, nodded. In my mind, a female voice went, two hundred pounds of this fine ham please, and pack it well.

"You'll wake up every morning at six to run. Five miles at least. I'll check. In the afternoon, you will do weight-training. If you have difficulty following the schedule, I'll hire a personal trainer. It'd be good for you to get some stamina. You're going to need it." She made a noise of dissatisfaction. "We do have to make the best of things, don't we? After all, it's not like I can exchange you with a man ten years younger."

I wasn't about to let that go without a retort. "That's not a man. That's a boy."

"Oh?" Her red lips formed a perfect pout. My imagination immediately volunteered an image of her red lips around my cock. It stirred, just as her gaze fell on my crotch. There was no hiding it. The shape of my cock was visible through the soft material of my underwear. It quickly doubled in size under her attention, eager to prove itself. I reddened, aware of how childish its response was.

She laughed quietly. It was a joyous silvery tingle, like musical chimes in a breeze. It surprised me. I hadn't heard her laugh before, odd when one considered we had been married for years. Now, her laugh continued to echo in my ears. My abs tightened. I felt almost... shy.

"Well. Someone's eager to prove himself. Why don't you show it to me? Let me see if you have what makes a man."

Shy? That just went down the drain. I raised my head to glare at her. It should be easy to strip off the final piece of clothing. No one could resist the challenge to their manhood. She even had the smirk right down to pat. My hands grasped the elastic band of my briefs, my eyes holding hers as I pulled it southwards. I didn't want to miss a single reaction from her. To my knowledge, she hadn't had much sexual experience. Her parents had protected her too well, kept her from other boys in school, and when she began working, she had worked at her parents' company where everyone knew her as the boss's daughter, and consequently kept a wide berth around her.

Her eyes didn't even widen. There was nothing except open curiosity when my cock was freed. Her finger reached out and poked at it. I barely resisted rolling my eyes. What was this? Sacred-virgin behavior? I wanted to grab her wrist and teach her how to handle my cock. It wasn't some fragile vase at the museum, ready to shatter with one wrong move.

Then I saw the fascination on her face as she ran her fingers down its length, her touch more teasing than stimulating, and something in me softened. What the hell right? She could do whatever she wanted with me. She was the boss now.

"It's so hot," she murmured. Her hand finally grabbed my cock firmly. Her fingers couldn't close around its girth. "And so thick. Oh! It's growing. It's getting harder."

"That's what it does, honey." Sarcasm dripped from my words.

She ignored me, continued her perusal of my sexual organ, moving closer towards it and closer towards me. I tensed, every part of me, including my cock. She made a noise of surprise when it twitched in her hand, froze as though it had suddenly come alive.

"How peculiar," she murmured when it stopped moving after that. I must admit, it was tempting to do it again, just to watch her reaction.

Her hands continued their exploration, intrigued by the ridge of the mushroom-shaped head. A fingernail scrapped across my slit. My cock jerked involuntarily. I hissed, reaching for her misbehaving hands. "You might want to be careful there. That's sensitive."

She wasn't contrite. Her eyes gleamed. "Sensitive, you say?"

I shut my mouth and released her hand, taking a step back. Maybe two. No point in handling weapons over to the enemy. Especially armed as she already was.

She put a hand on her small waist, crooked a finger at me. I gaped at her. How did she manage to do that and looked so sexy at the same time?

"Where did you learn to things like that?" I demanded. I was sure she was a virgin. Unless she had been screwing around in the office under her father's nose, which I knew was impossible, there was no way she could act like this.

Her eyes were mischievous. "Where? Tease, of course. Your favorite strip club. The girls were very generous once I brought up your name. Tammy, in particular, told me what you like. Short tight dress, high boots." She waved at her outfit. "I must say, she was right. Look at you, all hard and bothered."

Tammy, was it? If it was indeed her, I was screwed. Tammy was the owner of Tease and she stripped occasionally when she got into the mood. She wasn't a big fan of mine after learning I was married the morning after we slept together. Some women had a much looser definition of marriage; Tammy wasn't one of them. I could just imagine what else Tammy had taught her. I had been in her room, had seen the array of vibrators and dildos in different material and colors neatly arranged on the shelves. I could imagine Hannah and the other strippers crowding around them, teaching her just how to handle a man's cock.

"Come back here," she ordered, her eyes narrowing.

My feet carried me mutinously to her. As she leaned over at the waist, her breasts swayed and jiggled dangerously in the corset. I barely felt her hands returning to my cock, fixated on the idea that her breasts might just popped out of their confines. When she found and squeezed my balls, I absently spread my legs wider to grant her greater access. Her hand cupped them, kneaded them gently.

It didn't take her long to get the rhythm of a handjob, with her fingers wrapped around my throbbing erection and the other massaging my balls beneath. It was easy for her, I deduced. After all, there was no more obvious signal to a man's arousal than what was in her hand right now. Precum seeped from my slit, providing some lubrication to ease her handling. Her strokes became smoother, longer. I shut my eyes. My hips moved with a mind of its own, thrusting into her hands. I could feel an orgasm on the horizon.

"Are you going to come?" she asked.

I shook my head. It felt strange to be handled like this, with her clothed and me naked. I'd had handjobs and blowjobs and sex. None made me feel as vulnerable as this. She had come home today and turned me inside out.

"No?" She sounded skeptical. The hand on my balls tightened to the point of pain. I yelped. I could have pulled away if I could, but my cock and family jewels remained firmly in her grasp. "I think you're lying to me. You're enjoying this, and you're going to come."