Wrestling the Shrew

Another conference. At least that is what our company calls them when they summon you to head office. Two hundred miles from where I live. "A conference where we will hear about new products, deepen our knowledge of existing products, and learn more the marketing strategy our company is developing." At least that is what the letter said, but most of us knew what it really meant -- or certainly the last part about developing "the marketing strategy." Generally it means being given targets to meet which are ludicrous; it means being shouted at for lack of sales; it means being compared unfavourably to some mystical office with miraculous sales; it means being berated for lack of commitment; it means being asked to give our souls to the company. As much as we complain about these "conferences," we have to go. And the worst part -- where we have to stay. We have to find hotels. Spend a week eating hotel food, spending nights in pointless bars passing pointless hours watching pointless television programmes dreaming of bedding the gorgeous girl who just walked in with the muscled hunk............

It was my wife who came up with the solution. Apart from telling me to stop moaning, she suggested I stay with her sister and her husband. Joan and Mike were friendly, easy going people, although I didn't know them particularly well -- they had always lived some distance from us. However, they had recently moved to the same city as the conference, and while I would have to get a local train from their home to "head office," it was only a 20 minute train ride, and they only lived a five minute walk from the station. A couple of phone calls from my wife Mandy to her sister, and it was arranged, although I'm sure the arranging didn't take the 96 minutes the phone call took!

Joan and Mike were now in their late forties, their children left home, and had no problem finding a spare room for me. Delighted to see me and get to know me a bit better, according to Mandy. They had always been a couple that were a bit different from the norm. Joan was a strong personality with strong opinions. Most of those opinions revolved around what Mike should do, and be like. Do things like the shopping, looking after the children, fitting the new cupboards. According to Joan, he should be a go-getter, an ambitious man, none of which fitted Mike at all. Mike was a gentle, meek guy who did what his wife told him to. Joan I reflected on -- now in her late forties, she always had a good figure -- tall, slim, shoulder length black hair, often caught in a pony tail. Joan worked out at the gym a couple of times a week, as well as rode a bike everywhere. The exercise kept her body slim and, well, to be honest, hot.

The trouble was, I got on fine with them both, particularly Mike, but had had my share of run-ins with Joan. She tried to tell me what to do when I saw her. She tried to get me involved in the causes she cared about. And she tried my patience when talking politics. We got on, initially, but we constantly had battles when we were together -- probably two egos battling it out. Well, I could live with her for a week -- anything had to better than the hotels. And to be true it would be less than a week -- I would catch the early train and go straight to "head office" on the Monday morning, then only go to their house after the Monday sessions, and leave after Friday Breakfast, going to the final day, then going straight home when the conference ended. Just 4 nights -- we couldn't start world war three in 4 nights could we????????

It felt like it had been a long day, as I rode the train out into the suburbs to the, hopefully, relaxing home of my in-laws. It had been an early start to get to "head office" for 10.00am, then spend 7 hours in talks and seminars and workshops and lunchbreaks, but now it was good to sit silently on the train, keen not to miss the stop, pulling the google map out of my pocket..........

Ten minutes later I was ringing the doorbell on a strange house. The door was opened by Mike who shook me warmly by the hand before taking my suitcase and leading me into the sitting room. Joan came over to me smiling, kissed me on either cheek, welcomed me. It had been a couple of years since I had seen Mike and Joan, and Joan looked good. Slim, tallish, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, looking as good as I remembered. Mike was about the same height, dressed in trousers and shirt -- the tie and jacket from his work had already been shed.

The evening was easy -- good food, washing up, watching the telly, catching up on family -- Mike and Joan saying how much they were enjoying things now the kids had left home. If there was one slight hitch, it was perhaps seeing Joan getting Mike to do things. Telling him to take my case to my room, telling him to make coffee, telling him to show me around the house. It wasn't a worry to me, but you would say you could see who wore the trousers in their house, and it reminded me of my wife Mandy telling me that older sister Joan had always been bossy when they were young.

The next day -- Tuesday -- passed slowly, and again it was back to Joan and Mike's house. Again a pleasant evening although it changed slightly -- Joan's bossiness was beginning to embrace me. I felt I was ordered to wash up with Mike -- which I was happy to do, then told where to sit. Told the TV programme I wanted to see wasn't worth watching. It was still a pleasant evening and I took the opportunity to phone Mandy to see how she was.

Again Wednesday went as well as you might expect, but this time things were a bit more difficult at Joan and Mike's house. It felt like Mike was ordered to take me to the pub for a drink, and Joan seemed to think it was her responsibility to tell me what to wear to the pub. And exactly what time we should be back. At the pub Mike admitted that Joan organised his life, and as much as he had tried he couldn't seem to get the opportunity to make his own decisions. But then, he admitted, he enjoyed having someone to run his life -- all of his life, he said with a wink. And someone who would spank him when he was naughty........... I changed the subject quickly -- It didn't seem the right thing to be talking about.

When we were twenty minutes late back from the pub, Joan gave us a good telling off -- and she meant it -- about how we had made her worried, and should have more respect. When I went to bed I didn't feel comfortable -- I suppose I had never stayed with Mike and Joan before without Mandy there, and had never experienced the full bossiness. At the same time it was clear that Mike was almost happy to be treated like a naughty child, submitting to Joan's rule. And that wink in the pub suggested he enjoyed being submissive, allowing Joan to dominate him.

Thursday was much like the rest of the days at "head office," but when I arrived home it was clear Joan and Mike were in the middle of a row. Joan seemed to stand tall, looking stunning in a simple t-shirt and knee length skirt, while Mike seemed to be cowering like a little child. They greeted me warmly, but the row continued. One might say, rather than row, that it was a monologue, with Joan telling Mike he should do what he was told, and be more helpful, and sort out the things she asked him to sort out and................. and it went on all through our meal. At some stage through the meal I said, trying to change the subject: "I'm sure Mike won't be like that tomorrow will you Mike.?"

It wasn't the right thing to say: Joan snapped at me, about how all you men stick together, and are as bad as each other. I was rather annoyed, but kept quiet. Joan continued telling Mike how bad he was, listing his short-comings. The odd thing was that Mike seemed to enjoy it. Being told off. Humiliated in front of me. As Mike and I went to wash the dishes, Joan's parting shot was "Perhaps I should give you a good spanking later, and let Tony watch and see you get what you deserve." Mike went bright red, but I noticed he had to move strangely, to accommodate a bulge in his trousers. Somehow the argument had introduced a tenseness into the house which hadn't been there earlier in the week.

As we finished, I wandered into the sitting room carrying the tea-towel. Joan was standing by one of the chairs, and tried to snatch the tea-towel from me, but didn't quite get it from my hand. She glared at me, demanding: "Give it to me, so I can put it out to dry".

We were suddenly staring at each other, until I spoke quietly. "No."

"Don't be silly," she said condescendingly. She reached for it again, caught the edge of it but I wouldn't let go.

"No-one speaks to me like I am a little child," I said quietly to her.

She started to pull the cloth as she spat back at me: "I'll talk to you as you men deserve, you spineless idiot."

"I am not spineless and I am not an Idiot." I continued to speak quietly, with the menace in my voice growing.

"You're just like him," she sneered, pointing to her husband. "No Balls at all. If a rapist came in here and attacked me all he would do was hand him a tissue when he'd finished."

The argument had escalated quickly, but I kept calm. "I have balls. More balls than you can handle. And if I was your rapist you would be begging for more. And then I'd take the wimp as well" I said, pointing at Mike.

We were now standing inches from each other, staring into each other's faces. It was Mike who spoke, hesitantly. "Please, let's apologise and calm down. There's a good film on the telly."

"Go on, then," Joan demanded, staring hard into my eyes. "You apologise."

I smiled at her. "I apologise," I said quietly. I continued to hold her eyes. Suddenly her anger flared up. Suddenly her hand flashed and caught my face, stinging as the slap cracked out loud into the silent room.

I smiled at her again. "You will not do that again." I looked down -- it seemed ludicrous that we were both still holding the t-towel which had started the fight.

I was ready for the next slap. As her hand headed for the side of my face I grabbed her wrist, stopped the slap, then twisted her arm behind her back and held her tight. Her body was pressed against mine as I held her arm firmly up her back. I had to hold hard -- she was strong and she was struggling. As she struggled I felt her attempt to knee me in the groin. Luckily she was too close to get any power into the attempt, but I wasn't going to take the risk. I pulled her arm further up her back until she yelped in pain. I put one of my legs around hers, pushed backwards and she fell to the floor, with me falling on top of her.

In the fall, her arm had got free, and as I sat on her, her arm flashed up and caught me across the face again, stinging, my cheek turning bright red. It took me a moment to recover -- luckily I had leant back and the next attempt to slap me missed. Luckily with the way she was lying, her next attempt -- this time to punch me in the groin -- had little strength in it, although I felt a twinge of pain as it landed. Joan was a real vixen, seeming to have no sense of what was right as she fought. She was swinging her arms, attempting to slap, attempting to punch, her legs kicking hard. It was all I could do to hold her on the ground and fend off her attempts to hit me.

At last she seemed to be tiring, realising she was not going to get away. For a moment there was calm, and I heard Mike say quietly, ineffectually: "Please stop, please.............."

It was clear Joan wasn't for stopping. At his voice, she screamed "Get off me you fucking bastard", and again I was caught be a slap across the face, as she began to struggle again.

It was difficult. Until now I had done nothing but hold her and defend myself. There is something wrong with fighting, or hitting a woman. You don't do it. It's not honourable. I sat on her, and quickly grabbed her wrists and pushed them to the floor above her head. She was still struggling, fighting hard, shouting. As we struggled I noticed her skirt had ridden up to her thighs and her white panties were showing. There wasn't time to admire as she had to be tamed, controlled, somehow.

As I sat on her and held her hands above her head she struggled, but there was no escape, and gradually she tired herself with her struggling until she was worn out, or appeared to be. There was one of those silent moments as her struggling and shouting stopped, as Mike stood watching, unable to move. It was me who broke the silence. "Have you stopped? Do you now admit I'm the master?"

It was a provocation to her. "Get off me. When you get off I'll kill you..........." Her shouting was accompanied by her attempt to knee me in the back, but I was leaning too far forward for it to be effective.

She screamed again. "Get off me. Mike, get him off................" It was clear Mike didn't have the fight in him to even try. I glanced at him and truth was there was glint in his eye which suggested he might be enjoying this........ enjoying watching his wife tamed.

Again there was a moment of stillness. I kept holding her hands but got off her, and before she could react, or realise what was happening, I had turned her onto her stomach, then again sat on her waist, releasing her hands. Now with her face to the floor there was little she could do except struggle, and with her having tired herself out, my weight was more than enough to control her. She was still shouting, but I had time to look around, noticing her skirt had ridden to her waist, her white panties fully exposed. I took time to look at her ass, beautifully round and full........

She was screaming, but stopped suddenly - I had grabbed the back of her panties and pulled hard on them. They had disappeared between the cheeks of her ass, pulling tight between her crotch. The suddenly invasion had silenced her. I spoke to her in the sudden silence. "Unless you stop struggling and apologise now for slapping me, I am going to spank your ass."

There was a silence before she screamed her reply. "You wouldn't dare, you creep, get off me.................... aaaaaaaaaaag..........." The cheek of her ass started glowing red as I smacked her hard with my hand. Before she could move I smacked her hard again -- even my hand stung as I did it. This time she was defiant, and defiantly kept quiet, although it was clear from her tensing her body that she had felt it. I looked at Mike and was amazed -- he seemed almost unaware of what he was doing, his hand rubbing his crotch over his trousers............

As I looked at Mike I felt Joan struggle again. I spoke to her again. "Babe, you know what I'm going to do. I'm going to strap your ass -- but you can stop it at any moment -- all you have to say is: "Please stop." Then I'll give you one more, and stop."

Joan was still defiant. "Never. NEVER.............."

I undid the belt from my trousers, wound it around my hand and whipped the strap hard across her ass, leaving a bright red stripe. Joan screamed, but she kept silent in her defiance.

I whipped the strap three more times, and she fought to keep silent. On the fifth strap, she screamed. I waited, she began to sob...... I whipped the strap across her ass again. This time she screamed words "Please stop, please, please stop................" Her voice broke into sobs as she clenched and unclenched her bright red ass, fighting the pain.

I knew I had to keep my rules. I strapped her ass once more, as hard as I could, and she screamed again in pain, fighting the pain, squirming, sobbing. I turned to Mike: "Get some cream. Now." I noticed there was a damp spot on his trousers where his pre-cum had obviously leaked through. He disappeared to the bathroom and returned with the cream. I ordered him to remove her panties which he quickly did. I began to massage the cream into Joan's ass-cheeks.

For a couple of minutes I massaged her asscheeks, then began to rub my fingers between them. I was amazed to see her slowly spread her legs, allowing me to massage her freely between the cheeks. She jumped slightly when I let my fingers caress her asshole, but she didn't try to move or struggle. I could see between her legs -- her pussy was glistening with wetness.

I let me fingers caress her asshole for a few moments then slipped a finger inside her. I heard her whisper softly. "Please, no-one has ever taken me there." However, she made no attempt to close her legs...........

I whispered to her. "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to take you upstairs, strip you and shove my cock into your cunt.............. and maybe your ass as well..........."

I stood up and pulled her to her feet. I quickly lifted her into a fireman's lift, and headed to the stairs. I felt for a moment her body squirm, but then the feeling of being off the floor and being helpless made her frightened she would fall -- she stopped struggling and held on.

I carried Joan up the stairs to the bedroom I was using, and dropped her gently onto the bed. I leant forward and kissed her on the lips. At first she didn't respond, but suddenly I felt her lips soften, and as they did I thrust my tongue into her mouth. I felt her tongue responding.

I pulled my mouth away from hers, reached to the bottom of her tea-shirt and pulled it over her head. I reach behind her and unhooked her bra, throwing it across the room. Her breasts were amazing -- not large, but perfectly round, with two stiff nipples perched on each. I stared for a moment, before cupping them more gently, rolling her nipples between my finger and thumb. She groaned gently as I did it.

I got off her, stood beside the bed, then grabbed her ankles. I looked at her naked, then slowly began to prize her legs apart so she revealed her pussy to me. Her hand quickly moved to hide her treasures, but I ordered her to remove her hand. I stared hard, until she reluctantly began to take her hand away.

I leant forward, kissed her on her pussy, letting my tongue caress her lips, then plunged my tongue as far into her as I could. She was already sopping wet, but tasted amazing. As I let my tongue caress her clit I released her ankles, and quickly removed my trousers and pants. I moved my head up her body and was soon lying on her. I whispered to her "lick your pussy juice off my mouth." She ran her tongue around my mouth.

I felt my cock gently resting on her pussy, the tip of my cock nestling between her lips. "Invite me in" I ordered her.

There was a long pause as she squirmed under me, partly trying to get me off, partly rubbing herself on my cock. Then I heard her -- just. "Please fuck me" she whispered.

"Louder!"

She spoke louder: "Please fuck me."

I spoke again -- "Louder! I want Mike to hear. I want him to know what you are doing."

"PLEASE FUCK ME," she cried. "PLEASE FUCK ME HARD!"

I was sure Mike would have heard. I plunged my cock deeply into her, squeezing her tits as I did. Instantly she had wrapped her legs around me, thrusting her crotch up to meet mine. I slid my cock out, then in again. She groaned. I set up a Rhythm, feeling her wonderful went pussy squeezing around me cock.

Suddenly Joan spoke, desperately. "Your cock feels so good. Bigger than anything I've ever had. Just fuck me hard. Fast."

I needed no invitation, I fucked her hard, and heard her moaning in pleasure -- and it is certain Mike would have heard it as well. My cock was sliding in and out of her faster and faster. Suddenly as she was breathing harder and harder, she let out a scream, her body was thrashing in orgasm under me. It sent me over the edge -- I was pumping my cum deep into her, filling her as I felt her nails scratch my back in her abandoned orgasm.

We seemed to be cumming for ages, but at last we slumped down, me on top of her, my cock still in her but shrinking. At last I came out of her, but still lay on her, before rolling beside her.