Julie Becomes John's Pet Ch. 02

**This story makes a lot more sense if you read Chapter One first. Click my profile for the link to that chapter, and THANKS to everyone who read it-I'm happy and proud that over 10,000 people read the first installment on the first weekend it was posted!

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"So, Julie...why did you do it?"

That was the question swimming through my head throughout the next day. The more specific questions were "why did I let John use me like a whore?", "why were you so turned on by this?", and most importantly "why have you *already* decided that you'd let John have his way with you again?".

Let's discuss my husband Nate for a moment. He's away working in New York three or four nights a week. When he's home, he's either too busy watching sports on TV, too busy getting drunk, or both. I've accepted that Nate is a functional alcoholic. I've tried to get him to rehab- we have the money and insurance to do so- but he has consistently refused. He has his good points, but his priorities are his job, his possessions, his kids, his sports, and of course, his booze. I've completely fallen off his radar, and I'd guess we've had sex an average of five or six years over the past ten years.

And I've tried so hard to change that! One year for Valentine's Day I bought Nate a pair of handcuffs, with a note saying that tonight, I'd do whatever he wanted. All his wild imagination could muster up was five minutes of missionary-position sex without any foreplay. Those handcuffs have been collecting dust at the bottom of a drawer for years, and serve as a bitter reminder of an awful night. I'm 38 years old- biologically, I am in my sexual prime- but I am stuck in a sexless relationship. As soon as John moved in, something had awakened inside of me.

Back to the present- the day had dragged on as I waited for John to come home. When he finally arrived I knew I would have to muster up all of my courage to go up the stairs and confront him. I had dressed carefully that morning- jeans, a low-cut top that was casual enough to make someone believe that I wasn't "dressing up", and my best matching bra and panties. Taking such time to put my wardrobe so carefully together was an admission onto itself- that despite my being angry with John on some level, I was open to the idea of something else happening that night.

John's car finally pulled up, and I ducked down while watching him through my bedroom window. Thankfully, he was alone. I looked at the clock on my stove, and set the timer for fifteen minutes. I'd planned to read a book until the alarm went off, then I'd go straight upstairs without having a chance to get nervous.

The moment finally arrived and I ran upstairs and knocked on John's door. As he gave me a knowing smile, he invited me in. I sat on the couch, looked directly into his eyes, and told him that I wanted to talk about last night.

He sat back and smiled. "You mean you want to talk about when I squirted my initials onto your face and sent you home?"

I was taken aback, and all of my gameplans and strategies were immediately rendered useless. I quietly asked him why it had to be that way...why he had to make me feel used and degraded.

John gave me a serious look, and thought before he spoke. "I had a date tonight, and cancelled it. I wanted to see if you'd come up. I knew that if you didn't, that you were truly angry. But you're here, and that tells me you want more".

I threw caution to the wind and told him that I indeed wanted more, but it would be nice if I could be treated like a lady and not feel used.

John gave me a stern look. "Julie, you were using me for weeks before last night. You used me for company, and to feel good about yourself".

For whatever reason I wanted to burst into tears and cry on his shoulder- but I knew I that wouldn't be the right move, so I did everything I could to maintain my composure.

John looked me up and down, getting an especially good look at my chest, before continuing. "Julie, you're attractive. But I have a lot of women interested in me, women that want to have sex with me. And they don't come with your baggage, being a married woman and all. Why should I choose you over any of them?"

I didn't know what to say. I burned with humiliation- I was ready to offer this man strings-free sex, and he was rejecting me. I finally asked him what I could do to set me apart, and what could I do to make him interested?

John thought for a minute and finally said "I'll give you a day to think about it- we'll call it an audition. Come back tomorrow night and we'll see how you perform".

John then rose and made a motion for me to follow him. Once again, he was dismissing me and ushering me out the door, the ultimate thing that made me feel like shit.

I told him to have a good night, and began heading down the stairs. I then heard John call my name behind me, and I spun around. Hope rose within me.

"Do me a favor", he casually said. "Just in case either of us change our minds before tomorrow night, I'd like to have a look at those tits right now".

I sighed inwardly and thought about it. The voice inside my head said "just do it". I looked at John and slowly pulled my v-neck up over my head, then hung it on the handrail. I paused for a moment, posing in only my black bra and jeans. Then I reached back, unhooked my bra, pulled the straps down, and stood three stairs down from John with my bare 34-Cs dangling in front of me.

John then asked me to put both my hands behind my head so that he'd have a better look, and I willingly complied. It was an odd feeling- it was as if my hands were being tied behind my head...by no one but me.

John looked at my breasts for a few moments. He then politely thanked me and shut the door. I felt like such an idiot standing there with my hands behind my head displaying my breasts as he turned and closed that door.

I felt more embarrassment and rejection as put my bra and shirt back on in the stairwell. I undressed for this man- I showed him my body, and dare I say it's a pretty good one- and he turned me away.

Then it dawned on me- last night, when John took off his towel and showed me his cock, I lost control, and he was in charge. When I disrobed in front of him, I wanted him to lose control. I wanted him to come down the stairs, wrap his arms around me, take me upstairs and make passionate love to me. He didn't- by inspecting me and then turning his back on me, he again demonstrated that *HE* truly was in charge. He and he alone would decide the nature of our relationship.

I walked back into my home with only one thing in mind- I was going to make John mine. I would do anything I could think of to turn him on. I'd do anything he thought of that turned him on. The other women that were interested in him were my opponents, and I would defeat them. I would give him anything that they would not. I would try harder, fuck better, be sexier, suck longer, whatever it took.

The man upstairs was going to be mine, and I was going to be his. Nothing and no one was going to stop me. I had a single target in life: I'd do anything to make it happen, and I'd do anything for John to allow it to happen. All I wanted was John, and he could dictate the terms. In a way, knowing that got me even more turned on.

I spent much of the next 24 hours scouring the internet for ideas on what I'd do for John during our next meeting. I also made a brief shopping trip. I'll share all of the fun details in the next installment.

***I'll be adding to this story soon. John and I love feedback and we'd love to hear what you think so far.