A Spring Cleaning Ch. 02

"What's a girl need to do to get a drink around here?" she said.

"Sorry" he said "I was just finishing the dishes" as he peeled the long rubber gloves off that protected the leather wrist cuffs she insisted he wear at all times.

"It seems it's always about you, doesn't it?" she challenged, as he brought her wine and set it on the table. He turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Stay." she ordered. He froze in his tracks and turned to face her.

"Present." she growled. She had conditioned him over the years to respond without hesitation, relying on the crop to illustrate negative response, and a gentle hand, and a soft touch to reinforce the positive.

Nevertheless, she had to admit; she enjoyed restraining him over the stool, or standing with hands locked over his head and reminding him of her dominion over him with regular whippings.

Now, the current image caused a stirring in her pussy, as she surveyed her male, standing as trained, his cuffed legs spread to allow access to his caged cock and plugged ass, cuffed wrists, and hands clasped behind his head.

The wide purple collar he wore didn't allow him to bow his as deeply as she would have preferred however he bent slightly at the waist to compensate. He remained motionless as he focused his gaze on the carpet in front of him, steeling himself for the sweet torment that was certain to follow.

His cock swelled in its cage, betraying the deep need to submit she had programmed in him. The constant pressure his plug exerted on his prostate served to keep him in a state of semi-arousal at all times, but the prospect of offering his pain to his beautiful wife, for her mere amusement made his imprisoned cock begin to weep.

She sat back, putting her bare feet on the hassock, inches from his tortured member. She swirled her wine, inspecting the amber fluid and cocked an eyebrow.

"You're making a mess, slut," she observed. "I'd have thought you had enough around here to clean." She taunted, "and more than enough work for you tongue."

His cock, now painfully erect in its cage, the locking ring squeezing his balls as his stem extended obscenely from its base, now hung directly over his owners feet. He clenched his abdominals in vain attempt to stop the drip. This only served to push his plug harder into his P- spot, encouraging more weeping.

She watched as another drop of pre-cum slowly made it's way from the tip of the cage. As it hit her instep, she reflected that while she could often make him "cum" from the whip, the best he could do from the strap-on was a pathetic drip of pre-cum like this.

"I was thinking of fucking you tonight." she said "but it looks as though you need a tune up as well. Do you want me to fuck you?" She asked.

He desperately wanted to be whipped and fucked. She'd denied, edged, ruined and milked him to keep him in a constant state of arousal, but no chance of relief. He longed for the sting of the crop and craved replacing the persistent pressure of his plug with the invasive stimulation of her 9" dildo - but he'd also learned to choose his words wisely when responding to a clearly loaded question.

Hoping for the best, "If it would please you, ma'am" he replied.

She laughed at his response. "You are a clever little whore, aren't you!"

"Clean up this mess, then get your butt in the bedroom and prepare yourself," she said, lifting her fluid spattered foot. On cue he dropped to his knees and began to clean her foot with his tongue.

She pushed his face away with her foot. "Furniture and carpet too."

Without a moment's hesitation he turned his attention to the hassock, and then used his tongue to lick the carpet clean. He wasn't certain he'd dripped anything on the carpet, but his desire for some contact with his beautiful wife, no matter how demeaning propelled him, the thrill from the humiliation of licking the floor like an animal to please his master, threatening to make him drip even more.

As he prepared himself, she went to her closet and picked out a pair of black pumps with 4" steel heels. Coupled with her black tights, lace bra and 9" strap-on, she was a submissive's wet dream. Not that she cared much at all about his fantasy, the outfit made her feel powerful, and the shoes, though very sexy, gave her the extra height she needed. She was going to tie him, hands over his head facing the wall, and the extra 4" would give her a better range with her crop, and we she fucked him, just the right attack angle to allow the base of her dildo to stimulate her clitoris. Her rule of thumb for pegging was that she always came.

She smiled to herself as she slipped into her pumps. It was a pair of high heels similar to these that started her down the road to domination and discipline.

He'd always been horny. Before they were married he couldn't keep his hands off her. As they progressed through life with kids, schools and careers they fell into a familiar pattern of regular, uneventful sex that always ended in his cumming and her rolling over to sleep in the wet spot. She and her friends joked about it, everyone seeming to have accepted this was the way it was - but deep down she began to resent, not him, but the routineness, the utilitarianism and lack of intimacy. She needed more from him, but was at a loss of how to approach the subject, or even what a solution looked like.

It was at a retirement party for someone at his work when it twigged. They didn't have much occasion to go out dressed up during those years, he wore a suit and she ran around the neighborhood taking kids to hockey and school. For this occasion she'd decided to update her look and picked up black, fitted pencil skirt, just below the knee, a business like white blouse and a pair of black leather pumps with a high heel.

The effect the outfit had on him was, to her mind, amazing. He literally stammered when she stepped out of the bathroom ready to go. She couldn't help but notice his eyes returning again and again to her feet. He stepped forward her to grab her, but she'd just fixed her hair and make-up. She remembered clearly how she was able to control him with one finger to his lips and said; "not now big boy, we can talk when we get home."

"Yes ma'am." he said. He'd never reacted that way nor said anything remotely like that since they met.

The party was a blur, but importantly, he couldn't keep help but keep a hand on her back, running back and forth with drinks and appys for her, ensuring he introduced her and made sure she was comfortable. He treated her like a princess that night and convinced her to leave early. All the way home in the car he had his hand on her knee and asked questions about the kids and her friends he usually rarely bothered about.

When they got home he literally dragged her the bedroom and sat her on the bed. Kneeling before he took her foot in his hand, and kissed her shoe. She was astonished. She was even more astonished as he kissed the other shoe, and then discarding his coat and tie, he worked up her legs placing kisses along each and pushing her back on the bed, lifted her skirt and began to lick her pussy. He hadn't gone down on her for years, and this was the first orgasm he'd given her since their first child was born. She was amazed.

Over the next few weeks she experimented. Whenever she wore her heels, with jeans, or dresses - or nothing else. The effect on him was the same, and remarkable.

He would drop to his knees, kiss her feet and lick her shoes and eventually worship her to orgasm after orgasm. She felt she'd found the key.

It was sealed one Friday afternoon when he came home from work and the kids were gone. She wore a short sundress with heels. When he came into the kitchen, his eyes immediately dropped to her feet.

"Do you like my shoes?" she said.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Would you like to kiss my shoes?" she asked.

"Yes." he said.

"What would you do to kiss my shoes?" she asked.

"Anything." he replied.

Screwing up her courage, she went for it. "Strip," she ordered.

He almost fell over himself, struggling to get out of his suit. He left his clothes in a heap and stood naked before her in the kitchen.

"Kneel", she said.

He dropped to his knees, his cock huge and purple.

"Masturbate for me", she ordered and stood before him as he began to stroke his penis.

"Hurry up and cum!" she ordered.

He furiously beat his cock over and over until finally he exploded, shooting cum on the floor in front of her, invariably getting some on her shoe.

At that point in the relationship she had never heard of FLR, or female domination, but the scene excited and aroused her. "You may kiss my shoes" she said, and watched as he stayed on all fours, carefully avoiding the puddle of spunk on the floor.

"You missed a spot", she giggled as he worked around a drop of cum on her shoe. "If you want me to keep wearing shoes like this, you better be sure they're clean."

He looked up at her from the floor, smiled and licked the cum off her shoe.

It was too much. She could feel her juices begin to run down her thigh. Grabbing him by the hair, she pulled him to his feet and led him into to the living room, where she lay back on the couch and he again knelt before her while she guided his tongue to her clit. She clearly remembered cumming four times on the couch.

That changed everything for them. He became much more attentive, and while he was at work, she began researching.

She started off searching for information about male shoe and foot obsession and links between shoes and male arousal. This naturally led her to websites, blogs and tumblr sites devoted to FLR, bondage and discipline, chastity and CBT. As she learned more she began reaching out to some people on-line for advice and clarification, at first anonymously and eventually as a member of various groups.

It comforted her to learn that her feelings were widely shared, and while breaking the norm, many couples were living happily in relationships where the female came first, in every respect.

Getting him into long-term chastity was simple. She just told him that this was how it was going to be. By restricting his cock and controlling his orgasms, she'd followed simple steps of positive and negative reinforcement to achieve the results she wanted. He loved it. Removing the responsibility of leading the relationship and placing himself in her service freed him to concentrate on her, his own well-being, family and work. He could not have been happier. She couldn't have been more fulfilled.

He was particularly happy this night. Hands tied above his head, facing the wall, blindfolded and gagged, she'd also attached the spreader to his ankle cuffs, then tied a thin cord from his balls to the eyelet in the centre of the spreader, pulling his balls down hard. "To help keep your butt where I want it", she said.

His cock fought against the cage, scraping the wall in front of him. The last thing he saw before she'd blindfolded him was his gorgeous wife, in high steel heeled shoes that made him drool, black tights and a sexy black bra. Her 9" strap-on was at the ready and she held her 4' crop in her mouth as she tightened his cuffs above his head.

His arousal was based on mix of the vision of his wife, the tight predicament bondage in which she'd placed him and the knowledge that by offering his body for abuse and his ass for her cock, she'd achieve orgasm. Over the years she had programmed the feedback loop of his pleasure being entirely dependent on her pleasure, and he eagerly presented himself to her in whatever manner she demanded. Her pleasure was his pleasure.

She began slowly; snapping the flexible dressage crop across his well muscled back, working systematically lower to his lower back, butt and thighs. She increased the rhythm and intensity. His broad back and butt presented a canvas for her to paint her masterpiece. As the welts grew and his ass reddened, she became more and more aroused. She was aware of her strap-on rubbing against her swollen pussy as she beat her husband. Lost in her arousal she began to concentrate her efforts on his ass.

For his part, he was glad to be tightly restrained and gagged. At first, as always, the pain was almost intolerable and if not tied, he'd have run. But as the whipping continued and increased in intensity, the pain became secondary and he began to feel the growing euphoria as her whip caused the dopamine effect to take charge. As he slipped into subspace, he reflected that it was amusing that he knew at an intellectual level exactly what was happening to him, but he lost that thought and attempted to push his ass back to accept the next blow. He didn't know it, but he was dripping cum.

She was breathing harder and feeling more and more aroused, his pain driving her forward and the strap-on reminding her of her desire. She noticed cum dripping from his cage, and she knew he was oblivious to it. Not that she cared at this point what he was feeling, only that she was able to control him like an animal with nothing more than a whip. It filled her with a feeling of power and authority.

Dropping the whip, she moved toward him, caressing his back and reddened ass. With one hand, she traced the welts on his back; with the other she reached down and pulled his plug out of his ass. He gasped as she left him empty, and clenched his ass in response, longing to be filled again.

Standing in her heels, she was tall enough to speak in his ear. Her hands slipped around his chest and she pinched his nipples, causing him to grunt in his gag. His chest was covered in a thin coat of sweat and drool, and behind the blindfold, his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Don't worry, slut", she whispered in his ear "Mommy's going to fill your horny boi cunt soon". He groaned and pushed his ass back against her, begging for her cock in the only way he could.

Stepping away, she rolled a condom on her cock, applied a generous dollop of lube to her member and his butthole.

Moving back toward him, her high shoes meant she needed to crouch just a little to find the entrance to his ass, and when she stood, she impaled him on her cock in one smooth motion. He grunted at the sudden invasion.

Virtually immobilized by her cock and his bonds, he became her fucktoy, unable to respond or participate in his rape beyond grunting like a beast in heat.

She drove in again and again, pushing her rod past his prostate and into his bowels. While he derived little pleasure from the invasion, beyond the comfort of contact with his wife and fullness in his ass, the constant, rhythmic contact with her already aroused pussy slowly drove her closer and closer to climax.

When she finally came, she drove into him harder four or five times, then suddenly withdrew, leaving his ass gaping and winking, begging for more.

She collapsed back on the bed, catching her breath and basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. As she kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her harness, she admired her bound husband, proudly wearing her marks, chest heaving as he came down from his high, dripping a combination of sweat, drool and cum. She was tempted to leave tied all night and allow him to reflect, but he needed to be up early. Tomorrow was Monday, his schedule demanded he get to the gym and prepare her breakfast before he began work.

Compromising, she left him hanging while she stripped down and went to shower and get ready for bed. When she came back, freshened, satisfied and wearing her flannel pjs, she reached up and released one of his hands.

"Get yourself untied, clean up and get to bed," she said. "What do you say?" she demanded.

"Thank you, goddess" he mumbled through his gag. She smiled and kissed his cheek, then slid into bed and drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.