Rob pried his wife's greedy little fingers off his crotch for the tenth time.
"I'd like nothing better, Mark," he tried to keep his composure. "But I was wondering, could you spot me a few, um, items. Until I can go shopping?"
Mark chuckled. "You're like the new dog owner bringing home his first puppy."
"Yeah, I guess so..."
Miranda's head was in his lap. She was rubbing her open mouth over his fly, trying to get as close as she could to his erection.
"You sound strange, Mark."
"Just a little ... distraction."
"Yeah," Mark laughed. "I'll bet."
Rob frowned. His infernal little nymph of a wife was getting the better of him. "Miranda," he spoke sharply. "I said no. Now sit up straight and put your hands in your lap."
Miranda did as she was told, though not without a slight whimper. The way she bit on her lower lip, suggested this was a turn-on, being told what to do.
"Sounds like you're getting the hang of things, Robert," Mark said.
Rob straightened himself, turning on the car. Damn it if he wasn't. "It's like you said, Mark, it's all natural."
"Indeed. So what is it you'd like for your wife?"
Rob looked her up and down, sternly. "Handcuffs," he decided. "For sure. and a whip, if you can spare one."
Miranda shivered at the mention of a whip. Something was definitely overcoming her. It had begun in Jeff Wright's office and had spiked a moment ago when he gave her an order to obey. Rob touched his cock. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life.
"I can get you a couple of good whips. A cane, too if you like."
"A cane, yes," he repeated for Miranda's benefit. "That would come in handy, thank you. What about some rope and chain maybe? And a collar? What about a gag?"
"Whoa, slow down, there, partner," Mark chided good naturedly. "You can't do it all in one night. I'll tell you what, you stop by my house, and I'll have Erin prepare a special bag for you to use on your new pet."
Rob put the car in drive, backing out of the parking space. "That would be super. Would I be pushing it if I said I was on the way as we speak?"
"Not at all. Erin will see to it immediately. The children are away today, on a play date. It's not too late to borrow Erin, you know. Maybe you'd like a more experienced slave to help you with your new one?"
"I'll have my hands full with this slave, but thanks."
Rob disconnected. Miranda was hanging on his every word, her breath catching. She was so fucking gorgeous like this. Helpless and aroused. He decided to take full advantage. "Take off your jacket," he said. "And your shoes."
Miranda slipped the blazer off her shoulders. She pushed her breasts out, invitingly. He waited until she had slipped off the pumps and then ordered her to press her toes into the carpeted floor mat.
"Legs apart," he specified. "Skirt up, at your waist."
Miranda had to lift herself to pull up the hem of the pleated skirt. Rob drank in the sight as her thighs came into view and finally her crotch, barely covered in a pair of pink panties.
"Legs wider."
She obeyed, gaping her thighs.
"Put your seat back. Grip the headrest."
Miranda was practically panting as she put her hands over her head, simulating bondage. "Rob, touch me," she begged, looking up at him from her nearly horizontal position. "Please?"
"Why should I, love? You've been a very bad girl, haven't you?"
"Yes," she gulped. "But I'm sorry for all of it."
"I accept your apology." He lay his hand on top of her silk covered mound. She was pulsing, wet. "But I still intend to punish you."
Miranda moved against his hand, wantonly. "God, what you're doing to me..."
He delivered a slap to the meat of her thigh. She yelped, looking down at the red mark. "Son of a bitch," she moved her hands. "Look what you did to me."
Rob squeezed the sore area, holding her so firmly she had no chance to pry his hand loose with her own.
"Let go," she squealed.
"I'm not going to let go, Miranda. Until I decide to." Rob turned a corner, amazed at how easy this was coming to him. Dominating his beautiful wife for the first time, while driving a car no less.
"I'll scream," she threatened.
"You could," he agreed. "If you really want to risk having the police stop us. They would probably arrest me, if that was your wish."
Miranda's pouted her lips. "You know I don't want you going to jail."
"No? Then maybe you would like me stop at the next corner and let you out? No strings attached? A full fifty percent of my assets and alimony."
She stamped her pretty bare heels in a show of feminine futility. "I don't want a divorce, either, and you know it, damn you."
"In that case, it seems to me you have two choices. Either obey me, or continue to suffer the consequences."
"Why are you being such a bully?" she demanded. "You were so loving and forgiving back in Jeff's office. Was that all a show?"
Rob maintained the pressure on his wife's naked thigh. "No, Miranda," I meant every word I said, but I also told you things would change. You said it yourself. We need to live differently."
"I know," she grimaced. "I just didn't think it would feel ... like this."
"Like what?"
"Like pain ... and pleasure all mixed up."
"That's how it is for slaves, at least pleasure slaves."
"Is that what I am? But I don't want to live like Erin."
"Actually, you will have it harder than her, at least in the beginning. Since we have no kids now, I'll be able to keep you under tight sexual control 24/7."
"Fuck," she cried in exasperation.
Rob pinched harder. "Profanity is not permitted, young lady."
"What do you mean young lady?" she protested. "I'm two years older than you."
"I'll talk down to you however I wish, Miranda. You have no more pride, so get used to it."
"I don't think I like you right now."
"You don't have to like me Miranda you just have to be obedient. Now where do your hands belong?"
She gripped the head rest once more, leaving herself defenseless against his hand.
"Good girl." Rob released her thigh. He rubbed it gently, to let the circulation return. "Never forget, Miranda, whatever I do to you, I love you, and I will look after you. You'll see that. I am going to be so totally, absolutely in your life from this point forward."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she grumbled.
Rob couldn't help but smile. He really did love her more than life itself. They were going to have so much fun. Deciding to treat himself, while also teasing her, he slipped his hand up under the bottom of her panties. "You can move," he told her. "But your hands stay where they are – and you can't come. If you do, I'll take you on the Interstate and make you masturbate for passing truckers."
He wasn't sure he'd have the balls to do that, but the very possibility was enough to fill the car with electricity.
"Oh, you bastard," she sighed. "You total ... bastard." Her eyes slid closed as his fingers moved under the silk. "Yes, yes, fuck me with your fingers, please? Oh, please, please."
Rob found her clitoris, sending her through the roof. "I need to," she cried out, her body contorting, her breasts pushing against her blouse, her torso well off the seat. "I need to come ... please ... let me, Rob."
Rob nearly crashed into the car in front of them as they approached a red light. A guy in a pickup to the right was looking at them, bug-eyed. "I said no, little girl. Are you aching for extra punishment?"
"No, Rob," she thrashed her head.
"It's 'Master'," he decided. "You've lost the privilege of using my name."
Miranda groaned, touched to her soul. "M-master..."
He took his fingers from her drenched pussy, leaving her on the razor's edge. Her scream was a silent, sex-soaked sob. He didn't doubt she would do anything for an orgasm at this point.
"That's enough
, girl."
"Yes, Master," she whimpered.
He presented his fingers to her lips. She lifted her head to reach them and sucked them clean.
"Good girl," he patted her head. "You may pull your skirt down."
She did so, confused and half blown out of her mind. It was the most humiliating compliment possible, but it seemed to have aroused her even more. "Thank you, Master," she replied, her mouth slack with desire.
"Pull up your seat, Miranda. We'll get to Mark's house in a couple of minutes. You'll run out and fetch the bag Erin has. I want you to check that each of the items is there. Do you remember what we're getting?"
"A whip," she exhaled. "And chains, and rope and a collar. And a cane, too."
"And?"
Miranda blinked. "Did I forget something? Oh, wait, I remember, the hand cuffs. And a gag."
"That wasn't what I meant."
Miranda stared blankly.
"You forgot to call me Master."
"I did? Oh, Master, I'm sorry. No hard feelings?"
"And have you forgotten, my lovely, what I said about apologies?"
The look on her face told him she remembered all too well.
"Apologies are always accepted," he filled in the blank himself. "But they do not preclude punishment."
"Not the thing you said," she begged. "Please, Master, don't make me play with myself where anyone can drive by and see."
"I had something else in mind. Unbutton your top and expose your left breast."
"Yes, Master," said his new slave miserably.
Miranda opened her blouse just enough to get at her bra. She had nice full breasts and wore a skimpy bra. It was an easy enough matter for her to lift the globe out of its haltering cup. He noted the perfect swell, the delicious pinkness of her aureole.
And of course the bud in the center was already peaked and blood filled.
"Pinch your nipple," he commanded.
Miranda did so, far too delicately.
"Would you like me to do it for you?"
"No, Master." She pincered it harder, making herself wince.
"Count to ten," he said.
Miranda did so, haltingly. "Ten," she cried at long last.
"Let go."
She did so, sweat dripping from her forehead, trickling all the way to her belly button. "Master," she gasped. "Where did you learn all this from?"
"From the magazine. My imagination. And Mark."
"It's like you've been waiting to do this, like you were born for it," she exclaimed.
He waited a couple of seconds for her to correct herself, when she didn't he had her take her out the other breast. "This is the punishment for failing to call me Master," he explained. "You will receive it each and every time, until you learn."
Miranda leaned her head back, counting out her ten seconds of nipple agony, her own fingers administering the sentence. He had no doubt she was doing it hard, harder than he would do, himself.
The slave trains herself. That was something Mark had told him. Or was it the magazine.
"May I cover myself, Master?" she asked when she was done.
"Yes."
"Thank you, Master."
Rob noted the sudden docility. Was it a permanent change? He seriously doubted it. Especially as he intended to push her buttons pretty hard. "When we get to Mark's, you'll get out and get the bag. You'll go over each item with Erin, making sure they are all there. If I were you, I'd make sure nothing was missing."
"Yes, Master."
They rode the rest of the way in silence. He could see her wanting to say something, but debating in her own mind if she would get in trouble for it. It was a delight, watching her at war with herself, feeling overpowered before she ever opened her mouth.
There was a short rain shower on the way, just enough to leave puddles. Miranda asked to be allowed to put on her shoes to go to the door, but he refused, telling her they would stay right where they were.
"Little slave feet won't get ruined by water," he said, making a point of parking a foot from the curb. "Unlike that expensive footwear of yours. Or should I say mine since I now own everything in the marriage, you included."
Miranda opened the door, looking down at the steady stream of water running down to the storm drain at the end of the cul-de-sac. "Can you at least pull up the driveway ... Master?"
"Out, girl," he pointed. "A little water won't kill you."
Miranda stepped down, gingerly. The water was ankle deep and dirty gray. He let her get a few feet up the driveway before calling her back. "You forgot to shut the door."
She came back fuming. Getting her feet wet yet again, she slammed it and stormed off.
She would pay for that later.
Rob pulled up the driveway right behind her just to rub it in.
A couple of seconds later it started pouring.
Excellent, he smiled to himself, the rudiments of Miranda's next punishment already forming in his mind.
Sitting back to relax, he turned on the radio.
If he had any complaint about the new arrangement it was only that they hadn't come up with it a long time ago.
* * * *
Miranda walked up the driveway, mortified. The nerve of Rob. This was his boss' house, his boss' wife and they lived in an expensive neighborhood to boot. She felt like the Little Match girl, with bare, dirty wet feet.
"Mother fucker," she exclaimed as she looked over her shoulder to see Rob driving right up after her. He was taunting her, that's all. She hated him for it – but she hated herself a whole more for how it made her feel.
For the first time, it was really sinking in. He was serious about this. He intended to keep her subjugated. Far from being horrified, she was feeling a dark attraction to this wicked new lifestyle. Every part of her was alive, and singing with need. She craved his touch, his commands. The more it thwarted her will and humiliated her, the more she felt dependent on him.
Damn it, why didn't he just take her home and make love to her? She would submit to him, without any cuffs or whips.
Erin answered the door wearing a green and white checked skirt, white shoes and a light green, sleeveless blouse. Her hair was up, totally perfect. With her pearls and white apron she looked like some TV mother from the 1950's.
And here was Miranda, her hair hanging limp, her clothing disheveled, her feet soiled. Not to mention the obscene state of her womanhood, her pussy throbbing and dripping under the skirt and soaked-through panties. "I'm so sorry to disturb you," she apologized right off the bat.
"That isn't necessary," Erin smiled warmly. "Won't you please come in?"
"I'd hate to ruin your floors."
At this rate, she would drip come on them. God, Erin could probably smell her in heat.
"I scrub them twice a day," Erin reassured her with perfect grace. "A little mud won't be a problem. Please," she reiterated. "Enter my husband's house."
Miranda stepped meekly over the threshold. "I know you're wondering why I look like this..."
Erin touched her arm. "No need to explain. My husband told me about the change in your marriage. You have a master now, and your appearance reflects his will."
"Yes," she said dryly, shifting her feet on the cold marble. "Unfortunately my new master has rather a warped sense of humor when it comes to presenting me in public."
"You're in training," said Erin. "You have to expect this."
"Was Mark like this with you in the beginning?"
She laughed lightly. "He still is. Only the children and the needs of his profession restrain him from treating me as he would really like. If he had his druthers, I would be naked twenty four hours a day, chained and collared, on my hands and knees in the dirt, begging for scraps."
Miranda felt a huge pulsing in her pussy. "But that would be awful," she exclaimed, trying to hide her excitement at the prospect.
"It's how he loves me. Completely and absolutely. No mercy, no compromise, I must be his, to do with as he pleases. I'm his b
eloved, his belonging, and doing those things to me is just how he proves it. I can't describe what that feels like. It's ... sublime."
Miranda considered Erin's words, and the feelings that went with them. Certainly Rob had stirred up a lot of them on the way over here. He had driven her to total distraction, making her ready to tear off his clothing and hers both, or even her own hair by the roots if that's what it took to obtain satisfaction.
But there was nothing she could do. Rob was in control, and the stronger he got the weaker she got. The scary part was, the equation worked. She was feeling that old passion for him, and a whole lot more besides. "I'll admit," she said. "Seeing that look in his eye, when he made me get out of the car barefoot, stepping into a gutter full of water, knowing how furious I was, gave me monster butterflies. He wasn't trying to hurt me ... it was like he was just playing? Is that the right word?"
"It's the perfect word, Miranda. You are his new toy. The perfect plaything for a healthy, red blooded male."
Miranda shivered. "I'm not sure I like all the implications."
"You won't always, but you must have some proclivity for the lifestyle, or you would never have been attracted to a man with latent dominance in his genes."
"I do go out of my mind thinking what he can do to me. It's weird, like a part of me fights it, but another part eggs him on."
"That sounds like me, Erin smiled. "A long time ago. I used to test Mark, to see if he was strong enough. Once he caught me smoking. I had to go cold turkey – a week in the cage on bread and water, only a half hour out a day for exercise."
"That's some plan for quitting," Miranda admitted.
"That's an understatement. Here are the items you're looking for, by the way." Erin gestured to the suitcase in the foyer.
"It's so ... large," said Miranda, imagining all the torments inside.
"That's nothing, Miranda. We have a whole secret room full of equipment. These are just some odds and ends."
"I have to go through the bag," Miranda explained. "Rob wants me to be sure it's all here – I mean my master does," she corrected herself hastily, feeling a twinge in her still aching nipples.
What was wrong with her? He wasn't even here and she was reacting as though punishment were imminent.
"Of course," said Erin. "Will you two be staying for tea afterward? My husband instructed me to prepare some."
OBEDIENTLY EVER AFTER II Page 10
