by Zoey Marcel
“You were flirting with that cowboy again,” the husband on the screen accused as he pushed his pretend wife onto the bed facedown with her dress still flipped up.
“I can’t help it. I want to be faithful, but I can’t control my body. Help me,” the wife pleaded. “Please.”
“I intend to.”
The woman cried out as he spanked her hard with his belt, making her pink ass redden and bruise beneath the fierce discipline.
Jill cringed at the force and sound, feeling oddly aroused as much as she was indignant over such a tyrannical prick.
The way Ben moaned and stroked himself while he watched set off sparks of fire in her bloodstream.
“Who is your Master?” the man asked.
“You are, Sir,” the woman replied, groaning as he hit her bare ass with his belt repeatedly.
“That’s right, woman. Your place is in the home, not out flirting with other men.”
The actress on the screen was good at pretending to cry. She looked every inch like a remorseful housewife sobbing over her punishment. “Yes, Sir, it won’t ever happen again. Use me as you will.”
The man drove his big cock into her vagina and the woman let out a long, deep moan. “Who owns this cunt, slut?”
“You do, Sir.”
Ben’s breathless cry of approval sounded hushed and provocative as he beat his dick around and groped his balls.
Jill felt a spasm in her pussy and a surge of dampness when she saw the pre-cum trickle down his shaft in pearly drops that called to her watering mouth.
“You don’t want to work, do you, wife? All you want is for me to fuck you,” the asshole on screen said.
The ditz whimpered and writhed beneath his manic fucking. “No, Sir. A career leaves me empty and unfulfilled. You’re the only true joy I’ve ever known.”
Jill’s lips parted when the woman’s words struck a chord in her. The seven years she’d spent without Ben during their separation had been emptier and left her feeling more lost than the six years they’d spent married together, even during the last three when they fought a lot.
It shouldn’t be that way, though. She’d gotten rich and practically famous from her success as a personal trainer to celebrities. With Ben she’d never been anything more than a wife and fitness trainer at a small gym in Jackson. Why did that mean so much more than success and money? Why was his smile more important than fame and applause? An amorous look from him couldn’t buy her diamonds, but it carried something that was far more priceless.
Was it possible to be so fulfilled and have so much peace living such a simple, controlled existence instead of the bright lights and big-city nights?
She shoved the question aside. No. She didn’t want that. And this was a fucking porn film. There were no valuable life lessons to be learned here.
“You’ll make my babies and raise them, won’t you, little wife?” the man on the screen asked in a commanding tone.
“Yes, Ben, as many as you want. I need your cum.”
Jill blinked. What the hell did that actress just call him? The man was an actor, but she found it funny how Ben had actually found a film where the lead man had the same name as him. He probably got a big kick out of that.
The actor pulled out and spread her buttocks. His lecherous eyes gawked at the quivering anus he exposed.
“Oh no!” The actress struggled weakly, but it really was pathetic. “You can’t! I’m a good girl.”
“Not anymore. This is Daddy’s asshole. Say it.”
The woman gasped when the man tongued her crinkled back entry. “This is your asshole, Daddy.”
“And you want me to fuck it good and hard until we both come over and over again, don’t you, my hot little cunt?”
The woman moaned and Jill nearly did, too. Her hand went down into her panties and she almost whimpered at the sensitivity of her hot, swollen folds.
“Oh yes, Sir!” the woman begged him. “Fuck me, please! Fill my ass with all your hot cum.”
Ben grunted and jerked his cock faster, inducing an emission of more pre-cum that dribbled down his thick, angry shaft.
Jill’s pussy flooded and ached beyond any level she was willing to tolerate. She needed to come.
“He wasn’t as good as me. Say it!” the man ordered.
The woman sobbed again. “He wasn’t. I couldn’t come with him, and I cried when he left. Nobody is as good in bed as you. I only want you, Ben.”
“I don’t ever want to see you with that son of a bitch or hear his name ever again.”
Hadn’t Ben said something along those very lines to her downstairs about Judah?
“Yes, Sir, I hate him. You’re all I want,” the woman said.
The camera zoomed and caught the actor rubbing the plump, pink clitoris of the actress. Jill’s cunt gushed with hot, damp arousal when she saw the broad fingers fucking up into the soaked pussy and heard the wet, dirty sounds of her being finger-banged.
The man stopped fucking her ass and used his free hand to yank her head up by a wad of her hair. “Tell me what you want, sunshine.”
Jill got goose bumps. Sunshine was a pet name Ben called her.
“I want to be your slave and your whore. I want you to punish me, command me, and fuck me however you like whenever you like. I need to be controlled, Ben. Please, own me completely,” the woman implored.
The man rubbed her clit faster and his voice turned husky when her tortured cry of passion filled the air. “I will own you, babe. I’ll own you so completely you’ll never leave me or cheat on me again. I know your body, your every fantasy, and every thought. I know what it is you really want and need, and I’m not going to let you fight it anymore, sweetheart, because you need to be controlled.”
Jill felt the tiny hairs stand up on her arms. This seemed very familiar. Some of the pet names were a bit sweet for porn, and the dialogue was becoming too tender for it. What kind of porn film was this? It sounded more like a real-life conversation between an estranged husband and wife.
“Please. I want to be your housewife and your little biscuit-maker,” the actress begged him. “Enslave me, please. I need to be put in my place, because you know what’s best for us and I trust you.”
The man fucked her ass hard again as he got her off, grunting at the spasms of her asshole wrapped tightly around his cock. “Good girl. That’s it. Come for me. Suck your man’s cock with your ass. This is what you were meant for, Jill.”
Jill’s eyes bugged out and before she could stop herself she let out a panicked scream.
Ben yelled out and jumped to his feet in alarm when he saw her. “Jesus, Jill!”
She remembered to take her hand out of her yoga pants and dashed out of the room.
“Jill, wait!”
She hurried down the stairs in shock. They were only actors, but that script had obviously been designed by Ben. Customized porn? Well, that was interesting.
“Jill, stop! Let me explain.”
Ben came stomping downstairs, buttoning his jeans on the way. His obvious boner tented the crotch, and she subconsciously wondered if he’d thrown them on without putting his boxers on first. A commando police officer. Mmm.
She stopped moving and turned to face him, making sure her tone was loud and threatening. “There’s no need to explain. I thought you’d changed, but you haven’t. You’re even more chauvinistic than before.”
“Jill, it’s not like that, just—”
“You lying bastard!” Her eyes stung and her hands shook with fear and the urge to hit him. His total lack of anger prevented her from doing so. “You don’t want an equal partnership! You want a fucking Stepford wife! Well, guess what, Colonel Cocksucker. You can make Neil your bitch because I won’t submit to you. Not ever! The 1950s were hell, and you’re the devil for wanting to revive them!”
“Then if they turn you off so much, why was your hand down your pants while you were watching the video?”
She gasped and her heart beat like a pi
ssed-off wolverine snarling and flailing in the snow to protect a carcass from a powerful grizzly bear. “Fuck you! I won’t let you do this to me. It’s my life, damn it!”
She stormed toward the front door, but his hand clamped down on her arm, threatening to crush her resolve and reawaken her libido. That couldn’t happen.
“Jill, just listen to me.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let go.”
“No. You’re wrong about me.”
She cocked an accusing eyebrow at him. “Am I, Ben? Then what were all those e-mails between you and Brad, and you and CowboyMaster76, whoever the hell that is? What about all those searches about Masters and slaves, and all those picture of husbands spanking their wives?”
Ben blinked in surprise before his tone darkened to reveal his aggravation with her. “What the hell were you doing reading my e-mails and spying on me?”
“You never had a problem with it before.”
“Well, things are different now.”
His comment scared her. She tried to pull free, but his grasp only tightened.
“Let…go…of my arm…now.” Her tone shook with anger and fear, preparing to hit him if he refused to let her go.
He sighed, looking disappointed and frustrated as he did what she asked.
Jill walked out the front door, letting it slam shut behind her. How could he do this to her? She was a strong, independent woman, damn it. Not some bread-making wench from a demeaning bygone era. She really needed a stiff drink and to slug Ben a few times.
Then again, beneath all the anger and confusion was the quiet, steady ache that pulsed deep in her pussy. Her panties were sticky and her clit swelled with desire. What the fuck was wrong with her? Certainly the idea of power exchange in books was one of the hottest things she’d had the pleasure of reading, along with ménage and those bodice-ripper forced seduction stories.
But in real life? Why the hell was she drenched and achy at the thought of losing all her rights and becoming Ben’s property? That made a lot of sense. In a sexual context it was hot, but nobody had sex 24/7. There would be the day-to-day aspects of the lifestyle, and that freaked her out and pissed her off. Could she really submit 24/7 even when she knew better than he did? Hell, no.
Her slit oozed with warm nectar and her lonely pussy cried out for a cock—the cock of a strong, dominant man—the hot, rigid erection of the husband who wanted to enslave her, to own her, and possess her completely.
Did Neil know about this? He was playful and fun, vanilla with the occasional kink. He liked equality to the best of her knowledge, and he admired her independence and respected her self-reliance. Why couldn’t Ben be more like that?
Jill walked more quickly when she saw Stein’s Bar come into view. They had alcohol and bathrooms for privacy. She meandered past the people in the barroom, barely noticing them as she headed for the haven of the restroom. She entered one of the stalls and shut and locked the door.
Ben was a dick and he could kiss her ass.
She recalled his avid attraction to her ass. He’d fucked it once when he shared her with Neil. She’d never let him before that, but that day Ben had asserted control and taken her virgin ass while Neil filled her pussy. Her husband had dominated her in a subtle but incredibly erotic way even while being tender and sharing in her fantasy of being sandwiched between two strong men.
In the porn film, which Ben had to have had custom designed for his very specific tastes, the actor had licked the girl’s asshole. Did Ben want to do that with her? Probably or he wouldn’t have had it added to the movie.
Jill’s pants came down and she stuck her hand down her panties, choking on the soothing touch of her own fingers lightly stroking the heated flesh between her legs.
Would Ben hold back with her like he had during the first six years of their marriage and quietly fantasize about all the things he wanted to do to her ass that she wouldn’t let him? Or would he take control of her body and seduce her will like he had in bed during their first three-way together?
The image of him holding her down and making her feel his tongue drag across her asshole made her whimper helplessly. She tugged the panties down her bottom, aroused at the hot-pink lace that clung to her toned thighs. It brought images of her man lowering her panties and finger-fucking her earlier.
She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath as her pointer finger caressed the slick inner walls of her steamy, hurting cunt. His fingers had been much longer and thicker as they’d filled and stretched her vagina while he’d held her snugly in his arms. He’d stilled her half-assed struggles and murmured to her in a dark, commanding tone exactly what he expected of her and from her. She’d soaked her panties for him as he’d turned all controlling husband on her.
Even now her pussy creamed and coated her finger with its warm, wet lust for the dark side of her spouse.
She coated her pinky in her juices and then slicked her anus with it. His tongue would feel hot and moist, even more so than her finger. She imagined her protests like the actress.
“Oh no, we can’t! I’m a good girl.”
“Not anymore. This is Daddy’s asshole. Say it.”
Jill bit back a tormented cry of pleasure, noting that she was alone in the bathroom. No one would hear that soft, submissive little whisper. “This is your asshole, Ben.”
She choked on a whimper, and her eyes glazed with delight at the glacier-cold chills that flowed through her veins before fiery lava smoldered in their place.
Ben had fucked her ass once and he’d used a condom since she hadn’t wanted cum up there. What would it feel like to let him ejaculate in her butt? Would she like it? Would he? She’d likely feel like a dirty girl afterward, but would that titillate her or leave her feeling ashamed?
Her inquisitive finger pierced into the dark passage, caressing her anal walls and giving her as much pleasure as the finger stroking her sex was.
“And you want me to fuck it good and hard until we both come over and over again, don’t you, my hot little cunt?”
“Oh yes, Sir! Fuck me, please! Fill my ass with all your hot cum.”
She held back her euphoric outcry when the finale commenced. Her vagina sucked her finger and her ass locked onto her curious pinky as waves of searing pleasure rolled over her.
Her eyes misted and burned at the magnitude of her longing to surrender to her husband’s passion, her curiosity to explore the lifestyle she secretly craved.
She’d been brought up to believe that wives were supposed to submit to their husbands for religious reasons. But she didn’t want to be told it was her solemn duty to submit. She wanted to have the choice to yield or to rebel and then dive completely into whichever path she chose.
But she never had. The diehard feminist in her raged at her husband’s audacity even as it made her hot and bothered to the point of sexual madness.
Then there was the soft, feminine, submissive side that she was afraid to let Ben see. The deep, yearning hunger to be subjected to his will and made to submit in bed and in life.
Reading about it made her horny, but she knew it was more than sexual. The lifestyle wasn’t one long, epic sex saga, as hot as that would be. It was about mutual trust, commitment, and respect. Probably similar to marriage, except with the whole Dom-sub thing or Master-slave depending on the people involved.
There was a whole psychological dynamic, too, she knew, but it scared her. She didn’t want to be brainwashed and manipulated into accepting some demeaning role that made men out to be God and women out to be pretty, decorative sconces.
Her parents’ countless lectures and stifling existence of rules, regulations, and squelched freedoms riled her doubts and fears. Their male-dominated household hadn’t had a thing to do with a D/s lifestyle. It was more of a religious obligation, and Jill had never liked it.
Perhaps there were some sweethearts out there, but from what she could tell they came in caring, understanding beta males, not strong, bullheaded alphas li
ke her husband. He was only a few notches less of a dick than her father was. She’d given her dad everything, practically killed herself trying to be the perfect religious girl. But it hadn’t been enough.
He’d forbidden her to date Ben, the love of her life. She’d had to do so in secret or her father would have made her quit her job and kept her at home under his stern, watchful eye. Not unlike Ben had threatened to earlier.
Jill hardened with anger. No. She was no man’s slave or doormat. She wasn’t a perfect daughter and she refused to be a perfect wife. She would do her level best and if that wasn’t good enough, then the entire male population could kiss her ass.
The thought of Ben making her be still while he kissed and tongued her protesting asshole made her moan. Her fingers went back to their fucking and stroking as she rubbed her pulsating clit to orgasm again, remembering Ben’s chauvinistic speech, his threat to make her his obedient little biscuit-maker.
Bitter, painful memories of her struggles with being walked on made her face heat with anger. The echo of Ben’s words simmered under her skin and set her body on fire, fueling orgasm after orgasm. Her eyes burned with frustration over her divided nature and in confusion over her unconventional needs.
Anger froze the tears still in her welling ducts, but each steamy memory of his blatant desire to control and own her seduced the climax from her weak, shaky body. The pleasure came in sweltering droves that were all-consuming and wonderful.
Nineteen orgasms. I should stop now. I’m not a frigging slut.
But she couldn’t stop. The pleasure was addicting and it was something she could never admit to Ben or he’d take advantage of her strange needs and enslave her. She needed relief, but as good as her greedy hand felt it wasn’t enough. She needed Ben’s hand, his mouth, his cock.
Terrible, delicious words floated back through her head, and she pictured Ben and herself in place of the actors in the film.
“Please. I want to be your housewife and your little biscuit-maker. Enslave me, please. I need to be put in my place because you know what’s best for us and I trust you.”
“Good girl. That’s it. Come for me. Suck your man’s cock with your ass. This is what you were meant for, Jill.”
