Tamed Husband

Written by Throne / Sep 4, 2008



"Glen," Carla said to her husband in that barely controlled tone he knew meant trouble. "What's this money you spent last week?" She was studying the notebook she made him keep that listed all his expenditures. "On Wednesday. Five dollars for lunch? You were supposed to pack your lunch."

"Well," he said meekly, "I did." The short, slightly built man paused and eyed his wife, trying to read her. "But I wanted a soda, because I'd forgotten to put my bottled water in the fridge at work. You see..."

"A five dollar soda?"

"No, of course not," he said nervously. "It's just that, when I was buying the soda I, uh, kind of..."

"Bought candy?"

Now he was in trouble. Glen wrung his hands, standing in front of his tall wife like a schoolboy caught in a misdeed. He looked her up and down, appreciating her overly full, bulging curves, yearning to touch her, but aware as always of how much she restricted physical contact between them. More immediately, he was worried what his misdeed would cost him.

She sighed loudly and shook her head, making her long dense hair sway. "All right, for not following rules and then being evasive about what you did -- " She let him suffer a few extra moments. " -- two weeks of no allowance."

He shrank up inside. That would mean husbanding every penny he still had just to pay bus fare to work and back home. Packing lunch every day and skipping all treats. He wouldn't even be able to buy a magazine. Glen hung his head.

"Yes, dear. I'm sorry I was bad -- again."

"All right. There's something else we have to discuss," she went on briskly. "I have a new supervisor at the office and we're going to be working together very closely. To get matters off to a good start he's going to take me out tonight for drinks."

"Does he know you're married?" her husband asked with concern.

She frowned at his remark. "What does that have to do with anything? This is business. I have to get ready now. Go and run my bath, please."

She had said 'please' as if he had a choice. Poor Glen had been crushed by her overbearing manner even before they were married. Now, two years after their honeymoon, she controlled their money absolutely and treated him like chattel. Carla limited his sex life to giving him one quick hand-job a week. He hurried off to prepare the tub for her, making sure her shampoo, rinse, conditioner, lotions and such were lined up in the order she liked, not the way she had left them. That was one of his many jobs around the house.

Carla entered the bathroom in just her panties. Glen knew better than to stare. He had to steal peeks at his own wife, like a pervert. She pointed to her single garment and he knelt on the cold tile floor to gently work it over her broad hips and jutting bottom, down her full smooth legs. His fingers grazed her skin and he felt his penis tingle. If only he were bigger down there, with more to offer than four inches when hard, she might show him some respect. As it was he knew they would never have a normal sex life. It would always be dictated by her rules.

He started the water and, from long practice, got it at the temperature she preferred, then turned on the shower. Carla stepped in. As she got wet all over he quicky stripped and entered behind her, picking up the soap and washrag as he went. He carefully scrubbed her back from the neck down, growing more sexually frustrated with every second. Finally he sat to lave her backside and then work down her legs. By the time he was done and she had rinsed, Glen wanted to sob from bottled up need. His little balls ached.

But he had no time to think about that as he got out, took an extra large towel, and gently patted her dry. When he was done she walked off, leaving him there, naked and wet, his need on display. He folded the towel neatly and draped it over the shower rod. Then he used a dirty towel from the hamper to dry himself before he pulled on his jockey shorts and went to the living room to use the feather duster and push the carpet sweeper. He had to get to all those spots where dirt might hide, so Carla wouldn't find anyplace he missed.

Nearly an hour later she appeared. Glen was upset to see her in a snug, red top with a scoop neckline that displayed her deep cleavage, a tight charcoal skirt that ended above her knees, smoky stockings, and blazing red heels. He cringed inwardly at the thought of her going out dressed like that with another man.

She stepped close to him and peered down critically. "What's on your little mind? Tell me now or not at all."

"It's just... Don't you think it's... sort of inappropriate... for you to have drinks with this man while you're dressed like that?"

"We're going to a club, Glen. This is the way a woman dresses to visit a nightspot. I want to make a nice impression. You have to be mature about this. Do you think you can do that?"

He stood there, still in just his underpants, a feather duster in his hand, and lowered his eyes so he wouldn't accidently ogle her thrusting bust. "Yes. It's only..."

She silenced him with a few impatient taps of her toes. But there was another problem. Why did she have on so much of that bright lipstick, and that dark eye-liner? The way her hair was pulled back and held with a leather band behind her head, then left to spill down between her shoulders, bothered him too, especially how it called attention to her broad, high-cheek boned face.

Her cell phone rang. She reached into her shoulder bag, fished it out, and answered. All at once she was smiling. "Sure, I'm ready. Oh, you're right out front? I'll be there in two seconds." Closing the phone, she told Glen, "There's a list of chores for you on the kitchen counter. Do them in the order they're written. And just wear what you have on now. I don't want you to get any clothes dirty. Goodbye." She made an air kiss a foot away from his lips. He could only smile weakly and then watch her go, that oversized, desirable bottom swaying all the way to the front door. He went and checked the list. The workload wouldn't leave him two minutes to himself. He got busy right away.

The entire evening he couldn't stop thinking about his wife and her boss. At long last he heard a car pull up out front. Still overburdened with work, he rushed to finish his last task. It was incomplete but he could only hope his wife wouldn't notice or, if she did, would not unleash her temper.

The front door opened. Carla strolled in, holding hands with a tall powerfully built man. A Black man. Glen stood on the far side of the room with his heart racing. The Black man was well dressed, with short hair and a beard trimmed close to his strong jaw. Carla's clothes were slightly disarranged, her hair mussed, and her eyes sleepy, perhaps only with drink or maybe from something else. The two embraced and kissed deeply. Glen wrung his hands. Then the towering man said something softly to her. They both glanced at Glen, standing awkwardly in nothing but his jockey shorts, which showed off the meagerness of his male endowment. Then they laughed, hugged, and the man left.

Carla sashayed over to her husband as if nothing untoward had happened. She tucked him under the chin.

"What's the matter, dearest? I hope you're not imagining things. Not thinking that Steve and I... did anything naughty." Her laugh was wicked. "Really, Glen, you worry too much." She giggled. "Let's go into the bedroom."

He followed her meekly, still reeling from what he had witnessed. "B... but darling. I mean, the way he kissed you..."

"You mean the way we kissed each other," she corrected. "And we barely touched lips. I don't know what you think you saw," she told him as she peeled off that revealling top, "but it was nothing. Honestly, Glen, soon you'll be telling me I started an affair with my new boss." She chuckled at the thought.

Carla worked down her skirt and stepped out of it. She pointed to her panties and her husband, as always, knelt to carefully remove them. His face was directly in front of her pussy. When he uncovered it he gasped.

"Now what?" she said impatiently.

"It's... What's on you? On your...?"

"On my pussy?" she replied unconcernedly. "Just a little female secretion. We had a few dances and I was pressed up against him. It's a lot different than touching you. It got me excited. It was involuntary. Now get your mouth busy down there." She planted her feet far apart.

Reluctantly, still fearing that he was right, Glen licked her outer lips. She tasted different, salty. He grimaced but kept lapping, probing deeper and finding more of those 'secretions'.

"MMMMM," she purred. "That's more like it. I wonder what else you think went on between us. Here, let me guess. After we had a few drinks at the club he took me to his apartment building and we parked in the underground lot. In his car we made out like a couple of overheated teenagers. He couldn't keep his hands off my big tits. Is that the way you pictured it, dearest? No, don't stop using your tongue. Just listen."

He was worried by the amount of detail she was relating. How could she make it up so quickly? It sounded true. Carla stretched out on the bed and he laid between her thighs.

"Then we went in and took the elevator to his apartment. It's a nice place. He makes better money than either of us. As soon as we were inside he started to undress me. I sure didn't mind. When I rubbed up against him I felt his cock getting hard. It was huge, a hell of a lot better than that mistake of nature between your legs." She laughed. "I undressed him too and pretty soon we were both naked. Wait, he made me keep my stockings and heels on. Those elastic top stockings. He said it was dirtier that way, that it made me look nasty. He really must have liked it because his cock was standing up like a billy club. I had my hands all over it, and his supersized balls too. We were standing there kissing, when he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom, like I didn't weight anything. I'd like to see you try that. HA!"

Oh no, it must be true. Yet she had said she was just doing it because it was what he imagined had happened. She was simply mocking his fears. Maybe that was all it was. Still, she sounded so excited at the memory, real or otherwise. He sucked her clit and she shoved her mound hard against his face.

"The big brute tossed me onto the bed. I was sopping wet from being treated that way. He got on his knees between my legs. You can bet I had my thighs spread plenty wide. When the big head of his cock just touched me down there I almost went crazy. But instead of sticking it in he stopped and asked me how much I charged. He said I was his whore and he wanted to talk prices. That got me even more excited. I was squirming around like wild but he wouldn't shove it into me. So we talked prices. I said two hundred bucks and he started talking me down. He made me give him amounts for all kinds of dirty sex, like handjobs and blowjobs and backdoor. I really started to feel like his 'ho'. Anyway, we settled on a hundred bucks for anything he wanted, as long as he wanted. Hell, I would have paid HIM to ram that giant tool into me, even though we were just pretending about the money"

Carla ground herself against her husband's face, breathing hard as he brought her close to a climax. But then she told him to slow down because she still had more to tell.

"He finally sank that weapon in up to his balls. I was in six kinds of heaven. I was babbling, telling him I was his slut whore pussy slave. Whatever I thought he wanted to hear, just to keep him there. When he started pumping it was even better. I was grunting and hanging onto his hard biceps. He took his time and rode me like he owned me, which I guess you could say he did at that point. I couldn't believe it but he kept himself from coming while he pushed me over the edge. I had the most powerful orgasm of my life, right there in his bed. That's when he pulled out and moved up until his hard cock, coated with my slime, was right in front of my face.

"He told me to clean it off. He reminded me that I had agreed to do anything he said for that price. I was so turned on that I was thrilled to swallow as much of him as I could and suck my own girl-cum off. It was sick and bizarre and I loved it. Then, as if nothing had happened, he backed up again and started in to slamming me again. I had another climax almost right away. He didn't even slow down and when I was about to launch into number three he let himself shoot. He dumped a load in me that you wouldn't believe. Not like those little squirts you used to manage when I used to let you inside."

His wife sighed. She reached down and took hold of his ears. He began to lick and suck harder, elevating her level of arousal until she was about to finish. She started yelling for her boss to jam her harder, to split her up the middle with his jackhammer. It was her spouse who gave her the orgasm but the bigger man who got hollered for.

When she was done she said, "So, did you like my clever made-up story?"

"That really didn't happen? I mean, it was so..."

"I just said all that because you started talking about it. Get up on your knees." When he did, she pointed at his crotch and laughed devilishly. "That's perverted. I talk about getting screwed senseless by my boss and your little pecker is stiff as can be. Maybe you talked about what might have happened because it's secretly what you want. There's no way you can tell me it didn't give you a stiffy."

He wanted to tell her that wasn't true, that he was erect from touching her, from being denied sexual release for too long. But Carla just went on like that, telling him that since she would be seeing her boss several nights a week, she would play this little game for Glen's benefit everytime.

"It's sick, but it makes you happy. Don't say a word, hubby-love. I'll let you know exactly what happens everytime I'm with him. If you get off on pretending it's all true, that's your kink."

He went away convinced that she really had done everything she said. He washed his face, then brushed his teeth energeticly. By the time he was done that he had reversed his belief. She had to be fabricating those events. Sure, that was it. And ten minutes after that he was back to believing it was true.

Glen went to bed, alongside his amazingly sexy wife, both of them naked. She teased his penis, joking about how easy it would be for her to get him hard anytime, just by talking about her 'date'. Her husband got so horny his balls throbbed, but she didn't finish him. Instead, when she was tired of playing with him, she rolled over and shoved her plump backside against his rigid member. Glen was close to tears from need, and from not knowing what had really happened when she was out.

"Hey," she said. "You're due for your weekly handjob, aren't you?"

"Y... yes," he said eagerly.

"Well, if you enjoy hearing about me get screwed by a better man, you'll probably also like it if I make you wait. You're that kind of sicko. So as of right now I'm cutting you back to getting jerked off once every TWO weeks."

He still couldn't decide what had really happened while she was out. There would be another night with her boss in a few days. What could her husband do except wait? Maybe this time, when she returned home and made him perform his tongue dance on her pussy, while she told him another tale about sexual adventures that might or might not be true, maybe then he would be able to discern what was real.

Or maybe this new arrangement, with him endlessly kept wondering and worrying, would go on and on and on. It was a long while before he was able to go to sleep.
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