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Thank you for looking. This post will be a tad different than the usual roleplay request thread you find here. I was looking over some stuff I'd written a while back and ran across this -- a short story - it shouldn't take too long to read (around 700 words) and if you are interested (or even mildly curious) then please contact me and we'll see if we can work out the details.
While it would be ideal for a female to fill the wife role, I will entertain the possibility of a male playing the role of the wife. I might even be persuaded to play the wife and someone else the husband.
***
Things had been hot and heavy at work for the past few days – which precluded the likelihood of things getting hot and heavy at home. But finally, the big project was completed, and the wife had promised him an evening that would "make the wait worthwhile".
Months earlier he'd confessed his "Femdom fantasies" to her. Like most women, she thought they were silly. She was a traditional wife and a firm believer in traditional gender roles. Yes, they were "equal", but equal in that both their roles complimented each other. She wanted a big strong man to provide and protect, not a submissive pet.
He played it off as "just something to think about" and "just an idea, no big deal" adding "variety is the spice of life" and somehow refrained from pestering her about it. But in a surprise twist that excited him beyond reason, she alluded to the possibility she might be interested in that "variety" idea he'd shared.
He had gotten home earlier than usual, horny as hell, but she wasn't ready yet. After all, a woman can't enjoy sex when the laundry had not yet been folded and put away. Or when those boxes in the garage need to be sorted and stored. Isn't her car overdue for an oil change? For each item she mentions, her horny husband scurried about taking care of it. She'd never seen him so eager to work.
She was torn. It's nice to have these things done, but shouldn't he be doing them for the wife he loves, not the goddess he fantasizes about?
Still, at least they're getting done, and when she'd gone through her list of chores and errands for him, it was time for his reward: the honor of serving her. Perhaps they could start with him giving her a foot rub while she reads a book. She selected The Three Musketeers, required reading for a class. As her husband knelt before her massaging and adoring her feet, she read the part where Milady, an evil manipulative woman, was using her sensuality to get what she wanted from the devout uncorruptable man assigned to guard her prison cell. Milday seduced Fenton's mind. He fell in love with her, released her from her cell, then killed her jailer for her. Poor Fenton was killed in the process. Not that she cared. As strong as his faith might be, to her he was nothing but a naive boy being manipulated by a much wiser more worldly - and more evil - woman.
She had read the book before, in her youth, but didn't remember it being so highly arousing. She directed husband to kiss as he massaged - working his way up - ankles, calves, thighs -- then the next step...
She simply tapped herself down there and said "tongue" in a haughty manner indicating she expected her orders to be obeyed and for him to do otherwise was unthinkable.
At that point she realized she had to pretend he wasn't doing a good enough job for her. She subdued her reactions - instead giving him directions:
"Harder."
"Faster."
"Deeper."
and that one that came close to sending him over the edge:
"Can't you do anything right?"
Her orgasm was more intense than she ever thought possible. Instead of screaming out, she smothered her poor husband with her thighs as he knelt before his goddess. He wasn't able to look up at her, unable to see she was putting teeth marks in the book she'd been reading. But - they would always be there as a reminder to her.
Keeping him trapped between her legs until her breathing was back under control, she ordered him to continue kissing her down there - worshiping at the temple of his goddess.
Then she thought of a few more chores he could do. When she had composed herself she told him the next task his goddess expected him to perform in service to her, to bring her a glass of wine. She placed a foot on his chest and shoved him away. He scurried off to complete his chore.
Though she loved him, she smiled at the thought of how many times that day he'd said, mumbled, or screamed "I love you" to her, and she never once said she loved him in return.
He returned with her glass of wine then on to his next job. "I could get used to this" she thought as she returned to her book - considering how she would rewrite the ending so the bad girl wins.
While it would be ideal for a female to fill the wife role, I will entertain the possibility of a male playing the role of the wife. I might even be persuaded to play the wife and someone else the husband.
***
Things had been hot and heavy at work for the past few days – which precluded the likelihood of things getting hot and heavy at home. But finally, the big project was completed, and the wife had promised him an evening that would "make the wait worthwhile".
Months earlier he'd confessed his "Femdom fantasies" to her. Like most women, she thought they were silly. She was a traditional wife and a firm believer in traditional gender roles. Yes, they were "equal", but equal in that both their roles complimented each other. She wanted a big strong man to provide and protect, not a submissive pet.
He played it off as "just something to think about" and "just an idea, no big deal" adding "variety is the spice of life" and somehow refrained from pestering her about it. But in a surprise twist that excited him beyond reason, she alluded to the possibility she might be interested in that "variety" idea he'd shared.
He had gotten home earlier than usual, horny as hell, but she wasn't ready yet. After all, a woman can't enjoy sex when the laundry had not yet been folded and put away. Or when those boxes in the garage need to be sorted and stored. Isn't her car overdue for an oil change? For each item she mentions, her horny husband scurried about taking care of it. She'd never seen him so eager to work.
She was torn. It's nice to have these things done, but shouldn't he be doing them for the wife he loves, not the goddess he fantasizes about?
Still, at least they're getting done, and when she'd gone through her list of chores and errands for him, it was time for his reward: the honor of serving her. Perhaps they could start with him giving her a foot rub while she reads a book. She selected The Three Musketeers, required reading for a class. As her husband knelt before her massaging and adoring her feet, she read the part where Milady, an evil manipulative woman, was using her sensuality to get what she wanted from the devout uncorruptable man assigned to guard her prison cell. Milday seduced Fenton's mind. He fell in love with her, released her from her cell, then killed her jailer for her. Poor Fenton was killed in the process. Not that she cared. As strong as his faith might be, to her he was nothing but a naive boy being manipulated by a much wiser more worldly - and more evil - woman.
She had read the book before, in her youth, but didn't remember it being so highly arousing. She directed husband to kiss as he massaged - working his way up - ankles, calves, thighs -- then the next step...
She simply tapped herself down there and said "tongue" in a haughty manner indicating she expected her orders to be obeyed and for him to do otherwise was unthinkable.
At that point she realized she had to pretend he wasn't doing a good enough job for her. She subdued her reactions - instead giving him directions:
"Harder."
"Faster."
"Deeper."
and that one that came close to sending him over the edge:
"Can't you do anything right?"
Her orgasm was more intense than she ever thought possible. Instead of screaming out, she smothered her poor husband with her thighs as he knelt before his goddess. He wasn't able to look up at her, unable to see she was putting teeth marks in the book she'd been reading. But - they would always be there as a reminder to her.
Keeping him trapped between her legs until her breathing was back under control, she ordered him to continue kissing her down there - worshiping at the temple of his goddess.
Then she thought of a few more chores he could do. When she had composed herself she told him the next task his goddess expected him to perform in service to her, to bring her a glass of wine. She placed a foot on his chest and shoved him away. He scurried off to complete his chore.
Though she loved him, she smiled at the thought of how many times that day he'd said, mumbled, or screamed "I love you" to her, and she never once said she loved him in return.
He returned with her glass of wine then on to his next job. "I could get used to this" she thought as she returned to her book - considering how she would rewrite the ending so the bad girl wins.
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