Scott and I have a disciplinary session once a week, usually on either Saturday or Sunday morning.
It’s an opportunity for me to reassert my authority over my husband, and remind him of his place in the relationship. He doesn’t object, or resist. Instead he submits to it as easily as he puts on his shoes in the morning.
Typically, we go over recent events, and I give him an opportunity to confess and come clean with me about any inappropriate behavior or rule violations that he’s engaged in during the past week that I might not already know about.
There are times when I test him… when I might already know about something he did (or failed to do) earlier in the week… to see if he will be honest with me about it.
If I anticipate a light disciplinary session, I have him drop his pants, and bend over my knee while I sit on an ottoman we have in the bedroom. And then I spank him on his bare bottom with my hand, or sometimes a hair brush.
If I anticipate a more serious disciplinary session, I tie him down to the ottoman so that he’s laying down on a big fluffy pillow with his butt up. On those occasions, I usually use a leather belt or a strap.
This morning, he had several things to answer for, including the fact that he masturbated without permission in the shower on Tuesday. He had also failed on two occasions to wipe the crumbs off the kitchen counter after he made toast in the morning.
The thing is… what a lot of people don’t get about submissive men… is that they want this. They crave it. They need it as much as they need the air they breathe.
Scott knows exactly what my expectations are of him. And he does his best to meet them. Not always successfully, but that’s what our disciplinary sessions are partially about; to keep him reminded.
He knows he can leave anytime he wants to, but he doesn’t, because he wants to be here. With me. There is no where else he wants to be. And no one else he wants to be with. He’s told me so himself a thousand times.
My husband likes being married to a bitch who will control him, and tell him what to do. And give him no choice in the matter.
He doesn’t want to have choices. He wants me to make them for him.
His only option is one; do what he’s told. That’s it. Simple. No thinking required.
He knows the rituals. And knows the rules.
Here’s one of them:
“What do you do when I get home from a run?”
“I rub your feet.”
“Do you wait until I ask?”
“No.”
“And when I get home from work, and I’m exhausted, and sit on the couch, what do you do?”
“Get you a glass of wine, take off shoes, sit on the floor next to you, and rub your feet.”
“And what if I part my legs? What does that mean?”
It means you want me to go down on you.”
“And do you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Immediately.”
“Right there in the living room?”
“Yes. Unless you want to go upstairs.”
“And when do you stop?”
“After I’ve made you cum twice.”
And another:
“If I get home late, after midnight, get undressed, and join you in bed, what do you do?”
“Ask if you had a nice evening.”
“Do you start hitting me with questions about where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, and why I’m getting home so late?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s none of my business. If you think I need to know, you’ll tell me.”
“And then what do you do?”
“Go down on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you always want that before you fall asleep.”
“What if my pussy is filthy? What if it’s all creamy and cummy from being with another man?”
“I clean it up.”
“Do you ask where the pussy has been?”
“No.”
“Or who I’ve been with?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s none of my business.“
“Do you like the taste of whore pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it when I’m a whore for other men?”
“Yes.”
And another:
“What do you do when a man stands in front of you and pulls out his cock?”
“Take it in my mouth, and suck it for him.”
“Do you resist, or complain?”
“No.”
“How long do you suck it for him?”
“As long as he wants me to.”
“And what do you do when he cums in your mouth?”
“Swallow it.”
“What do you say afterwards?”
“Thank him, and tell him how much I like the taste.”
“And?”
“Tell him I’ll do that for him whenever he wants.”
“And will you?“
“Yes.”
Scott knows all of this instinctively.
For example… we’re at dinner the other night, at a really nice place, with white linen on the tables, everyone nicely dressed, candles, soft music… and he knows better than to ask the waiter about the specials, or about the wine. He knows I’ll be following up on that. He knows better than to even look at the menu, because he knows that I’ll be ordering for him. And the waiter… we’re regulars at this place… he knows us, and knows better than to ask my husband any questions. Instead, he directs his full attention to me… “And what will your husband be having this evening?”
To all of my readers, please don’t judge what you don’t understand, or what you don’t know. Scott is exactly where he wants to be.
Not everything is easy for him. He lives in a constant state of cuckold angst, which I am constantly ratcheting up and intensifying. But he likes it. He wouldn’t stay if he didn’t.
I asked him the other night at dinner… same place… to make me a list of ten of his business rivals in town, names and companies. And he did. When he asked why, I told him… very casually… that I was going to seduce one of them sometime in the next six months, and let him fuck me. “But don’t worry”, I soothed him, “he won’t know I’m your wife. He’ll just think I’m some girl he met in bar.” Scott then asked, “But what we run into him somewhere, a charity event or something?” My response, “Well, then he’ll know that you’re married to a really nice piece of ass, won’t he?”
This morning, Scott hand-washed my dirty panties in the bathroom sink, along with Gina’s and Rachel’s. It took him over an hour. What he didn’t know is that I tossed in a pair of Kimberly’s panties in with the bunch. I’ll eventually tell him, but only after he’s been doing it for a while. And probably only after I’ve jacked him off with a pair of her panties, and tossed them in the pile for him to wash.
Right now, he’s outside washing and detailing my car. He could easily pay someone else to do it. But he doesn’t because he knows that I want him to do that for me. And when he’s done, he’ll come inside the house, and do the rest of the laundry.
After spending two successive evenings with me, he knows that Marlon will be expecting him tonight, at precisely 9pm, because Marlon wants pussy. And as it turns out, the pussy that Marlon wants is between Scott’s legs.
