Dominating Rachel

Author's note: The Submissive Cocksucker was the first story I ever submitted to Literotica. It was, and remains, a standalone story, and I never had any intention of writing a sequel. A few readers suggested that I write one, however, and I considered it a great compliment that they wanted to read more about these characters. This story is my gift to those readers who appreciated the original. It is also my first foray into the BDSM category. As always, any feedback - positive or constructively negative - is greatly appreciated.

*****

Reflecting on her past, Rachel had always recognized that there was something different about her. She knew how she was supposed to feel about certain situations, and how she was supposed to react when certain events had occurred in her life. Yet, she was self-aware enough to accept that she didn't feel the emotions that society seemed to expect her to feel, nor did she react in a way that most people would consider to be "normal."

She first came to this realization when she began dating a boy named Todd during her first year in college. He was strikingly handsome, confident and cocky. Her friends told her he was arrogant, but Rachel opted not to describe him with such a negative term. He knew what he wanted, and had no hesitation in demanding it. If that was considered "arrogance", then she found his arrogance to be intoxicating and irresistible.

He could have dated any girl on campus, she thought, and he often reminded Rachel how lucky she was that he had chosen her. She worked hard to prove her worthiness as his girlfriend. Once, when he made an uncomplimentary comment about her appearance, she amplified her workout routine, changed her eating habits, and purchased new clothing, all in an effort to please him.

He was sweet at first. She was flattered by the blatant attraction he had for her, and she easily fell for his charm. After a few weeks of dating, however, he grew more selfish and demanding, more condescending, and more demeaning. He was never physically abusive, but his words had a way of tearing into her soul. She knew that she shouldn't have put up with it. Most girls would have left him at the first hint of such behavior toward her. But for reasons she couldn't explain, she became drawn to him more than ever. She liked the way he made her feel about herself.

He was her first real boyfriend, and thus her first real lover. He often made her feel inferior in bed, as though she had no idea what she was doing, and she tried her best to gain his approval. He had an unusually active sex drive and required a sexual release at least once per day. Their class schedules intersected in such a way that she was able to visit his dorm room just before he arrived each day.

One day, early in their relationship, she greeted him at the door with a friendly hug and kiss. Without saying a word, he unzipped his fly and took his stiff cock out of his pants. He put pressure on her shoulders, and she obediently dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. He held the back of her head and fucked her mouth until he coated her throat with several waves of cum. From that day forward, this became a daily ritual.

Day after day, she would greet him in his dorm room on her knees, smiling. He would stand in front of her, and she would do the work of freeing his cock from his pants. At first, he was very critical of her technique.

"Put the whole thing in your mouth. No, the whole thing! I don't care if you gag. Learn not to gag."

"Stop using your hand so much. Just your mouth."

"Watch the teeth, dammit."

"Lick my balls."

"Use your tongue."

"Don't fucking stop now! Can't you feel I'm about to cum?"

Eventually, she learned to suck his dick exactly as he demanded, and she grew to enjoy this daily ritual, as it filled her with pride to know that she was capable of pleasing him the way he needed to be pleased. Each and every time she serviced him, she would swallow his load - not because she enjoyed it, and not because she thought it was dirty or sexy, but because she simply believed it was what she was "supposed to do."

They dated for nearly a year. Then, just before the Christmas break of their second year, she greeted him after class, smiling and kneeling as usual. Instead of standing in front of her, he told her to leave. He didn't offer an explanation, and she knew better than to ask for one. The following day, she found a plastic bag in her room, filled with all of the items that she had been storing in his room. Just like that, their relationship was over.

She cried for weeks thereafter. Her friends all tried to console her, insisting that Todd was an asshole, and that she deserved to be treated far better. They hated the way he treated her whenever they went out in public. He would make her serve him, as if she were a waitress or a maid. And he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was leering at every other woman nearby. He even openly propositioned some of Rachel's friends, right in front of her.

Although she knew that her friends were right about Todd, Rachel couldn't help but feel empty after their break-up. She learned that Todd was seeing someone new, and she couldn't stop asking herself what she had done wrong, or what more she could have done to satisfy him in the way he needed. No matter what her friends said to her, she couldn't help but feel like a miserable failure.

After spending several weeks locked inside her room, her friends on campus eventually convinced her to go out with them to a local bar. That was the night she met Brian. He was the complete opposite of Todd in many ways. He was caring and considerate, polite and respectful, and from the moment their eyes first met, she knew that he had fallen head over heels for her.

He called her the next day and invited her to dinner and a movie. Less than a year later, he proposed. Rachel's roommate, her friends and her family had all enthusiastically endorsed their engagement. She knew that he was good for her, and that he would be a good husband and father to her children. She happily accepted his proposal, and after less than a year of engagement, they were married.

***

For the next sixteen years, Rachel immersed herself in marriage and motherhood. She gave birth to three children, and was fortunate to spend fourteen years as a stay-at-home mother. She took great pride in being a good wife and mother, but eventually she felt trapped inside her house. Against Brian's protests, she landed a job at the local airport, and immediately felt liberated by her new career.

For the most part, she had relegated her relationship with Todd, and the feelings she had experienced when she was with him, to the dark recesses of her memory. She had moved on, and was happy to live a "normal" life, with a "normal" marriage and a "normal" sexual relationship with her husband. As all of her friends and family had predicted, Brian turned out to be a great husband. He shared their household chores and child-rearing duties equally, treated her with respect, and was a terrific father to their children. In the bedroom, he seemed to be more concerned with her satisfaction than his own. He was sweet and caring and compassionate. And that, she discovered over time, was the problem.

Rachel knew that she should have felt completely happy and satisfied with her marriage, but she could not shake the nagging, aching feeling that something was missing. For many years, she struggled with this feeling, despite the fact that she recognized how illogical it seemed. She began to feel as if she were abnormal; as if there were something wrong with her.

One afternoon, when the kids were in school and she hadn't yet begun to work again, she did a little research on the internet. She discovered that she was not alone after all. There were millions of people just like her who gained both emotional and sexual fulfillment by behaving in a subservient, and even demeaning, manner with their partners. They called themselves "submissives." Simply having a name for this lifelong mystery evoked a sense of relief.

On a few occasions, she worked up enough courage to speak with Brian about it. He clearly didn't understand what she was trying to tell him, and it was too embarrassing for her to explain this deep-seated desire she had. Ultimately, she decided to bury her submissive nature and simply enjoy life without fulfilling that particular emotional and sexual need.

Then, she met Oscar.

Oscar worked at the airport as a security agent. He was handsome and manly, and carried himself with a brazen confidence that Rachel instantly found intoxicating. Despite the fact that he was seventeen years older, she couldn't deny that she was strangely drawn to him. Her attraction was so obvious that Oscar seemed to pick up on it immediately.

They began carpooling together, and after several weeks of flirting and teasing, he boldly ordered her to suck his unusually fat cock while parked in an abandoned lot early one morning. She knew that it was wrong. Not only was she happily married, but he was as well. Yet she felt oddly powerless and compelled to follow his order. She leaned into his seat and did as she was told.

That one incident evolved into a steady ritual. At least once per week, Oscar would park somewhere on the way to work, and she would suck him off. She justified the affair by convincing herself that she and Oscar weren't really having "sex", but simply fulfilling a desire that neither her husband nor his wife were willing to fulfill. For the first time in many years, she felt emotionally and sexually complete.

This strange sort of affair continued for several months. Rachel often imagined what it would feel like to have Oscar's long, thick cock inside her. Eventually, curiosity overcame her, and they spent a night together at a hotel. She could no longer justify that their relationship was not sexual in nature, and the guilt of her infidelity overwhelmed her.

Weeks later, when Oscar informed her that his schedule had changed, and he was no longer able to carpool with her, she secretly cried for days. She couldn't help but wonder whether he had really been forced to change his schedule, or if he had done so voluntarily.

Perhaps it was relief she felt, or perhaps it was grief. Whatever it was, it had a profound effect on her emotional stability. She fell into a deep depression that she found difficult to conceal, and even more difficult to shake. Brian noticed immediately, and offered to help in any way that he could. He did even more of the housework, and often took the kids out of the house to allow Rachel some "alone time." However, nothing seemed to pull her out of her funk.

***

Having spent the past several years telecommuting from his home office, Brian's morning ritual had placed him in "autopilot mode." After sending his youngest child off to school, he lingered downstairs with a cup of coffee and watched the morning news while thumbing through his phone to check his e-mail and calendar. Just before nine o'clock, he shuffled upstairs to his office and fired up two side-by-side laptops: one he used for work, the other for personal use.

He logged in to both and checked his work e-mail and calendar. He then turned to his personal laptop, and checked his e-mail accounts. As always, it was mostly junk. He clicked through one message after another, sending them directly to his recycle bin. He paused when he came across an e-mail from Rachel. It was sent to an account that he had created years ago as a throwaway. He hadn't bothered to add this account to his phone, as it was hardly ever used.

The subject of the e-mail simply read, "Getting something off my chest," and he noted the timestamp, which indicated that she had sent it during the very early hours of the morning. He never could understand why she worked at such an ungodly hour of the morning, but she seemed to enjoy her job, and he had noticed a drastic improvement in both her mood and libido when she first took that job. Unfortunately, in recent months, both her mood and libido had sunk to such a record-low level that he hardly recognized her anymore.

He clicked the message, and it popped open on his screen.

Brian,

I know that you've been asking me what's wrong lately, and I haven't really been able to explain it - or, at least, I haven't been able to explain it in a way that you would understand. You know me well enough to know that my mind is always working, and I've spent many years trying to figure out what, exactly, makes me tick. I'm at a loss to explain why I feel the way I do, but this feeling is real, and it is something that I need for you to understand. I've tried to talk to you about this before, but chickened out every time. So I'm going to try writing it instead.

I know that what I'm about to write is going to sound crazy. Believe me, it sounds that way to me, too. I know I'm not "normal." But in an odd way, I'm okay with that. And it is really important to me that you understand how I feel, and that you are okay with it, too. You know that I love you more than anything in the world, and having your approval would go such a long way toward making me feel like I'm not such a freak.

A while back, I did some research to help me understand why I feel the way I do. I read a lot of information on the internet, and some of what I've felt in the past started to finally make sense to me. I'm still trying to sort out some of the answers to the questions I have about myself, but I'm hoping through trial and error, I'll finally be able to understand exactly why I feel the way I do.

Here's the bottom line: I have a submissive personality. Basically, what this means is that I have a very strong desire to give up total control over myself and my body and act in a subservient way. I know that this is difficult for you to understand, but I have a need to be humiliated, degraded, used and punished. And it would make me incredibly happy - happier than I have ever been - if you would consider becoming my dominant master.

I know that this would be difficult for you, and I know that the last thing you ever want to do is humiliate or degrade me in any way - and I love you for that. You are the kindest and most caring man I have ever met - and that is exactly why I trust you to embrace this role. Nothing would ever change about the way I feel about you. This would simply enhance our relationship. And I would feel more comfortable and complete than ever before.

I realize that this is a lot to digest, which is why I sent this to you now. Please take some time to think this over today. Knowing you, I know that the first thing you will do is a Google search. I hope that you will come to discover that I'm not alone in my freakishness. In fact, there are millions of freaks just like me. And I hope you'll consider being freaky with me. :-)

You probably have a million questions for me, and I will answer them all when I get home at around noon.

I love you,

Rachel

Brian slumped back into his chair and stared at the screen, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. He scrolled back to the top of the e-mail and read it again. Since the day he first met his wife, she had always impressed him with her confidence and strength. Why would anyone - especially her - want to be humiliated, degraded and punished? It didn't make sense. It seemed so out of character that he began to question whether he really knew his own wife at all.

The more he dwelled upon it, the more he recalled a few subtle clues she had given him over the years - clues which he had entirely dismissed at the time. She had told him a few times, usually in the darkness of their bedroom, usually during sex, and usually after she had a few drinks, that she wanted him to be more assertive in the bedroom, take control, and use her like a fuck toy. He assumed it was merely pillow talk, designed to get his motor running. It never occurred to him that she actually meant what she was saying.

At other times in the past, she had asked him to spank her during sex. He did, but in a playful manner, and assumed that she was simply trying to "spice things up." He never imagined that she actually wanted to be spanked more forcefully, and with the purpose of discipline.

He recognized that she hadn't seemed very happy over the past few months. Whenever he would ask her about it, she would explain that she was simply "in a funk." Something about it just didn't sit right with him. He had nagging suspicions with which he couldn't justify confronting her. When she told him it was a "woman thing," he dropped it altogether. He had learned never to question "woman things."

As she predicted, he performed a Google search on the topic of sexual submissives, and spent hours devouring as much information as he could. He always knew that a subculture existed with people who enjoy bondage and other forms of sado-masochism, but he never imagined that he would ever have anything to do with that culture. It all seemed bizarre to him.

He heard the garage door open, signaling her arrival. He met her in the kitchen, and gave her a warm hug. She acted normally as she slipped past him to walk upstairs to their bedroom and change out of her work clothes. As he watched her undress, the thought occurred to him that perhaps she hadn't actually sent that e-mail. Maybe someone was playing a practical joke. But who else had access to their e-mail account?

"Well?" she asked, breaking his thought process. "Did you get my e-mail?"

So much for that idea, he thought.

"Yeah," he answered, hesitantly.

"And?"

She wasn't looking at him, but he was fixated on her, as if waiting for her to break out into a laugh and confess that it was all a joke.

"I don't know what to say," he responded. "I had no idea you felt this way. I don't know how you want me to respond."

"I want you to tell me how you feel about it," she said, finally making eye contact.

"I'll be honest, honey. I don't really understand it. I don't understand why or how you can want to be degraded and humiliated. It doesn't make sense."

"Well, thanks for your honesty," she said with a smile. "I don't really understand it, either. All I know is that it is a very real and very deep desire, and I think that I've felt this way for years. I was just too embarrassed to admit it, even to myself."

He could hear the tremble in her voice. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, and gently stroked her hair.

"I love you," he said. "More than anything. The last thing I want to do is humiliate or hurt you."

"I know," she said, "but this is all about trust. I trust you enough to give myself to you completely, and that you won't abuse that power or really hurt me in any way. I will let you know if you've gone too far. You need to trust me, too."

"Of course I trust you."

"Then trust me when I tell you that this is what I want. I know you love me, and you want me to be happy. I'm telling you that this would make me happy. Extremely happy. It would be the greatest gift you could ever give me."

He pulled away from her, held her face in his hands, and kissed her softly. He looked into her emerald eyes, and there was no question as to her sincerity.

"I'm willing to give it a try," he said with a heavy sigh. "A temporary experiment. I don't know if I can do it. I've spent our entire married lives trying to be a good husband by treating you like an equal. I don't know if I can ever see you in any other way."

"I know," she responded, "and I love you for that. You've been the perfect husband. Now let me be the perfect wife."

He stepped back and scanned her expression one last time for any hint that this was all a ruse, or that he was being tested in some way. She simply stood and patiently awaited his next words. There was a look of calmness on her face, and she smiled ever so slightly.