Dominating Rachel

He emerged from the bathroom and saw that his bed was made, as expected. He walked around to inspect the other side of the bed and noted that she had stowed her mattress under the bed. Once, as punishment, he had ordered her to sleep on the floor beside his bed. When Rachel described to him how appropriate it felt for her to sleep at his feet, she begged him to sleep there every night, and it became a part of their daily routine. To make her more comfortable, he purchased a roll-up mat, which he required her to stow away each morning to avoid having the children discover it.

As he descended the stairs, he could smell the fresh-brewed coffee that awaited him. Like precision clockwork, Rachel planted the piping-hot cup on the side table next to his favorite chair just as he entered the living room. The television was tuned to his favorite station, and a porcelain plate with a granola bar and some fruit lay next to his coffee.

He sat in his chair, and Rachel knelt on the floor beside him. He reached down and stroked her hair, and she smiled and purred. As always, she wore the clothing he had laid out for her: a tee-shirt and black yoga pants with a large hole cut in the crotch so that he could easily access that part of her body if needed. In the early days, he had ordered her to be naked whenever they were alone together, but as winter approached, he realized that his pet required a little more warmth.

Around her neck, she wore a silver necklace with a numeric "2" as a pendant. She was directed to never remove this necklace, as it served as a constant reminder for where she ranked in their relationship. He remembered how ecstatic she was when he gave this to her. She told him it was the greatest gift she had ever received, and she wore it proudly. Of course, she was forced to constantly answer questions about it from her friends, family, and even complete strangers, but that was part of the humiliation that came with the territory. She either brushed off the questions with a nonspecific answer or she would make up a ridiculous story to explain it. No one except Rachel and Brian truly understood its true significance.

As she sat at his feet that morning, they carried on a normal conversation, discussing family matters and the coming events of the day. He stroked her long, soft hair, and she peacefully purred in response. Some days, he directed her to wear her hair in a pony tail, as he enjoyed grabbing it and leading her around the house by it. But when Rachel awoke that morning, she noticed that he hadn't placed her elastic hair tie on the bathroom counter, which indicated that she should wear her hair down.

He made all of her decisions, including how to dress, what daily chores she would do, and what to eat and drink. He even directed her to run on their treadmill on a regular basis, which was something he knew she loathed. With her new diet and exercise regimen, however, she looked better than ever. And when he insisted she tell him the truth, she admitted that she felt better than ever as a result of his direction. He always knew what was best for her.

As nine o'clock approached, he rose from his chair and made his way toward the stairs to his office, leaving his dirty dishes behind. As he sat in his chair and logged in to his account, he could hear Rachel cleaning his dishes in the kitchen. Within moments, she crawled into his office on her hands and knees and parked herself beside him. He reached down and gently scratched the back of her head with his fingertips.

While he worked, she would not speak unless she was directly addressed. She understood the importance of his work, and how it paid most of their bills. She silently sat at his feet and played with her cell phone. It was a luxury that he would only allow if he was completely satisfied with her service, and she had done an exceptional job of serving him in recent days.

"Have you had breakfast yet, slut?" he asked. He knew the answer to the question already. He knew she would never put anything into her body without asking for his permission.

"No, Sir."

"Go downstairs and prepare yourself some cereal and fruit," he directed, "and then bring it back here. Oh, and if we have any light whipped cream, bring that as well."

She crawled from the room and returned several moments later with a large dog bowl filled with cereal and strawberries, and a can of whipped cream. On the side of the bowl, it read, "SLUT." Months ago, when she began eating her meals on the floor like a dog, he came up with the idea of giving her this gift. The look of joy in her eyes when he gave it to her was priceless.

She bent forward and lapped the milk and cereal from the bowl using only her mouth. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, and a warm rush of blood caused his cock to expand. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about seeing her behave so submissively that instinctively excited him. He rose from his chair, retrieved a towel from the hall closet, and allowed her to wipe her mouth on it.

"Thank you, Sir," she meekly responded.

When she had licked the bowl clean, she rose to a kneeling position and awaited her next order. She seemed to know what was coming next.

"Are you ready for your dessert?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she said, smiling.

He removed his pants and boxers, draped the towel over his chair, and sat on it. He then shook the can of whipped cream and sprayed a generous amount over his balls and his hardened cock. He swiveled the chair in her direction and sat back.

She leaned forward and hungrily consumed the whipped cream with long lashes of her tongue. She moaned in delight as she swirled her tongue all along his shaft, and slurped the cream from his balls. She lifted his heavy cock and cleaned the other side of it with her tongue.

When it appeared to be completely clean, she returned to her kneeling position.

"Thank you, Sir," she said. "I enjoyed that treat."

His cock glistened and pulsated, and he watched her intently as she licked her lips.

"Get under my desk," he commanded, "and suck my cock while I work."

"Yes, Sir," she said, and crawled under his desk. He swiveled his chair and focused on the monitor before him.

She took his cock head into her mouth and slid his entire length into her throat. As she stroked him with her mouth and pressed her tongue against his shaft, she moaned with pleasure, sending vibrations straight through the lower half of his body, down to his toes. He had taught her exactly how he liked to have his cock sucked, and she was doing an exceptional job of it.

"Don't make me cum, slut," he warned. She knew better than to make him cum without asking permission.

She slowed her pace, removed him from her mouth, and gently licked from his cock head down to his balls. As he pecked away at the keyboard above her head, she continued to lick and suck him, bringing him to the edge of orgasm again and again, but taking great care not to push his pleasure over the top.

"Good girl," he said, and she moaned in delight. He knew how she loved to hear those words. "You're doing a very good job of sucking my cock, and I'm ready to cum now. Are you ready to drink every drop of it?"

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed with her mouth full.

She quickened her pace, bobbing her head over his shaft with greater urgency. She stroked him using only her mouth, just as she had been taught. She took him deep into her throat and back out, again and again. She held him inside her mouth, her nose pressing against his pubic hair, and rolled her tongue along the sensitive underside of his shaft.

He emitted a low groan and his cock expanded as he flooded her mouth with his hot semen. She dutifully swallowed one wave after another without hesitation. His cock continued to throb inside her mouth, and when it eventually began to deflate, he ordered her to stop. She dutifully removed him from her mouth, crawled out from under his desk, and returned to her kneeling position beside him.

He rose from his chair and pulled up his boxers and pants. She looked up at him, expectantly.

"Head down," he said, and Rachel immediately lowered her head to the floor and raised her ass.

He reached down and felt her smooth, firm ass through the fabric of her yoga pants, giving it a light spank. He then moved his hand further around to the opening in the crotch of her pants, which he had instructed her to make. He rubbed his fingers along her slit and verified that she was slick with excitement.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, slut?"

"Yes, Sir," she said with her head resting on the carpet.

"You should be rewarded for a good job," he stated. "Go fetch your toy."

She crawled from the room on all fours and returned with her "Magic Wand."

"Plug it in," he said, and she complied. "Now, use it on yourself."

The toy hummed loudly, and she brought the vibrating head directly to her clit. She sat with her back against the wall and her legs spread wide, which allowed him to get a good view of the action. Within moments, her moans grew louder and her body began quivering.

"Sir," she said, looking up at him. "Please, may I cum?"

He paused for a moment, savoring the power he held over her. He tried to recall the last time he had allowed her to cum. He rather enjoyed denying her that pleasure, as he found that she served him far more enthusiastically when she was sexually frustrated. But given that it had been so long, and that she had served him so well, he decided to allow her this treat.

"Yes, you may cum," he stated.

"Oh, thank you!" she shouted. "Thank you, Sir! Thank you!"

Her entire body immediately convulsed with a powerful orgasm. Her muscles tensed, and her face turned a crimson red. Her mouth widened into an almost pained expression of ecstasy, and she continued to shake and groan for several moments as she pressed the vibrator into her clit. At last, she removed it, and her body shook several more times before her muscles relaxed.

"I guess you enjoyed that," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, god, yes," she said. "Thank you, Sir."

"Now, go jog, and then shower," he ordered.

***

Brian glanced at the time at the lower right-hand corner of his monitor, and was surprised to see that it was well past two o'clock. He could hear Rachel in the kitchen downstairs, but she was very late for one of her daily duties, and this was unacceptable.

Disciplinary meeting, he texted to her. Within moments, she rushed up the stairs and went into their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

He intentionally waited several minutes to allow her anxiety to build. There were times when he would wait more than thirty minutes before entering the room, simply to prolong her punishment. The ritual of their disciplinary meetings had been established months before. After doing some research online about Dom/sub relationships, he had written a set of rules that she was expected to follow. Among those were rules about how she was expected to behave during their disciplinary meetings.

He opened the bedroom door and found her as he expected: kneeling in the center of the room, completely naked, her hair in a ponytail, blindfolded, and handcuffed behind her back. He closed the door behind him and paced around her in a circle, admiring the bruises on her backside from her previous whipping.

He found that it was more and more difficult to devise creative ways of punishing her. It seemed that no matter what punishment he chose, she enjoyed it so much that it became a reward. At times, he would simply lead her into their walk-in closet, order her to kneel, and then leave her there, in the dark, blindfolded and handcuffed, until he felt that she had learned from her mistake.

Once, he led her to the corner of their bedroom and forced her to her knees. He placed a dime on the wall, and had her lean forward until her nose pressed against the dime. He ordered her to remain in that position until he returned, and warned that if the dime fell to the floor, she would have to do it all over again. He was amazed when he returned to the bedroom more than twenty minutes later, and her nose was still pressed against that dime.

"Do you know why you're being punished?" he asked. It was the standard way to begin this ritual.

"I'm so sorry, Sir," she said. "I was cleaning the refrigerator, as you asked, and I lost track of the time."

"You didn't bring me my two o'clock snack," he said in a calm tone.

"I know, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"You understand that you deserve to be punished." It wasn't a question, but merely a statement. She knew better than to speak without being asked a direct question, so she simply nodded in response.

"I've been thinking of a new way to punish you," he continued in the same calm tone. "It isn't a physical punishment, but a mental one."

She shifted nervously on her knees. For months, he had lived with a nagging question that festered inside his consciousness like an itch that couldn't be scratched. He believed he knew the answer to the question already, yet there was not enough evidence to accuse her. This new Dom/sub relationship had given him a new perspective and mindset about the question, as well as an opportunity to finally learn the truth. The strange reality was that the answer no longer mattered to him. He no longer questioned her loyalty to him. And yet, that itch still needed to be scratched nevertheless.

"I'm going to ask you a question, slut, and you will answer me truthfully. I promise that I will not get angry, regardless of your response. But I have to know the truth. If you don't answer with absolute honesty, you will be punished more harshly than you have ever been punished before. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, nervously.

"Have you ever cheated on me?" he asked, calmly. She hesitated.

"Sir?" she asked. Her bottom lip began trembling.

"It's a simple question, slut," he said. "Have you ever kissed another man while we've been together? Have you ever had another man's dick in your slut mouth? Or another dick in your slutty cunt?"

"Sir, I...I don't like this punishment. I don't—"

"You're not supposed to like it," he interrupted, his voice remaining calm, steady and commanding. "Now, I will ask you one more time, and if I don't get a truthful response, you will experience a very harsh punishment, I promise you. Have you ever cheated on me?"

Her lip quivered, and she lowered her head to the floor. "Yes," she said softly.

"Yes, SIR!" he corrected, and he slapped her tits with a leather strap he had surreptitiously removed from a drawer in his office. She yelped in surprise and sat up straight. She sniffled, and he imagined her eyes welling with tears behind her blindfold.

The admission sent a sharp pang straight through his chest. It was painful enough to suspect his wife's infidelity; it was several degrees more painful to know for certain.

"I thought so," he said, attempting to appear unperturbed. He stroked her hair gently. She shivered at his touch. "You have kissed another man?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You've had another man's cock in your dirty, filthy, slut mouth?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You have opened your filthy whore legs to another man, and allowed him to fill your dirty cunt with his fat cock?"

"Yes, Sir."

Snot seeped from her nostrils into her lips, and she spit it out of the side of her mouth.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Sir," she said, "I don't want to say." Another lash from the strap struck her breasts, and she yelped in pain.

"I asked you a question, slut, and you will answer me truthfully. Who was he?"

"Oscar," she whimpered.

His booming laughter shocked her, and she recoiled at the sound of it. He laughed so hard, his cheeks hurt.

"That old man you used to carpool with?" he asked incredulously. "You fucked him?"

"Just once," she said softly.

"You only had sex with him once?" he asked.

"No, Sir...I only fucked him once."

"Okay," he said, pondering this new information. "So what, then?"

"I sucked his cock, Sir."

"How many times did you suck his cock, slut?"

"I...I'm not sure, Sir."

"You sucked his dick so many times, you lost count?" he asked, his voice rising uncontrollably. She simply nodded.

"You really are quite the slut, aren't you?" he said, resuming his composure. "I really had no idea."

She waited in her kneeling position, her hands secured behind her back, mucus running from her nose, wetness glistening from her cheeks, as he pondered his next move. He slowly paced around the room in a circle surrounding her.

"Do you love him?" he asked.

"Of course not, Sir. I love you, with all my heart."

"Then why did you do it?"

"He...I don't know, Sir. I felt powerless. Like I do with you now. Only he wasn't my dominant master like you are, Sir. It was all a mistake, and I felt confused. I thought I needed him at the time, but what I really needed all along was you. You have to believe me, Sir. Please, don't destroy what we have right now. I adore what we have. I adore serving you. You make me feel alive and whole, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that."

"Oh, I have no intention of destroying this arrangement," he stated. "I like having my pet too much. But rest assured, slut, you will be punished for this. And it will be the most severe punishment you've ever endured."

"Thank you, Sir," she said.

***

It was almost disturbing how easy it was to contact her. All it took was a simple Facebook search to find her name, and then a Google search revealed her contact information. Before he had even met her, he knew what she looked like, where she worked, and where she lived. Hell, thanks to social media, he even knew what she ate for breakfast that morning. It was scary to consider how much information was floating out there in cyberspace.

He had been sitting at a small table in the dimly-lit bar for nearly an hour, facing the entrance, when she walked through the door. He recognized her immediately from her photos online, and therefore wasn't surprised to see that she was attractive. She was tall and thin, with long, blonde hair and blue eyes. He knew from her profile that she was a fitness instructor, and it showed.

He stood and waved, and she joined him at his table. She wore an expression of both concern and confusion. He hadn't provided her with details yet, but he would. He gave her just enough information to entice her to meet him.

As he studied her from across the table, Brian couldn't help but notice that Oscar's wife was around his age. It didn't surprise him that the old bastard preferred younger women. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about Oscar that attracted young, attractive women. Maybe he was hung like a horse. The image of his wife wrapping her lips around a massive, horse-like cock sent a tingling sensation to his groin.

"Thank you for coming," he said with a smile. "Let me buy you a drink. You're going to need it."

***

Rachel was confused and surprised when she read the text. As she scurried up the stairs, she scrolled through all the possible infractions she may have committed. In the weeks since she was forced to reveal her affair, she had taken extra care to serve her husband better than ever. She was relieved to discover that nothing had changed in their relationship. In fact, he seemed more relaxed than ever, and more pleased than ever with the level of service she was providing.

She entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. As she stripped off her clothes, she ran through her mental checklist. The sink was empty of dirty dishes, the floors were spotless, the kitchen counters had just been wiped clean, his bed was made, her mat had been put away, he had enjoyed his morning breakfast, and she was just about to begin preparing lunch. Everything, it seemed had been completed as expected. So why had she received a text from him, ordering a disciplinary meeting?