The Unexpected Dom #1: Jennifer's Revenge (BBW BDSM Male Submission) (2 page)

He kept straining and fighting against the cord she was using to keep him under control.

“Be still or you’re going to force me to hurt you,” she said.

Oddly enough, Declan stopped struggling and simply stared up at her. Jennifer stood up and used the long end of the cord to haul him to his feet. She led him into the family room. She halted at a table that held various items, among them a pair of scissors, which she picked up. Positioning the scissors at Declan’s neck, she started cutting on his clothes. Since the scissors were sharp, she made short order of slicing through the material and in minutes he was standing naked in the middle of the floor, wearing only his socks and dress shoes.

Jennifer handcuffed Declan’s hands in front of him and ordered him to remove his both socks and shoes. He was still strangely quiet and obeyed her instantly. She wasn't expecting such compliance! She needed to be careful, though; Declan wasn't stupid. Any chance to escape and he would take it. When he looked back at her, it was if he was seeing her for the first time.

“You look – different,” he said.

“I AM different, you jackass,” Jennifer replied. “Now, you need to get on your knees and beg my forgiveness for the way you’ve treated me for years, you worm.”

She used the riding crop that she had retrieved from the table to whack him on the side of his hips as encouragement. The red mark she left made her feel queasy, but she acted like she was in control.

“Kneel, worm,” she commanded. “I won’t say it again.”

Declan saw the look in his wife’s eyes and slowly went to his knees. He couldn’t believe that he wasn’t fighting her more on this but he was, surprisingly, aroused by this change in her. Those feelings had died a long time ago, right about when he started going to the BDSM club with a few guys at work. He'd kept his trips there a secret, and had been very, very careful never to technically cheat on her. Not even a quick hand job or blow job like some of the more “moral” guys at work.

He was in it for the loss of control, for having someone else tell him what to do for once. Being the head of the company sucked in many ways, with the burden of a thousand responsibilities on his shoulders. At the club, he could just be tortured until it all faded away, teased into a tizzy he unleashed in the care of his dominatrix, stroking off to the memory of being the ultimate sub.

His wife was standing before him wearing a black leather corset that laced up the front, black silk thigh high stockings, and black patent leather knee high boots. She had had her hair colored and styled and she was wearing makeup. In shock, he realized that he found her absolutely beautiful.

“What are you looking at?” Jennifer barked at him. “Beg me for forgiveness!” With that she cracked him over the shoulders with the riding crop. “Say it!”

“P-p-please forgive me for mistreating you,” Declan stammered.

Jennifer whacked him over the shoulders again.

“Don’t look at me! And call me Goddess! Tell me how beautiful I am and that you’re here only to do my bidding!”

“You’re so beautiful, Goddess. I exist only to serve you and do as you command.” The words rolled effortlessly off his tongue, for he was very practiced in following a dominatrix's command. Only his wife didn't know that.

“That’s better. Now, show your devotion to me and start shining and cleaning my boots—with your tongue. I want them to be so shiny that I can see my reflection in them.” Her grin made his insides twitch with desire. Damn, she was gorgeous. No more of that wimpy, mousy thing she had turned into lately. This was the woman he'd fallen for, and hell if he didn't feel himself sighing and praying for more. And yet...he'd been the dominant one for so long. Instinct took over.

Declan started to argue but caught the look on her face and knew he was only going to be whacked with the riding crop again if he talked back. Slowly, he leaned forward and began to lick the toes of her boots. He diligently cleaned and licked both boots until she had decided that they were good enough. She walked away from him and stopped on the other side of the room.

“Now, we’re going to let you do a trick,” she said. “Belly crawl to me like the snake you are.”

Declan wasn’t sure what to do – but he knew he better try to make her happy. He had never seen Jennifer this way and he was a little frightened of her. So he managed to get onto his stomach with his cuffed hands underneath him and started to inch his way across the floor. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling in the world but his cock was standing at attention in spite of himself.

Once he reached her, he wasn’t sure what to do next. But he needn’t have worried – Jennifer was ready with his next assignment. After instructing him to get up, which he had a rather difficult time doing, she dangled a very strange looking contraption in front of him.

“This” Jennifer said, “is called a chastity device. I’ll be putting this on your useless cock, locking you in it and keeping the key. It’s a device that will not allow your tiny cock to get hard. If it DOES start to become hard, it’s going to hurt you like hell. Now, let’s just get this on you.”

With those words, Jennifer deftly encased Declan’s cock inside the chastity device and locked it securely. She had placed a blanket on the floor along with a dog bowl with food in it and a bowl containing water. She now led him over to the blanket and instructed him to sit. Then she put a black studded dog collar around his neck to which she attached a leash, and then she attached the leash to a special ring that seemed bolted to the wall, using another ring at the end of the chain metal leash. He was firmly trapped.

“Now that you're done licking my boot, lick my clit,” she ordered. She kicked him down to the ground, the chastity clamp making him nearly scream in pain, and the dog collar dug painfully into his neck.

Then his rather boring, mainstream wife stood over his face and lowered her wet, naked pussy onto his face and rode him.

Holy shit. He nearly came on the spot, his cock so fucking hard he couldn't stand it, but as it grew the chastity device pinched him in the soft, delicate tissue of his penis. She moved her hips up and down, like his tongue was a lollipop, completely in control of where he stimulated her. Her pussy flaps covered his cheeks and part of his eyebrows and he struggled for air, but the slickness of Jennifer, her taste, made him want to touch her, to hold those luscious hips and fuck her with his tongue.

“Ah, there!” she screamed. “RIGHT THERE, YOU BASTARD.” Her pace increased and he struggled to keep up, tongue twitching and flicking her little bean, swirling and going wherever she seemed to crush into his face. Her breathing became a pant and then suddenly, she froze and clenched, a wave of juices hitting his face, filling his mouth, his tongue trying to lick her clit as she spurted all over him.

God, she'd never done this before. Where the hell had this woman been hiding? He couldn't wait to get his own release, his balls aching and his ass in need of a good smack.

She climbed off him, patted his cheek, and said, “Good boy.” Then she stood and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Where are you going, MISTRESS!” she yelled.

“Where are you going, Mistress?”

“I’m going to bed now, Worm,” Jennifer told Declan.

“What? But what about ME?” Declan yelled.

“What do you mean? You’ve got a blanket, food and water. What more does a dog need?” Jennifer replied.

“But, but...” God, his balls ached.

“There you go,” Jennifer said. “You sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She could still hear Declan screaming as she walked up the stairs to the master bedroom, smiling all the way.

That damn tongue – ahhh, he knew exactly what to do. She couldn't quite believe her own courage in just lowering herself like that, onto his face. She giggled into her hand. Man, where had that come from?

All she wanted right now was to fuck him, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. So, instead, she turned to the bathtub.

Sure, she had put on a few pounds over time. But the curves were soft and womanly; he'd appreciated her all the more when they had first married, loving her body. Did ten more pounds really matter? And the obvious answer – no – should have been good enough.

So why did she let him get to her? The makeover worked for her – she was stunning. Really. Even better looking than she'd been when they first met. Dominating him felt good. It felt right.

It
was
right. She drew herself a bath, turned on the jacuzzi spray, and grabbed the latest Selena Kitt novel. The spray nozzle attachment on the tub wasn't just for washing your back. She read a chapter or two about Sybians and went at it, more turned on by her knowledge that Declan was suffering downstairs in a cock lock than anything else. At least he couldn't fuck one of his lovers. That tongue of his was still amazing. She pushed aside the thought of all the other women he must have used it on. Not now.

The spray hit her clit just right and she opened her legs, letting them drop enough to slide a little dildo she'd bought just for these moments. Ah, the feeling filled her, the relentless stream of water pushing her nerves, making her pussy walls warm and ready. Her neck stretched back and her legs tensed, her mind filled with memories of Declan years ago, fucking her in an open field of wildflowers, the touch of his tanned skin, taut muscles, and hard ass pumping his thick cock into her.

She moaned, remembering the sun on her face, the scent of his musk, the taste of their sweat and how it mingled, how raw and real she felt, now sitting her in the tub, the jet spray rocketing her to a full climax, her mouth open and lips wet as she thrust herself against the dildo, finding a rhythm to move against the shower head, all explosion and power, all hers and all now.

She slept very, very well that night.

Her latte tasted even better the next morning. Declan had fallen asleep, curled up on the floor. She'd kicked him awake.

“Jennifer?” He'd rubbed his eyes.

“Make me a latte,” she'd barked.

“But, I...I need to go to the bathroom,” he'd said.

“After my latte.” Her order was not up for negotiation. He'd made the latte, even with his hands still handcuffed in front of him. She motioned toward the bathroom, where he was right now as she sipped her delicious coffee. Declan might be an asshole, but he was a very good barista.

He emerged from the bathroom, a confused look on his face. “I made a mess. I can't – ” He held up his handcuffed wrists.

“Then go lick it clean,” she ordered, giggling on the inside. That sounded like something a dominatrix would make a man do.

Was his cock growing? Did that somehow titillate him? A look of disgust passed over his face and she just laughed.

“I'm kidding. Here,” she answered, tossing him a wet kitchen rag. “Go clean it up. Now.”

He did as told, then stormed back out and threw the rag at her feet. “This is fucking enough, Jennifer. Uncuff me, now.”

“Nope.”

“I'll call the police,” he warned, face red and angry. He was also, as far as she knew, dry right now – no alcohol for the night. His hangover must be horrible.

Good.

“I am operating under
lex talionis
, Worm. The law of retaliation. And you're about to be served justice. In a dog dish, like the dog that you are.” If revenge is a dish best served cold, she thought, then Declan's dinner would be a fucking polar ice cap. He had a lot to make up for.