1. My Husband, My Slave


    Date: 1/9/2015, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Domination/submission, Female Domination, Oral Sex, Slavery, Torture, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 89.2, Source: sexstories.com

    placing them in the dishwasher. He wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t complain either. I let him fuck me that night; he was more than willing to lick me clean and give me an orgasm, too. I kissed him, encouraged him in his job-seeking efforts even though I knew they were fruitless, and rolled over to a most enjoyable slumber. When the weekend came John was content to sit back and watch TV while I cleaned the house—time for another change. “Do you think it’s fair, darling that I work all week and have to clean the house, too? You know I work roughly sixty hours plus another five on housework while you’re doing nothing. It might be different if you were working, but you’re not. Sixty-five hours to none doesn’t’ seem fair, does it?” “You know I’ve never done that, Soph.” “You could learn, couldn’t you? I’d help you in the beginning, but it’s hardly rocket science. The house would really sparkle if you’d do maybe two hours a day. Then we could have the weekend free to do things together.” There was a grumbling acknowledgement, but he did turn off the set and join me. I showed him how to dust the way I wanted it done—remove every item, dust it and the area where it sat and replace it. Of course, I never did that—it was too time consuming--but now I had someone with plenty of time on his hands. We worked together for two hours as I encouraged him with compliments and kisses. John had a list of chores when I left for work Monday morning. They were done, but poorly. I was critical, but ...
    that’s all. He complained when I gave him the same list plus another two hours on Tuesday. “Had you done these right yesterday you’d only have half to do today.” I kissed him and went to work. By week’s end it was pretty obvious even to John that he wasn’t going to find work anytime soon so I gradually increased his workload at home. However, when I returned home the following Thursday evening it was obvious that he had done nothing. I was furious. “What the hell have you been doing? Think this is a fucking joke? Get up and lie across the table.” “What? Why should I?” “I’m doing my share—more than my share--but you aren’t holding up your end. I only ask you to work for a couple of hours and you can’t be bothered. Either get up there or get out. I’m fed up with your shitty attitude!” “You don’t mean it, Soph.” “Don’t I? Why the hell should I have to do everything? I didn’t mind that you quit your job, but you had to swear at your boss and insult him. What did you expect him to do…turn the other cheek? If I’m going to do it all I might as well do it alone.” His head was down, but he walked slowly up to the table and leaned over it. I left him in place and walked into the bedroom, returning with his thick brown belt. He gave me an incredulous look when I lowered his jeans, but he didn’t move. The first blow seemed to take him by surprise. He cried out in obvious pain. He was bawling by the sixth and gasping for breath by the time I had administered the tenth. I left him there to ...
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