A Display of Power

srone

 

I’ve prepared her a small breakfast and served it to her in bed. I made the bed and tidied up the bedroom while she was in the shower, and then I cleaned the bathroom when she was done with her shower. I was now kneeling before her massaging her feet while she was putting the finishing touches on her hair at her vanity when we heard the doorbell ring. I hated these interruptions in our weekend game and angrily went to sit on the bed to wait for our guest to leave. I didn’t even make it to the bed when my wife snapped her finger and pointed to the corner. I don’t know if she does things like that just to see me pout like a little child or, simply because she can. I have always wondered how it would feel to have someone follow every command, no matter how arbitrary or ridiculous. So as I slowly and dejectedly walked over to place my nose ever so closely to the corner of the room she sauntered out and closed the door.

 

My wife’s subtle cruelty is prevalent in every menial task I’m required to do. Luxurious carpet covers every square inch of her spacious bedroom except for a 1 square foot piece of rough granite tile in the corner of the room. I thought my wife was insane when she told me to remove a 1 foot square of carpet from the corner one Saturday afternoon. After I was done with that she told me to go to the garage and return the contents of her trunk. Inside of her trunk was the single piece of tile, and everything I needed to install it. After I completed my task she stepped onto the tile in her low heeled sandals. I was still on my knees from laying the tile and I stared her feet as they tested out my work.

 

“This is going to suck.” she said laughing as stepped off the tile and walked out of the room.

 

So I stood. I stood because that is what she told me to do with a simple snap of her beautifully manicured finger. I’m not sure how to explain what if feels like to be a grown man being put in the corner, other than the fact that you don’t feel like a grown man at all.

 

I could hear the outside door opening and barely audible conversation. I could tell that our guest was female, but I could not tell who. I could hear conversation but I could not discern what they were saying. My feet were starting to ache. I wanted our guest to go away. I wanted to step back 6 inches and place my burning feet on that soft luxurious carpet. We seem to always have these little interruptions when all I want to do is be alone with my wife. I shifted my weight to one foot to relieve the ache in the ball of the other foot. I tried to hear what they were talking about, more I wanted to hear that tell tale change in the pitch of their voices that meant the conversation was coming to a close. My calves started to burn. She was right; standing on this tiny piece of rough tile did suck.

 

 I really wanted to see my wife. If this is going to take a while why doesn’t she gracefully slip away and release me from her last order. My legs were starting to feel like jelly. I really did not want to be standing in the corner anymore. I was in mental turmoil as I thought to myself that I should just go and sit on the bed, I’m a man for God sakes. Would a real man be doing this I thought?

Would a real man be standing in the corner on a hard piece of granite tile in a pair of 5 inch red fuck me boots because his wife snapped his fingers and pointed to the corner?

I got aroused at the thought that my wife had so much control over me. I stared at the corner in front of me shifting my feet from side to side, and shifting my thoughts from my discomfort, to my overwhelming desire to be in the presence of my wife.

 

Dingalingaling.

 

I was awakened from my submissive trance. I didn’t hear her guest leave. The blood drained from my face; my mouth became instantly dry. She couldn’t really be doing this, could she? My legs, rubbery from standing there for so long, seemed to be paralyzed. It took all my will to pick up my foot and turn around. It seemed like hours before my legs started moving forward.

 

Dingalingalingaling.

 

Oh no, two rings weren’t good. I minced as quickly as I could to her den.

 

I got to the door. It seemed as if I were entering another world when I opened the door. Time was slowing down. Everything was crystal clear, yet a blur. It was not my will that had me walking toward her and this guest. It seemed so automatic, like it was her will moving my legs. I wanted desperately to run back to her room and change my clothes, but forward I walked.

 

I turned the corner and stood before my wife and her guest with my head bowed.

‘You rang ma’am.”

 

“Oh my God! Rick!?”  Her guest was laughing hysterically.

 

“Oh my God it’s Nicole!” I thought to myself.

 

I could feel my face turn red from the humiliation. My mouth was completely dry. I wanted more than anything for this moment not to be happening. Please just let me shrink down to nothing and crawl into a tiny crack in the floor. I just really wanted to crawl into some tiny little hole and not be seen by anyone.

 

I have no doubt I hardly looked like a husband as I stared down at my fuchsia colored stocking clad legs balancing precariously on my stiletto heels. My hands crossed demurely in front of me, resting on my pink vinyl french-maids uniform.  My eyes were fixed on the pointed toes of my red fuck me boots. It seemed like I stood there for an hour, but it was perhaps 15 seconds.

 

“Nicole would like a cup of coffee. Be a dear and make her some” my wife stated matter of factly.

 

“Yes Ma’am”

 

“Cream and sugar,” Nicole demanded, giggling.

 

“Yes Ma’am” I responded as I started towards the kitchen.

 

I could not help but hear the laughter as I walked away. I don’t think there’s much more that can humiliate a grown man like two beautiful women laughing at him.

 

My legs were wobbly and I was completely flustered. The simple task of making coffee was quickly becoming overwhelming. I could hear the hushed conversation but could not make out what they were saying.

 

I was shaking as I poured the gourmet beans in the grinder.  I’m glad there was a timer on the grinder. Pouring water into the decanter, pouring that into the coffee maker was difficult. Separating the coffee filter was impossible. I was shaking. I spilled the coffee trying to pour it into the filter. DAMN!

I would have to start over. I dumped the grinds and started over…this was way too much.

 

 

I returned to where they were seated and placed the serving tray on the table. I placed a cup before Nicole and a cup before my wife. I picked up the coffee pot and poured them each a cup of coffee. After I placed the coffee pot back on the serving tray I returned to my demure stance. I was praying that I would just melt to nothing but life was not that kind. I’m not sure how long it was before my existence was acknowledged; seconds seem to stretch into eternity when you’re in situations like this. After some time my wife removed the top from the sugar and gently laid it on the serving tray. She removed a spoon from the serving tray and added sugar to her coffee. All of the motions seemed to take forever. The gentle tinkle against the side of the cup as the coffee was stirred. My wife returned her spoon to the serving tray. This is pure agony! Please make everything move faster so this will all be over!

 

 

Nicole removed her spoon from the serving tray and went about the mundane task of fixing her coffee. I could sense the arrogance building within her as she performed this simple task. She knew that our prior egalitarian relationship was never to be the same again after this simple event. Even though I had my eyes to the floor I could clearly see she was studying me. She sat there with her legs crossed, nonchalantly looking at me as if she were looking at a vase. She finished stirring her coffee and placed her spoon on the serving tray. She took a sip of her coffee and returned her complete attention to my wife.

 

 

The view before me was a completely normal every day occurrence of two very attractive ladies enjoying a morning coffee together. The two chatted about the mundane as two friends will do. I occasionally saw Nicole look at me. There was no shyness when she looked at me. She didn’t look away when she felt I knew, instead she was unabashed, bold, obvious. She only looked away when she wanted to. This was absolutely surreal to me! After some time, perhaps 2 minutes, my wife took the first sip of her coffee. She placed the cup down gently, snapped her fingers and pointed to a corner in the room. I immediately went to the corner and stood there.

 

“You may kneel.” My wife said after some time, in the same way she might say, “Sure, you can go out with your friends,” or “You can go to the game.” Her tone of voice, her inflection, her demeanor, was all very normal when she gave her bitch husband permission to kneel in the corner because she felt some amount of sympathy for her husband’s feet after standing in his red 5” patent leather fuck me boots for the last hour.

 

I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should I thank her and interrupt their conversation? Should I just kneel and be as inconspicuous as possible?

I was so confused as to what I should do!

Their conversation had resumed and I didn’t want to interrupt. I slowly dropped to my knees and felt the immense relief as the balls of my feet were finally free of all my weight. I couldn’t believe how much the balls of my feet were burning. I couldn’t believe the pure bliss as my calves loosened up for the first time in over an hour.

 

“Stand up bitch.” She said quite forcefully just as my knees hit the carpet.

 

I jumped back up on my burning feet. I was mad. I felt upset. I was hurt. My feet were really aching. I would like to ask why she was doing this. I wanted this game to end. That’s it I thought to myself, I really need to be a man and stop this. I stared at the corner simmering. I was angry. I pouted. I thought about just walking away. I thought about going upstairs, taking off this ridiculous outfit, throwing on my jeans and work boots and taking my rightful place as her husband, a man. I wanted to demand that she serve me a cup of coffee! I worried that the seams on my fuchsia stockings were crooked.

 

They resumed their conversation. They resumed their conversation just like there wasn’t a 5’ 11” man dressed like a slut maid standing in the corner that they were playing like a yo-yo. Nicole started asking questions about our arrangement: what I would do, how I got to be where I am today. My wife was open and honest about everything. The conversation had the air of any other conversation among friends, except that instead of talking about the weather they were talking about my innermost secrets.

 

“What is that on your boot?” my wife asked Nicole.

“I don’t know. I guess I stepped in something.” Nicole replied.

 

I heard a snap of my wife’s finger and quickly minced over to my wife. I knew what was coming.

 

“It appears Nicole has stepped in something. Be a dear and lick it off.”

 

“Be a dear and get us some drinks.”, “Be a dear and open a window” were normal requests asked politely by a person who loves and respects you. “Be a dear and lick this crap off my friends boot.” asked in the same manner creates cognitive dissonance.

 

 “Yes Ma’am”

 

I kneeled before Nicole and stole a quick glance in her eyes. I felt so meek and timid as I saw the power in her eyes. I saw her subtle grin that was giving away the way she felt about the mornings events.  I quickly looked down and I know without a doubt she did not avert her gaze as my head dropped down below her knees. I could feel her eyes bearing down on me as my lips made their way to her leather boot. Her legs were crossed and the spot was on the boot that was in the air. The spot was just behind where her pinky toe would be, on the upper leather and on the side of the sole. She made no attempt to move her foot to make it any easier or harder on me. Her foot was where she was comfortable and she felt no need to move it, simple as that. The spot was off white. I didn’t have a clue as to what it could be. I gently ran my tongue across it to no affect. I kept increasing the pressure I was applying with my tongue. I could feel her pushing the boot against my tongue. The spot started to disappear ever so slowly with each lick. The bitter taste of her shoe and the stuff I was licking up was disgusting.

 

The two women kept talking, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a grown man in a pink vinyl maids outfit was on his knees licking goo off one of their boots.

 

“So you say a man will do anything if you control his orgasm.” Nicole reiterated.

 

My tongue was getting raw as I lapped away at the goo on her boot.

 

“I don’t think it will work on the alpha males, they would never go for it. The weaker males on the other hand need a woman in their lives to tell them what to do.” My wife replied.

 

My neck hurt because of the way I had to twist it to get my tongue in the right spot.

 

“I can’t believe that you could get most guys to do this. And you say he ENJOYS this?”

 

My tongue kept digging into her boot. Her foot kept pressing against my tongue. I was getting used to the bitter taste. I was trying to drive out of my nonstop mind what this could possibly be. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was.

 

“Are you sure that it’s not just that your husband, if I may call him that, is just a completely perverted wimp?”

 

 

The hardest part was that place where the upper meets the sole. It took everything I had to grind my aching tongue into that little nook to get the last of the goo off her boot.

 

“He may be. But I think his kind is more prevalent than you think.”

 

I think I was done. My tongue hurt beyond description. I was fighting my body’s natural reaction to gag at the disgusting taste in my mouth. I kept my head lowered near Nicole’s boot. I was wondering if I would ever be able to face Nicole again; I was praying I would never have to. A couple of minutes after I stopped grinding my tongue in Nicole’s boot I saw my wife’s hand gently turn Nicole’s foot so she could inspect. Nothing was said so I assume I did at least an adequate job.

 

I believe I need to reiterate:

I, a grown man, dressed in a pink vinyl maids outfit has kneeled before my wife’s friend and lapped up some unknown goo from her boot until my tongue was raw and….nothing was said. No “Thank you”, no “Good job”…it was just expected.

 

 

“Would you excuse me for a moment while I take care of something?” my wife asked Nicole.

 

“Sure”

 

“Get over here bitch.”

 

I crawled over to where my wife was sitting.

 

“Your insolence will not be tolerated. You’ve embarrassed me in front of my friend and now I must embarrass you in front of her.”

 

Embarrass me?? Embarrass me in front of her??? What exactly have you been doing to me for the last hour if you haven’t been embarrassing me I thought.

 

“I don’t understand Ma’am”

 

She stood up, towering above me. She roughly grabbed my face in her hand and tilted my head up so that I was looking up at her. Her face was so far above me. My cheeks were all scrunched together making my mouth look like a fish out of water. This really hurt and I was caught off guard. I don’t’ think I’ve ever felt so weak and powerless in my life.

 

“I was thinking that you must be tired standing in those heels for so long and out of the kindness of my heart I gave you a break. All I expect in return for my benevolence is a little courtesy and respect. Do you think you can just take advantage of my good nature? Do you think you can just step all over me like I’m some little wimp?”

 

“nnnnno mmmph” I tried to say through my painfully squeezed cheeks.

 

“When I was so gracious to you earlier what should your reply have been?”

 

She grabbed my hair with her other hand and pulled my head back and let my cheeks go.

 

“Thank you Ma’am.” I cried out.

 

“Well it appears you haven’t lost your mind. Then why might I ask were you so disrespectful of me then? Do you think that just because we have a guest here you don’t have to show me any respect?”

 

“No Ma’am. I..”

 

“I think you were just trying to show Nicole you how much of a man you are.”

 

Wait a minute…I was standing in the corner in a pink vinyl maids uniform and red patent leather 5” fuck me boots are locked on my feet. I was worried that the seam of my fuchsia stockings weren’t straight and that you would later punish me. You were telling me to kneel. I didn’t feel at all like a man.

 

“No Ma’am” I meekly replied.

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

My face must have turned completely white. My mouth had gone completely dry.

 

“Please Ma’am…please no…I beg you.”

 

She reached in her pocket pulled out a set of clover nipple clamps. She pulled my dress down and placed the clamps on my nipples. Nicole giggled as I gasped with the placement of each clamp. My dress was trying to ride back up putting pressure against the clamps, causing quite the amount of pain and discomfort.

 

I pleaded with my eyes as I stared up at her.

 

“Please don’t.” I whimpered.

 

She reached down and grabbed a single stiletto pump from the floor by her chair and hung the pump on the chain between my nipple clamps.

 

“Owwwww!”

 

“Oww? Oww?” she said sarcastically.

“You better go fuck yourself before you’re really fucked.”

 

She sat back down and resumed her conversation with Nicole. The argument, if you could call it that, was simply over. I was so turned on I couldn’t believe it. She has never been dominant to this extent. She’s always been quite creative but this was another level entirely. My raging manhood was abruptly restrained by a tiny steel chastity tube. I knew what I was about to do would be the pinnacle of my debasement and I was horrified and disgusted at myself for allowing it to happen. The feeling of the steel biting into my restrained erection gave away my equally strong arousal.

 

I walked over to where a decorative column had been ingeniously (or sinisterly) bolted to the floor so that it could be turned but not moved. I turned the column so that a dildo base was facing the room. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I walked over to the curio cabinet and opened the drawer. I stared in horror at what I already knew would be there. I was shaking as I tenderly picked up the 6 inch realistic looking penis. They both sat in their chairs, quietly sipping their coffee, watching me. I slid the penis into the base and set the snaps that would hold it secure. Please let me wake up!

 

I kneeled before the penis and gently stroked it. Oh damn, how long has it been since anyone, including me, has stroked my penis. You can’t imagine how badly I needed someone to do this to me. This is how I made love to this fake penis; it’s the way I was instructed to by my wife. I didn’t have a watch, I had no idea how long I did to this fake penis what I so longed to do to my own. It had to be at least 3 minutes. I had to gently stroke and lightly kiss this vile thing for at least 3 minutes before I was allowed to move on. My nipples were burning at the pressure of the clamps and the weight of my wife’s sexy pump. I had to tease this fake penis like I would like to have mine teased. I was desperately hoping my 3 minutes were up. If I moved too quickly I would be severely punished.

 

I placed both hands on the floor and was now on all fours before my lover. My mouth was dry but I had to get some lubricant on this or it was really going to hurt. See I have one choice in this whole scenario, I could either give this penis a blow job and lubricate it with my spit or I could use the KY Jelly that was sitting right next it in the drawer. The Jelly came with a price though…50 strokes. I only chose that once.

 

I placed my mouth around this fake penis, which was going to get absolutely no enjoyment out of this, and bobbed my head back and forth. This caused the shoe that was dangling below me to gently rock back and forth, tugging at the clover clamps pinching my nipples, causing me a great amount of distress. I started moaning due to the pain.

 

“Oh my God! He’s really getting off on this.” exclaimed Nicole.

 

“I told him he can use lubricant whenever he wants but he seems to always want to give his lover a blow job. And trust me - he’s not getting off anytime soon.”

 

The both giggled.

 

I tried desperately to get enough spit in my mouth to give it some lubrication. I was moaning like a bitch in heat as the dainty pump tugged at my nipples. I couldn’t simply suck on the fake penis, I had to face fuck it. I had to please it like I was its $20 whore.

 

“Ok slut, I think that’s enough foreplay. Now fuck yourself.”

 

I slowly pulled my mouth away from the penis, making sure my lips didn’t wipe off any of my precious spit. I could see the lipstick stains against the base. Would I ever see lipstick stains against the base of my penis?

 

I quickly turned around and backed up into my lover. My legs were kept apart by the column. I reached behind me and pulled my panties to the side. I backed into my lover until he had just entered me. I put my other hand on the floor and pressed in a little more. I gasped as I felt the intrusion. I pulled out a little bit and pushed back again, this time a little farther. Each time I did this I let out a grunt. I repeated this scene until I felt my ass cheeks pressed into the column. I felt impaled, violated, humiliated, and completely filled with lust.

 

I slowly rocked back and forth, just far enough out so my lover didn’t come out, and all the way back in. The pain was excruciating. I could feel myself starting to sweat. I was moaning and gasping uncontrollably. I could feel my face contorting. I was bucking faster. My knees hurt. My nipples hurt. My ass hurt. My cock tried to swell. I was humiliated beyond belief. I looked up and saw my wife pour herself another cup of coffee. Spit came out of my mouth. I was nearing exhaustion. I could hear the tinkle of the spoon against the cup. I could feel the sweat bead up on my nose. My ass was on fire. She took another sip of her coffee. I was making totally incoherent noises as I was loosing total control over my body except for the wild bucking of my hips. She gently placed her cup back on her saucer and casually sat back in her chair.

 

After a short pause she just stated, “That’s all.”

 

I pulled myself away from my intruder and collapsed on the floor in a heap of contorted flesh, my body racked with pain and exhaustion. I curled up into the fetal position before these two beautiful women feeling totally humiliated. A snap of my wife’s finger brought me back to reality and quickly kneeling where her pointed finger instructed.

 

She gently removed her stiletto pump from the chain between my nipples. She very gently removed the clamps from one nipple. I cringed in pain and she gently rubbed my nipple as the feeling rushed back. She reached for the other clamp and I instinctively pulled away. She gently pulled me back and removed the other clamp. I gasped and held my tight fists by my side. She gently massaged my nipple, the sensation was overwhelming.

 

“You’re not going to humiliate me in front of my friends again are you?” she gently asked.

 

“No Ma’am” I replied.

 

“You’re going to treat me with courtesy and respect from now on, aren’t you?” she lovingly asked.

 

“Yes Ma’am” I replied.

 

She stopped massaging my nipple and patted her lap. I crawled over and placed my head in her lap. My arms wrapped around her calves and I held them like a teddy bear. She gently petted my head while she and Nicole continued their conversation. I was facing Nicole. I didn’t want her here. I didn’t want to face her but I didn’t have a choice. My wife had brought me to a new level of submission. Every time Nicole would look at me my eyes would turn to my wife’s lap. It was difficult look away, the natural place for my eyes to look was directly at Nicole. I felt like a little boy.

 

She was a beautiful woman dressed in causal elegance normal for a Saturday morning. I was dressed like a slut. She was sitting casually on the loveseat I purchased, no different than any normal person would. I was kneeling before my wife with my head in her lap being petted like a dog. I couldn’t help but notice the spot on her stylish boot where I had painstakingly licked some sort of goo off. She moved her foot around as if to punctuate that she knew I was starting at it. I noticed her glancing at the red patent leather fuck me boots locked on my nylon clad feet. She was enjoying the sensation of hot gourmet coffee. I couldn’t get my mind off the burning, yet empty sensation in my ass. Her jeans concealed what I knew to be a very sexy pair of legs. My tiny pink French-maid outfit had ridden up my leg revealing my fuchsia panties. I saw her wry smile before I quickly glanced away trying to pull my dress down. She looked over at the column which was still displaying the object of my debasement and I knew things would never be the same between Nicole and I again.