She makes the rules

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Brooke asked.

“Yep. I said I do, and you said you wanted to do it, too,” Clay said.

“Well, just making sure!”

“So, where and how do you want to do it?”

“I make the decisions around here, buddy! Meet back here in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he joked.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with, mister,” Brooke retorted, giving him a withering look.

Rather than argue with her, Clay wisely left the room and wandered into the bathroom. When he finished his business, he went into the bedroom and poked around on his phone. He got involved in playing a game and was startled when he heard his wife yell at him from the living room.

“Clay? Clayton Shelby! Come here this instant!”

Clay knew it was on. He turned off his phone, got up and went into the living room. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her.

She was dressed in a black leather, split-front pencil skirt, and a black, sleeveless crop top. The outfit, worn with a pair of black pumps, made her look like the dominatrix of his dreams. A black, studded choker around her neck completed the look. When onstage playing the oboe in the orchestra, Brooke always looked sexy but demure. In this black outfit, she looked sexy and dangerous - the girl mama warned you about.

“Get those pants off, Clayton,” she said, a haughty and threatening look on her face.

Clay never expected to feel anxious about what his wife could do to him, but he did. He eyed her warily, seemingly unable to undo his jeans. Brooke squinted at him, folded her arms, and stood back on one foot. She looked like she meant business.

“Now,” she said sharply.

“Boxers, too?” he asked.

She sighed in frustration, as if unable to fathom how he could ask such a dumb question.

“Yes!” she said, drawing out the word as if it should have been obvious. “No, instead, take all your clothes off. I won’t stand here and have you question me like that.” She tapped her foot impatiently.

“OK,” he said humbly.

“OK, what?”

“OK… Mistress?”

“Yes, that’s correct. You will call me Mistress. That’s ‘Yes, Mistress,’ or ‘No, Mistress.’ That’s all you’re allowed to say until I'm done with you,” she said with a smile. “Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good! Now take your clothes off.”

Brooke watched as he removed his jeans, shirt, shoes, socks, and boxers. His cock seemed shy, hiding from her bold persona. She smiled with an air of amusement and superiority. Then, she turned and sat down on a straight-back chair set in the middle of the living room.

“Across my knees, Clayton. Now.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied obediently.

She calls the shots

It was awkward for both of them to have him over her knees. They found it worked if he stretched his arms to the floor at her side. But even then, it wasn’t ideal. Brooke had done some reading up online about the proper way to spank so as not to seriously hurt the spankee or her hand. She cupped her hand slightly above his butt and let it fall forcefully. Clay yelped, and instantly a red mark appeared on his ass. Brooke was fascinated with this reaction, preceded by hand striking flesh.

She brought her hand down hard again on his other cheek and got the same response. Again, the sight of a red mark welling on his bare butt fascinated her. She thought for a moment how she might like it if Clay spanked her. Of course, that lovely pink color would appear on her ass, too.

Brooke felt the slit in her skirt drop open. His cock welcomed the freedom of this opening because it rubbed against her bare thigh. The sensation made his cock stiffen a little, but Brooke ignored it. She laid another swat on his butt, on the starting cheek again. This swat upon swat made his flesh turn a brighter shade of pink.

Once again, she switched cheeks, laying another swat on the second. She forgot to cup her hand this time, which made a bright pink handprint on his butt, as well as a loud yelp. His butt had jiggled with that one, which interested her. She felt a twinge of arousal in her loins. That was something she never expected!

On the next swat, she made sure to catch a glimpse of the impact of her hand on him. Sure enough, the flesh on his butt flattened for an instant from the impact. Brooke gave him a quick break. He was breathing hard.

“How of these do I have to take?” he asked.

“As many as it takes until I feel you’ve atoned for your sins,” Brooke said.

“How many is that?”

SMACK!

Her hand came down on his anus. She hadn’t meant to swat him there. His cock had become hard and stiff. She hadn’t expected this either, but it was a natural effect of rubbing against her thigh.

“You will address me as Mistress, naughty boy!” she barked, spanking him as hard as she could.

Clayton yelped and started to sob, but his hard-on didn’t go away. Could it be that a spanking turned some men on like she’d heard it turned some women on? It was something about the act, and additionally, there was the heightened possibility of clit against knee or cock against thigh.

Next, she lay six swats in quick succession, bringing her strong and handsome husband to tears. She thought that that made a dozen swats, but she wasn’t sure. Brooke then lay down two sets of four, slowly. She felt he was done.

Clay lay across her lap, his butt a burnished pink color. He was no longer breathing heavily, but his hard cock still rubbed against her thigh. Then Brooke got an idea.

She went into the kitchen and got a dinner plate and the tub of coconut oil she sometimes used for cooking. Brooke brought these into the living and set them on the coffee table. Then she told him what she wanted from him.

“Do it. Squirt your load on the plate.”

“What?” Clayton asked dumbly, unsure why she would ask him to do such a thing.

“You know, jerk off,” she explained, making a jerking motion with her hand.

“But...” he began.

“You’re being punished, young man! You don’t get any say in how you’re punished! And you’ll get no relief from me! Now get going!”

Clayton felt surprised and excited by his trim, demure wife talking like this. She played in a major US orchestra, led by a well-known conductor! No one would believe him if he told anyone, not that he’d want to.

She makes the commands

Brooke sat in the chair and watched him as he knelt next to the coffee table and took his dick in his hand. He opened the jar of coconut oil and scooped some with his fingers. Then he spread it along his shaft, which was starting to wilt. Funny, neither of them had thought of coconut oil as a sexual lube. It should have been a no-brainer—the stuff was natural, edible, and cheap compared to the synthetic stuff. It didn’t feel much different, either, apart from the initial graininess.

Watching him get into stroking himself in front of her as if on display, Brooke began to get quite interested. She opened her slender legs, allowing him to see her pussy folds part. But she didn’t touch herself. Instead, she placed her hands on her knees, and watched intently.

“Does that feel good, slave-boy?” she asked at the sound of his first moan.

“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Well, keep going. I want every drop you’ve got deposited on that plate,” she said as she casually examined her fingernails.

Clay said nothing, so she stopped looking at her fingernails and stared at him. Then she spoke.

“What do you say?”

“Oh, um, yes Mistress,” he replied.

“That’s better,” she said, going back to her nails.

Soon, the level of Clayton’s arousal began to betray him. The first indication of how much this turned him on were his moans. Brooke looked over the rim of her glasses when she heard them. His cock was very hard, and slick and shiny with coconut oil. His cock stuck up at more of an angle than she’d noticed before.

Up to now, Brooke had feigned a haughty disinterest in his masturbatory activity. Now, his arousal turned her on something fierce. But to stay in character as the haughty Mistress, she couldn’t let on how hot she was. She hoped the juice welling up in her pussy didn’t give her away.

Clay’s muscles tightened, and he began to pant. Brooke noticed his movements get more urgent, and knew he was about to cum. Then he cried out, and a huge spurt of white cum splattered on the decorative black plate. She felt pussy juice ooze from between her cunt lips. The initial spurt of cum was followed by several more, landing on the plate so that it looked like abstract art.

“Squeeze it all out, that’s the way! I want every delicious drop. Empty those balls, come on!”

Her strong husband looked so hot trying to milk cum from his cock. It gave her another idea, the naughtiest idea she’d ever had. She wasn’t about to mention it, though. Maybe not for a few months, at least. Clayton squeezed the last pathetic drop of cum from his cock. Then Brooke stood up.

Brooke looked at the result of his self-milking on the plate.

“Not bad,” she said. “Nowhere near enough for a dessert sauce for half a dozen women, but it’ll do.”

Clay gave her a strange look.

“Lie down on your back, slave.”

She stood tall, legs open, waiting. Nothing. Brooke raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Yes, Mistress!” Clay blurted quickly.

“That’s better,” she said, walking toward him until she stood directly over his head. She spread her pussy lips apart. “See how wet I am? And my clit, see how hard it is?” She focused on showing him the hard little nub at the top of her slit.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“The next order of business is for you to satisfy me with your lips and tongue. But first, I need to get into position.”

She receives the pleasure

With that, she lowered herself onto his face. Clay knew what to do, he was no novice at eating pussy. He put his tongue to work right away, lapping at her inner lips.

“Oh, yeah! That’s what I needed! Lick it, slave!”

She felt a trickle of juice flow from her and coat his lips and chin. Damn, that felt so fucking sexy! Now, she slid back and forth on his face, her wetness smearing it. She laughed at Clayton’s muffled voice as he commented on how wet she was.

“No talking while you’re eating, slave! Keep on task!” she teased.

As if to prove her own weakness, he went right for her clit. First, he sucked the nub (as well as he could). Then, just as she began to get steaming hot, he lapped her clit rapidly up and down.

“Fuck! Yeah, right there! You’re gonna make me cum! Oh!”

A tremor went through her body like an electric jolt as she came, eyes clenched tight, biting her lip. Then Clay started to lap at her entrance, flicking and fucking her hole with his tongue. He held her thighs tight, so she wouldn’t try to escape. She squealed as she came again, bucking her cunt against his face.

He wasn’t through with her yet. Clay licked and lapped along the length of her wet slit, avoiding contact with her clit. Brooke looked down at his head between her thighs and pulled back the hood of her clit to expose it, tempting him.

“Ooh, please! Lick it, please!”

“Lick what?” he teased.

“My little clit, baby! Please?” she begged.

“I thought you’d cum already,” Clay said.

“More! Come on, please sweetie?”

He looked up at her. As she looked down at him his eyes were bright. A mischievous look was on his face. “I thought my name was slave-boy.”

“It is! Again! Please make me cum again!” she said, sliding her cunt on his face.

“So, who has the upper hand now, slave girl?” he teased. “Is all this fair play, a delicious twist to show who really serves who?”

“You bastard! Get me off!”

“Sorry, got no more. You made me drain myself,” he said as he dipped his index finger into her honeypot.

Without warning, Clay reached behind her and plunged his pussy-juice lubricated finger into her tight ass. Then he began a wild onslaught of her clit, licking and flicking it. He dug into it with his tongue, leaving no choice but for her to succumb.

Brooke shrieked as she came. She fell forward slightly, her long brown hair falling in her face. As she tried to get away, she turned to the side, rolling onto the carpet. Clayton went with her, his finger not even coming from her ass.

Now, she lay on her back, Clayton between her thighs as he went at her. Her pussy juice then let forth a sweet-tasting flow. It coated his mouth, chin, and dripped down his neck.

“No more! I’m good! I’m good!” Brooke begged.

He stopped his oral work and slid his finger from her ass. Then he placed a hand on her heaving belly to calm her down. He reached for her hand and held it. They were silent for a few minutes.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mistress?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

Then Brooke thought for a moment about the idea she’d had earlier.

“But someday I’m gonna play you and drain you like you’ve never been drained before!”

“Sounds great! I can’t wait!”