Angela in charge
By Glockguy
A wife trained in Jiu Jitsu torments her husband one night, to the excitement of their teenage son.


Angela gripped him by the hair and yanked his head into a position more firmly
between her constructive thighs. His nose just touching the crack of her
full-sized ass, which was scantly covered by purple sheer panties, Brian
moaned in pain, and clawed away at his wife's meaty legs. She had insisted he
paint her toenails while she watched TV, and he had refused. His training was
coming along nicely, but it was obviously not yet complete. Now immobilized on
the bed by his wife's shapely legs, forced to endure the humiliation of having
his face rammed into her ass while his jaw was crushed between her milky
thighs, and plead helplessly for release, he found himself ready to give in.

"Stop! I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want! Let me go!" he shouted.

"I know you will. But I'm not convinced you're committed yet," said Angela. "I
want to hear you beg."

"Please. Please stop," Brian replied, whimpering now, truly pleading.

Angela grabbed him by the hair, as if mistrusting his intentions, and opened
up her legs. She wore a long white t-shirt, panties, and nothing else.

She spoke, "Are you ready to paint my toenails?"

"..yes," Brian replied softly, beaten.

Angel swung her leg out from underneath her husband's head, and positioned
herself beside his prostrate body. She grabbed his right arm, pulled it
between her long legs, and then planted a the sole of her left foot across his
mouth, while gingerly bending his wrist in her hand.

"What just happened? I want you to tell me," Angela demanded, practically
giggling.

Brian moved his head to the side so his mouth was free from her foot, and
spoke. "Angela, come on. Let me go and I'll paint your toenails. Stop
already!"

Angela lifted her foot into the air and sternly tapped him on the face with
it, evoking a physical resistance from Brian's body. She corrected his
rebellion by sharply bending his wrist, causing him a jolt of pain.

"You're not getting it. I asked you a question, and you will NOT be happy
until you answer it, Brian."

He replied, "you beat me up."

She swirled her pretty little foot around his face, humiliating him, daring
him to resist again with his wrist bent downward in her hands.

"I did," she said. "Why did I beat you up?"

"Please..." Brian started.

She lifted her foot and tapped his face again sharply. She then put the sole of
her foot over his mouth and fastened his head in place with it. She gripped
tighter on his wrist.

"Are you stupid? What did I say??" she said. She removed her foot from his
mouth and placed it firmly on his throat.

Brian lie still, looking straight up at the ceiling, feeling like a complete,
demsculated fool.

"You beat me up because I did not do what I was told when I was told to do
it." He recited, learning, becoming more obedient in remembering his
instructions.

Angela smiled and brushed her raven hair out of her face. She was 38 years
old, but didn't look a day over 30. Tall, toned, trained in Brazilian Jiu
Jitsu, Italian-American with little patience for her wimpy WASP husband, who
had long become useless to her for any other purpose but as a sometimes sex
toy, and the family's breadwinner -- and, of course, toenail painter -- Angela
was pleased with herself. Her husband, he would be trained to learn more
duties. In due time.

She leg go of Brian's arm, and swung herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"Get up," she directed.

Brian obliged, and slowly recovered himself to the side of the bed, sitting,
holding his jaw in his hand. He was about to speak, but..

"Come on, Go get the nailpolish," Angela commanded, pointing to a bureau at
the end of their bedroom. She stared menacingly at her weaker husband. He was
on the clock.

Brian, feeling the pressure, jumped up from the bed and strided over to the
nailpolish. Grabbing it, he returned his wife's stare, but quickly averted his
eyes.

She walked over to him and grabbed him by the arm, and flipped him overonto
the bed, on his back. Not releasing his arm, she adroitly slide behind him on
the bed, and with her other hand, pulled his head between her thighs again,
this time the back of his neck firmly against her privates. She clamped her
legs shut, and locked her ankles.

Brian let out a small groan, clasping the nailpolish bottle in his free hand.
Angela released his arm.

"K. Let's go. Get to work. And if you get any paint on my toes, well, you're
not going to do that and you know why. Right??" She said.

Brian replied, "Okay!"

Brian unscrewed the nailpolish bottle, and Angela relaxed her scissorhold and
unlocked her ankles, waiting to be painted.

The moment Brian put brush to toenail, they heard a noise in the recesses of
their home. Angela presumed their 16 year old son was just getting in.

She giggled. "Focus now. Do a good job!"

Brian painted her painted a couple toenails when their bedroom door creaked
open. Their son, Jason, peaked his head into their room.

"Mom..." he said.

Angela smiled and tilted her head back as she fixed her benevolent stare on
her son.

Jason, upon seeing the predicament in his mother's bedroom, stood in the
doorway of it and stared, dumbfounded. He had witnessed his mother ordering
his dad around the past few months. And on a couple ocassions, he'd even seen
her physically discipline him. Once, when Brian had refused to bring his
cleared breakfast plate to the sink to be washed, she pulled his arm behind
his back and demanded he clear the entire breakfast table, and then wash all
of the dishes. All this right in front of their son, who had lost a great deal
of respect for his father that morning, but tried never to show it.

"What are you DOING?!" Jason exlaimed.

Brian heard his son and attempted to bring his head forward, and out of
between the legs of his wife, but Angela quickly squeezed, her thighs
enveloping her husband's heads, until all sound was shut out of his ears by
them. She grabbed a headful of his hair and held his head in place.

"Dad's just painting my toenails. What is it, honey?" Angela said, now rather
impatiently. Brian tried to speak, but Angela tugged his hair, and he
conceded.

Jason stared at the scene before him for a few moments before he spoke. He
could hardly believe his eyes. But shortly, his gaze became more focused on
his mother's strong, milky legs wrapped authoritatively around his dad's head,
until that was all he was looking at. Her legs.

"I...why.. I justed wanted to ask you something. Forget it. I'll ask tomorrow.
I have to go to bed." Jason darted out of the room with an erection that
Angela thought she caught a glimpse of, but wasn't sure.

Brian spoke, "Angela! This has gone too far! Can you hear me? I can't hear
anything, my ears are squashed. Ange--"

Angela replied, "Oh will you shut up!" She smacked him on the forehead, locked
her ankles, and squeezed. Brian groaned. Angela giggled. She released her grip
slightly so that he could hear.

"Finish the job, fagboy."

Brian did. When he completed, Angela informed him that he had one more task
before the night was through. But not before looking over her toes to approve
of the last job. She was pleased with it.

"Go put the nailpolish back," she said, getting up from the bed. She slide off
her panties and placed them on a chair beside her. Her t-shirt dangling half
way down her ass, leaving half of her bottom exposed, and just barely covering
her front end. Her thighs were well developed and defined, but not to the
point of masculinity. She was still extremely feminine, curves, soft skin, and
all.

"Then go brush and floss, and do what you have to do in the bathroom. Come
back out, and we can finish up and go to bed," she ordered.

Brian did what he was told, ashamed of himself, and showing it with an
emasculated expression. When he came out of the bathroom he looked around the
bedroom, but it was empty. Suddenly, bap, he was kicked in the stomach, and
his wrist was yanked outward by his wife. She twisted it behind his back and
positioned herself behind him, grabbing him by the throat and pulling back.
She had snuck him.

"Knees!" she shouted.

Brian did not understand. He struggled, grabbing her arm with his free hand,
and trying to twist his body out of the hold. "What are you doing?? Let go,
you're choking me!" he pleaded.

Angela pulled up on his arm, sending a jolt of pain through his body, as she
pulled back on his throat with her other arm. She placed a knee behind one of
his own and pushed.

"Get on your knees! NOW!" she bellowed.

He did so immediately, half through his own choice, half because she forced
him there.

"Stop! Why are you doing this? I--" he said.

"Shut up!" Angela insisted. She forced him onto his stomach on the floor of
their bedroom, and straddled his back, holding tight his arm behind his back.
She had him inc ontrol now. He was subdued. She grabbed his other arm, and
also placed it behind his back. "You know why I'm doing this. You need to be
taught. I told you, I'm in charge now, and I'm tired of not using my skills to
make it so. My physical skills that is. Reason is no longer an option, Brian.
You will do what you are told, when you are told to do it, at every step in
this marriage, or you will be put in pain by me. This is just the way it is.
There is no getting around it."

"How can you hate me so much?? Why would you want to put your own husband in
pain, and order me around like I'm a slave or something! This isn't NORMAL,
Angela! What about Jason? He saw us before and this isn't a good influence on
him! At least think of--" Brian was intterupted.

"Jason will be fine, dear," Angela said. "He knows who the head of this
household is, and he knows how disobedient you can be. In fact, I suspect he
likes our new arrangement." She, just for effect, pulled his arms upward,
putting Brian in pain. He moaned as if on cue. Angela smiled slyly.

Jason stood in the hallway, his body pressed up against the wall, listening
through the wall the goings on in his parent's bedroom. He couldn't control
himself. He was as hard as a rock, his hand on his crotch, listening to his
mom dominate his father, completely turned on.It was driving him nuts thinking
of his mom physically besting his dad, having her way, demanding whatever she
wants from him, with his dad helpless but to obey or be abused. He had enough.
He had to see for himself. He had to see what was happening. He imagined his
mom's legs which he was already obsessed with, wrapped around his dad's head,
and he had to know more. He crept toward their door and lightly pushed it
open, peeking in.

Brian saw him. "Jason get the hell out of here! We're busy!" he said.

Angela laughed. "Yes, we're busy all right! Busy!" She laughed some more.

Jason stared, not even conscious of hiding his own erection, bulging in his
pants for his mom and dad to see. "Is everything all right?? I heard
screaming. What's going on? What are you guys doing??" He knew what they were
doing. But he needed an excuse to come into the room, to see more.. action.
His eyes once again went directly to his mom's legs. Straddled across his
dad's back. Her round butt poking out from under her shirt. It jiggled
slightly whenever Brian would twist or buck. Jason could not take his eyes off
her. He was mesmerized.

Angela noticed this and felt both amused and slightly worried. She knew she
might be taking things too far, but at the same time she didn't care too much
if her son saw her body, and she certainly didn't care if she saw him
reprimanding his father. That was probably unavoidable. She just had to know
her limits.

"Jason, honey, over there on the chair. Please bring those to me," she said as
she nodded her head in the direction of the chair. On it was draped a pair of
stockings she had wore to work. Jason saw them and couldn't believe what he
was being asked. But he complied all the same. He grabbed them and brought
them to his mom.

Brian spoke up, "Angela. This is NOT RIGHT! Tell him to get out of here and
LET ME UP! Enough is enough!"

Angela twisted his arm and said nothing. Brian groaned and continued to plead
his case. She grabbed the stockings from her son. "Thank you, honey. Okay,
maybe you'd better leave. Everything's okay in here."

Jason stood motionless, his eyes running up and down the lower half of his
mother. Angela felt a little put off by that, but somewhat excited too. Her
rational and emotional side as a loving mother fighting with a more primitive
side of her consciousness.

Brian struggled with his one arm free to get up, but it was a lost cause. He
was just flat out subdued, and didn't stand a chance. Angela effortlessly
grabbed his arm, returned it behind his back, and began to tie his hands
together with her stockings. Jason watched on, his erection bulging. Angela
noticed it as she was tying her husband's hands together.

"Jason. Leave now, okay?" Angela said.

Jason stood for a moment more as his mother looked up at him, and then he
quickly turned and strode out of the room.

Angela finished tying her husband's hands up, until they were immobilized
behind his back for good. She then popped up from off his back, and placed a
foot on his shoulder blade.

"I told you that you have one more job before bed. Don't make this anymore
difficult for yourself, Brian. You know it's not difficult for me to beat the
crap out of you. The more you fight me, the more you're going to get hurt. If
you try anything else, I'm going to strip you, hogtie you, and leave you in
the bathroom all night. And if you make noises while I try to sleep, I'm going
to come in there and kick your fucking teeth in. Do you understand?"

Brian sucked in air, silently. He knew he was beat. He was smart enough to
know that there was no hope in reasoning with her. Her will be done. And
that's just that. "Yes," he said reluctantly.

Angela grinned, bent over, and began pulling her husband's pants off of him.
Brian did not resist. She took them off, and flipped him over, only to be met
with a raging hard on, waving straight in the air. Brian was mortified. He had
been humiliated all night, but for some reason this was his low point. He
turned red with shame. He couldn't even look up at his wife, and had to turn
his head to the side. He lay on his back, his hands tied behind it, no pants
on, with a stiff erection pointing upwards at his dominant, martial artist,
half nude wife. There was no fight left in him whatsoever.

"What just happened?" Angela asked. She loved this part. She reveled in
forcing him to verbally admit he was physically defeated by his wife. It was
the most sexually arousing part of his training, for her.

"You beat me up again," Brian said quietly.

Angela stepped forward, and placed her bare foot on his hard penis, pressing
it down against his leg. "Whose bitch are you, Brian?" she demanded to know.

"Yours."

"Excuse me? From now on, when I ask you a question, I want you to call me
'domina'. Like slaves had to call their mistresses in ancient Rome. Now. Whose
bitch are you, Brian?"

"Yours...domina."

Angela grinded her foot into her husband's erect penis, as she stood towering
over him. "I want you to look at me. Look up at me," she instructed.

Brian looked up, with a mixture of fear, rage, hurt, and anguish in his eyes.
His eyes studied her leg, beginning with her foot on his crotch, and he
followed it all the way up to her t-shirt, then that up to her eyes.She looked
down on him in triumph.

"Tell me how you feel right now. You must feel like half a man, huh?" She
asked.

Brian didn't want to speak. He just wanted the night to be over. But he
replied as ordered, "Yes. I feel humiliated."

Angela pressed down hard on his cock. "What?"

"I feel humiliated... domina!"

She smiled, pleased, and released pressure.

"You must've known I could always beat you up, seeing as how I was training in
Jiu Jitsu when we met. But I bet you never thought I'd actually begin... doing
it, did you?"

"No, domina. I--I..."

"Go ahead. You what?" she needed to know.

"I remember a few times when we were engaged when you showed me some.. Jiu
Jitsu moves. Just playing around, you beat me up a little. But it was joking
around back then. Domina." he said.

Angela was a little taken aback by this memory of his. Why was he bringing
this up? He's half naked on the floor of their bedroom with her foot jammed
into his crotch, and his arms tied behind his back, being interrogated by his
wife who had put him in this predicament. It seemed an odd thing to say.

"Did that turn you on back then, too? Because, I mean, you've got a big old
hard on right now, and it's for serious now. So it must turn you on. I don't
really remember what particular instance you're ferring to. Vageuly, maybe. So
I don't remember if you were turned on by it at all. Were you?" she said.

Brian hesitated before he answered. He was beginning to tremple as his wife
began slowly but stiffly stroke his erect penis against his thigh with her
foot. She stared down at him, awaiting his answer.

"Of course I was, domina. One of the reasons I was attracted to you initially
was because of your Jiu Jitsu skills. It was really sexy."

"Was?" Angela said.

"Is. I guess. I don't like being beaten up. It hurts and I feel so humiliated.
How can we have a marriage like this?"

Angela applied pressure with her foot.

"Domina!" Brian remembered.

Angela realised she was playing with herself. She was getting turned on by
this revelation. "You'll just have to get used to being my bitch." She snapped
out of it, and removed her foot from his groin. His penis popped back up into
the air.

She bent over and pulled him to his knees, and stood before him. His face at
eye-level with her crotch. "Look at me," she said.

Brian looked up at his wife.

"I'm going to brush my teeth and floss. You're going to kneel behind me the
entire time, and worship my ass. Understand?"

Brian said, "yes domina."

Angela abruptly turned away and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the
light. Brian watched her ass motion as she walked.

"Come in and get to work," she said.

Brian began to inch his way into the bathroom on his knees, his hands still
tied firmly behind his back. It dawned on him how embarassing it was to be
tied up with stockings! And she did such a good job tying them too, as he
couldn't free himself from the bind at all.

Angela giggled at Brian's little crawl to the bathroom, his erection bouncing
with every inch forward. She turned on the faucet, grabbed her toothbrush out
of the holder, and began to put toothpaste on it. "Hurry up," she said.

Brian position himself behind her. Eye level with her ass, only the top of
which was covered by her t-shirt. He leaned forward and kissed a cheek.

Angela's stomach swirled. Big turn on. "I want you to put your nose in my
asscrack and keep it there until I say otherwise, okay?"

Brian did as he was told. "Yes domina."

"From now on this is what you do when I brush my teeth, put on makeup, or do
anything in front of this mirror, unless I say otherwise, okay? This is a new
rule. You won't have to be tied up for it if you follow it without complaint.
In fact, from this day forward, whenever I say, 'knees, nose, crack', you are
to get down on your knees, and put your nose in my asscrack. No matter where
you are, or what you're doing, you will drop to your knees, crawl over to me,
and place your nose in my ass, and await further instruction. Okay?"

Brian was nonplussed. Did she really mean this? How degrading! He can't
possibly be expected to follow such a perpetual directive.

"Hello??" Angela said to the silence.

"Yes...yes domina," Brain heard himself say. Did he mean it, he wondered? His
nose was buried in her ass. He knelt there, eyes open, filled with her skin
complexion, her round ass pressed against his face.

She continued to brush her teeth, taking an extra slow amount of time to do
it, savoring her new disciplinary method.

Out of nowhere, Angela caught out of the corner of her eye a glimpse of her
son. He was standing off to the side in the bedroom, peering around the corner
into the bathroom at his parents.

Angela spit out a glob of toothpaste into the sink, and said flatly, "Jason.
What do you want now?"

Brian instinctively pulled his face away from his wife's ass and turned his
head to find his son's presence.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, again," Jason said meekly,
from the bedroom.

"Brian!" Angela exclaimed sternly. She reached down and grabbed her husband's
hair, and positioned his face back into her own ass. "Jason, go to bed. Now.
Everything is fine. Stop coming in here without knocking first."

Jason stood motionless.

Angela didn't know what to do. "Okay, come here and help me with something
then." She turned for the first time to look directly at her son. Jason came
towards the couple in the bathroom. He looked down at his dad, on his knees,
hands tied behind his back, his nose buried in his mother's ass as she stood
before the sink, nude from the waist down. His gaze was magnetically drawn to
his mother's legs and bottom, again, however.

Brian began to protest. "Angela, please don't--". His wife in one fluid
movement, put her toothbrush down, quickly turned around, grabbed her husband
by the ears, and kneed him right in the face, pulling his face down into her
knee as it came up. Brian let out a cry and fell to his side, moaning.

Angela bent over him, her ass pointing directly at her son standing by, who
gazed, mouth wide open, at the violence, and the exposure of his mother's
pussy as she bent over his crying, beaten, tied up father. She smacked Brian
in the face for effect, and then grabbed his throat with one hand, and pointed
her finger in his face with the other. "What do you call me??"

"Domina! Domina please don't--" Brian was crying at this point. Tears welled
in his eyes as his jaw throbbed with pain. He was worried she might have
loosened a tooth or two.

Angela stood straight up and looked down at her wimpy husband, writhing,
moaning, crying on the floor of their bathroom. She directed her son, "help me
bring him to the bed."

Jason continued to stare, still, unmoving, somewhat afraid. Angela turned to
him and repeated her command. "Come on. Grab him by the arm, I'll get the
other."

Mother and son then picked up their crying relative and removed him to the
bed, where they tossed him onto it sideways. Brian's erection flopped around,
but even after having been nailed in the face by his wife's knee, in front of
their teenage son, he was as hard as he'd ever been.

Brian wailed, and began to curse and demand he be untied.

"Go to my dresser drawer and grab a pair of panties out of it, and bring them
here," Angela ordered her son.

Jason quickly did so. He was worried his mother was going to put them on to
cover her bottom. That bothered him. He asked, "what did he do, mom?"

Angela grabbed the panties. "He did what husbands do. But that will all
change, rest assured." She shoved the panties in the mouth of her loud
husband, which muffled significantly his cries to be freed. She then sat down
next to her husband on the edge of the bed, and crossed her legs, facing her
son. Brian's penis was inches away from her legs. She grabbed it tenderly with
her right hand, while looking up at her son. She began to stroke it
cautiously, almost lovingly.

"Jason, it's a new day around here. From now on your father will do as I say,
but you will still do as your father says, unless I veto any decisions he
makes without me. Your father is under my control, in every conceivable way.
Physically and mentally now." She stroked her husband's cock in front of her
son. She noticed again the bulge in her son's pants. And again she smiled at
this sight.

Jason continued to stare. Amazed, incredibly aroused.

Angela put an end to the situation. "Jason, it's time for bed now. Please go
to your room."

"Okay mom. Goodnight." He did not move though. He continued to leer at his
mother.

"And your father?"

"Goodnight....dad." Brian made a muffled noise from behind his wife's panties.

He turned slowly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Angela slapped her hand on her husband's thigh. "You misbehaved," she said.
"You're going to learn to follow orders if it's the last thing you ever do."
She got up from the bed and walked over to her dresser, opening it. She pulled
out another pair of stockings.

"Now you have to be punished," she remarked. She began to tie her husband's
feet together, and from there she used the slack of the stockings to tie
Brian's feet to his hands, effectively hogtying him in his own bed. Angela
then dragged him off of the bed, where he feel to the floor, on his side, with
a thump. She towered over him, proud of her work, and placed a foot on the
side of his face. Hands on her hips, she codly informed him, "and this is
where you will sleep tonight. Be thankful I'm not putting you in the bathroom,
and the cold linoleum." She paused for effect. Her husband made muffled
sounds, trying to defend himself verbally, but to no avail.

"And this is where you sleep. And tomorrow morning, you had better still have
an erection. Or you will be punished further. Goodnight Brian." She got into
her bed, under her covers, turned out the light, and began to masturbate.