Dominating my husband. Chapter 2.
By Karen Young	Karen12613@aol.com
Our first wrestling match behind us, I really start to teach my husband who is boss.


This is the story of how I came to dominate my husband. It, for the most 
part, describes real events in our lives. 

The day after I defeated Mike in our first wrestling match, he had to go 
to the doctor and have his shoulder x-rayed. It turns out he had some 
torn tendons and strained ligaments. He was both embarrassed and furious 
as he lied to the doctor, telling him that he hurt it horsing around 
with his nephew, showing him some wrestling moves. I merely giggled when 
he told me this. 

For the next two weeks, he was in a sling. He became extremely 
withdrawn, spending all his waking hours in his office typing line after 
line of computer code. He took on an almost melancholy mood. He made it 
very clear that he did not wish to discuss what had happened. 

I, on the other hand, was exhilarated beyond belief, with an energy 
level above any I ever had. At the gym a couple of days later, I spent a 
moment while I was changing into my workout clothes admiring my body. As 
I looked and felt, I was suddenly not so surprised that I was able to 
beat him like I did. I was in terrific shape, much harder than Mike. My 
thighs where toned and hard, yet still shapely. And my arms, while not 
sporting huge biceps, did have firm round muscles that where very much 
the equal of many men, I would suspect. Why shouldn’t I be stronger than 
Mike. I started to dispute the notion in my head that men where supposed 
to be the stronger sex. Why couldn’t a woman obtain the body size and 
muscle to compete favorably against a similar sized, or even larger man. 
Thinking about it, A woman, pound for pound, is likely stronger than a 
man. She certainly has more endurance. I got dressed and went into my 
workout with a vengeance. Easily finishing my aerobics and cycling 
classes, I went for calisthenics. Even after that, I was still so pumped 
that I wanted more. 

 Normally, I’d follow my girlfriends into the sauna, this time, I’d 
thought I stop and try the weight machine. Up until that time, I had 
never worked with weights, so I figured, why not? I was strong now, 
weights would only help. I sat on the stool and put the pin on fifty 
pounds of weight, and was surprised that I was able to lift it easily. I 
did ten repetitions, feeling my muscles push the weight up. ‘This is 
super’ I thought. I then went to the leg press and did ten repetitions 
there. I alternated between my legs and arms for 40 minutes. I then took 
a long sauna, relaxing my tired muscles. Even though I was winded, I 
felt that the weights where really going to be good for me, and vowed to 
add them to my normal workout. 

I returned home, only to find my husband locked in his office typing 
away. This went on for the two weeks he had the sling on, and for about 
a week after it was off. Fine, so he didn’t want to wrestle. Did that 
mean he was never going to make love to me again? I was becoming 
frustrated and wanted to talk to him about it, but he wanted nothing to 
do with that. So, I decided to talk to my girlfriend Lisa. 

Lisa is a psychologist at the college I attended. She’s my age, works 
out religiously, and seemed like the perfect person to discuss this 
with. I met her one day for lunch. 

“Are you serious Karen, he had to go to the doctor! No wonder he doesn’t 
want to talk about it,” Lisa said between bights of her salad. 

“What about what I want, Lisa? He’s just avoiding an obvious change 
that’s taken place. I want to pursue this.” 

“I don’t blame you. I would too. In fact, I bet there are a good many 
women who would like to join you. I think you should just confront him 
with it. Physically if you have to. Though I’d try to refrain from 
sending him to the doctor anymore. You don’t want to be brought up on 
charges.” 

We talked some more, and later that day, I decided to take her advise. 
When Mike came out of his office, I stood directly in front of him. I 
was wearing the same night shirt I had on the night of our first match. 
“Mike, the silent treatment is getting a little old. We have to talk 
about this.” 

He was obviously expecting this because he was neither surprised or 
angry. He seemed relaxed. “What do you want me to say Karen? That I 
enjoyed getting my arm broken. You could’ve really hurt me.” 

“I want you to admit that you enjoyed some part of it. At least a part 
of you did.” I stared down at his crotch, smiling knowingly. 

“That’s ridiculous. I was given no choice at that point. How would you 
feel if I did something like that to you?” 

“I’m not sure. I’d either accept it, or leave you. That’s not the issue 
here though. You can’t do it to me, I can do it to you. I think that’s 
the whole problem.” I placed my hands on my hips and took a defiant 
stance. I was trying to provoke him. 

“Listen to this. Just because you practically live at that gym, you’re 
becoming some kind of dom bitch.” 

He brushed beside me into our bedroom. I was fuming, I couldn’t believe 
he just called me a bitch. I went in after him, finding him in the 
process of undressing. “What did you call me?” 

“You heard me. I called you a dom bitch. What else would you call 
someone who did what you did?” 

“You listen to me. I did what I did because I thought it would be fun. I 
never meant to hurt you like that. It happened, so I suggest you accept 
it. I’m just trying to have a conversation with you. We haven’t talked 
in three weeks, or done anything else for that matter.” He knew what I 
meant. For us to go more than three days without sex was almost unheard 
of. “Now I suggest you take back what you said.” 

“Or what, you going to beat me up again?” 

I wasn’t sure what to do. I did not want to hurt my husband. But I 
couldn’t get over that fact that I had fantasized about our previous 
match every night over the last three weeks. The thought of getting 
physical with him again was extremely appealing. 

“Mike, I am asking you nicely. I want you to take back what you said to 
me.” 

“Stop fooling yourself, Karen, I’ve let you live in this fantasy world 
long enough.” With that, he charged me, throwing his remaining clothes 
off such that he was only wearing his boxers when he hit me. He was very 
angry, and tackled me with full force, much harder than he came at me 
the first time. I landed on my back with him on top of me. He rolled up 
on me and grabbed my shoulders and twisted me onto my side. He had a 
real fury in his eyes and for a moment, I was a little scared. He 
clamped his legs tight around my torso, painfully squeezing my breasts. 
My one arm was pinned between his legs, my other was firmly against the 
floor. I couldn’t move. He then slapped me on the back of my head. Not a 
hard slap, but it did get my attention. “Who’s a dom bitch now?” He 
almost spat. He clearly was exerting himself beyond his means. “How do 
you like it?” I actually wanted to tell him that it felt pretty good, 
but I didn’t have the heart. In truth, the physical contact was the 
first I had with him in three weeks and I was quickly aroused. He 
slapped my face, though with his awkward angle, he couldn’t get me good. 
Still, he did have me immobilized. 

Only my legs where free, but on my side, I couldn’t open them up to grab 
him. He crowed some more about how it feels when I started kicking my 
feet, spinning us around like a pinwheel. I finally got my feet to my 
dresser. I placed them on top, and pulled myself up with them, tossing 
his arrogant ass off of me. I was amazed at the strength in my legs. I 
was able to toss him easily. I’d been really hitting my workouts the 
past three weeks. Though I thought it would take longer, I could all 
ready feel how much stronger I was. You should have seen his face when 
he landed with a thud. He landed hard and was a little stunned. I 
pounced on him like a cat, quickly capturing one arm between my thighs 
similar to the way he had pinned mine. He was furious, and I really felt 
bad. He was really no match for me. He was kicking his legs up and I 
hooked under his left one and pinned it to my side with my right arm 
while I continued to straddle him. I then rolled slightly to his left, 
forcing his right arm behind him. Now he was completely immobilized, and 
I still had one free hand. I felt awesome. I just looked down at my 
prey, which is what he was now. His feeble struggles no match whatsoever 
for my hard female body. They did, however, have the effect of exciting 
my clitoris beyond belief as his abdomen messaged me ever so. I felt my 
blood rise. 

“How do you like it?” I teased. Sure, I felt bad, but he willingly asked 
for it. “Please, don’t waste your strength on your pathetic escape 
attempt. You’re no match for me.” With that, I actually flexed my biceps 
muscle in my free left arm like a body builder; which of course I 
wasn’t, but impressed myself nonetheless with a tight little bulge. That 
was enough for me as I again reached an explosive climax without even 
coming close to intercourse. This was great I thought, as waves of hot 
ecstasy coerced through my veins. I squeezed him tight and bent his leg 
further as the climax lingered on. 

After a few moments, I regained my composure. “Now, about that apology.” 

“Screw you!” 

“Mike, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. You’re going to 
have to learn that.” I started slapping his face. Not to hard, but hard 
enough to make it red. “Come on, I don’t want to hurt you again. But I 
can’t have you insulting me either. Apologize or else.” I started 
hitting him harder. He was sweating badly now, and I thought I saw tears 
starting to drip out the corner of his eyes. I was feeling bad, but 
great at the same time. “Mike,” I said in a long slow way. “Its starting 
to become more than you can stand. Surely you must know that you can’t 
get away. I suggest you just apologize, and I’ll release you.” I really 
loved talking this way to him. I was high on it. And the second orgasm 
that followed was just as strong. I ground my pussy into him, savoring 
every sensation. 

“OK, OK, I apologize. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry about what?” 

“I’m sorry I called you a dom bitch. I shouldn’t say things like that to 
you.” 

I swear, if it didn’t just stop, I would’ve came again. “And I know it 
wont happen again, right?” 

“It will never happen again.” 

“Very good. Now, when I get up, I want you to talk off your shorts. 
Understand?” 

“Why?” 

“Excuse me, but did you just question me? I said, understand. Your only 
response is ‘yes’.” 

“Yes.” 

I got up and release him. He just laid at my feet, his face red and 
swollen, his eyes puffy and tear filled. He gingerly removed his shorts, 
leaving him completely naked. 

I began gathering his clothes he tossed on the floor and I took his 
shorts from him. I placed them in the hamper. He slowly got up and moved 
to his dresser. I blocked him. “Not tonight dear. You need to stay this 
way. You are not man enough to have clothes. I want you to sleep in your 
office tonight. He shyly turned away and walked out of our bedroom. I 
closed and locked the door behind him. 

I laid in bed and contemplated what I was doing to my husband. He looked 
beaten tonight. Physically and mentally. Surely, there were laws against 
this. Or at least moral rules. I didn’t care. I was strong and powerful 
and beautiful and sexy. And I was a woman. I had the best orgasms I had 
ever had that night, and the night three weeks ago. While what I was 
doing was surely wrong, nothing I learned from my parents, or society in 
general. Yet it felt great, and filled a hunger I never knew I had. 
Filled my every desire, my every wish. I lay, considering dozens of 
wicked possibilities my future with Mike held. Yes, I was bad,… but it 
felt soooo good. I was real quiet and I could swear I heard him 
whimpering in his office. 

I stayed awake and masturbated half the night away.