Dominating my husband. Chapter 4.
Karen Young	Karen12613@aol.com
My husbands begins to accept my dominance over him.


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


The next day, I awoke early and went for a jog. I felt absolutely 
terrific. My tight legs and buttocks carried me through the brisk autumn 
air. I thought of nothing but Mike, and what I had done to him. I knew 
how difficult that had to be for him, especially for him. I also knew 
that it was absolutely necessary if he was ever going to accept his 
submission. I was fairly confident that he would. I mean, how could he 
do what he did with out knowing that I controlled him. 

I arrived home about an hour later and found him in the kitchen making 
breakfast. He seemed in a good mood. I couldn’t help but notice the way 
he starred at me. I was wearing short shorts, with a cropped tang top. 
“How was your run?” 

“Great, thanks for making breakfast.” I reached over him, to get a dish, 
but also to give him a close up look at my arm and breasts. He had no 
choice but to notice my biceps bulge as I reached for the plate. His 
stare lingered, then dropped to my thighs as I sat. He really hasn’t 
seen my body in broad daylight in a while. He was becoming interested in 
the muscles that had dominated him so. “You like what you see?” 

He blushed immediately, but he did not look away. “I do, I always have. 
But now, I don’t know, its different.” 

“It is different. A lot has changed.” I stood and walked toward him. He 
quickly backed into a corner. 

“Hey Karen, I just want to talk, please, no rough stuff.” 

I moved my hand to his face and he flinched. “Mike, I just want to talk 
too. I just wanted to get close. You haven’t seen me since I’ve been 
hitting the weights.” I put my arms around his neck. “Do you like how 
they’ve improved me.” 

“I do. Who wouldn’t.” I tried to look him in the eye, but he kept his 
glance at my bare shoulders and arms. 

“Would you like to touch them,… while I make a muscle?” 

He blushed again, but answered. “Yes, very much so.” 

I held up my right arm and flexed my muscle. Again, my arms where not, 
and still are not, huge by any means. But they are hard and defined, 
probably as big as the average man. He was captivated by the hard bulge 
and tentatively put his hand on it. It was funny, but his hand actually 
looked smaller compared to my biceps. He took it in his hand and tried 
to squeeze it, unsuccessfully. He brought his other hand up, and 
squeezed it with both hands. I was able to keep it flexed and he could 
barely dent it. We were both getting turned on. “Would you like to feel 
my thigh?” 

He went to his knees. “Please!” 

I flexed my thigh, turning it before him. He took it in his arms, and 
sort of embraced it. I was so hot, I couldn’t believe it. “You see why I 
can do what I did last night.” 

“Yea, I see, and feel.” He stood again. “I’m just not sure I understand. 
Why are you doing these things to me? How do you think it makes me feel 
to have a wife who can do those things at her will.” 

I just smiled. “How it makes you feel is exactly why I do it. Because I 
can, and you can’t stop me. It is an amazing turn on for me to dominate 
you, and make you suffer and serve me at my wish.” 

“But Karen, how am I supposed to just accept it. I mean, you’ve really 
hurt me. I realize now, how strong you are, but that doesn’t make it 
right, what you’ve done.” 

“Well I’m afraid that’s how it is. I suggest you get used to it.” I 
walked away and sat down and started eating. “You are obviously aroused 
by it, so fighting it really makes no sense. Its as plain as the bulge 
in you shorts.” I giggled and he immediately blushed. 

“That’s not fair Karen. Of course I’m turned on. I mean, your 
practically naked, flaunting your body, what guy wouldn’t be. I just 
don’t know that you should take advantage that way.” 

We talked like this through breakfast. Me explaining how thrilling it is 
for him to submit to me, him explaining how humiliating it is to submit 
to me. I was actually very happy we were at least discussing it. Lisa 
had told me his acceptance would come in slow increments, but it would 
come. I just had to continue training him. 

We finished eating and I asked him to clean up. “I think we both should 
clean up Karen.” 

“Mike, you are not getting it. I can make you clean up, if I have to. 
I’d rather just sit and read the paper, its a lot easier on both of us, 
but if you insist.” I got up and walked toward his chair. 

“Oh great, now you’re going to twist my arm until I do what you say?” 

I smiled. “Something like that.” 

He got up. “Karen, forget it, you clean up.” He darted for the door and 
I quickly grabbed after him. He squeezed by me and I caught him in the 
living room and tackled him. I grabbed him by his shorts, pulling them 
half way down in the process. He was twisting and pulling, trying to 
escape. I just straddled him on his side and took his wrists in my 
hands. He was struggling but I was clearly stronger than him, able to 
hold him firmly in place. 

“Mike. I want you to stop.” 

“Make me. You’ve already stopped me. What else do you want?” 

“I want you to go in that kitchen and clean up our mess.” 

“Clean it yourself!” 

Now, I was holding his wrists in my hands close to his chest. I took one 
and pinned it under my knee. Then I took both hands and clasped his 
other wrist. I then was able to control it easily and slapped his face 
with his own hand. He fought it, but was no match for my strength. It 
was doubly humiliating, having his wife use his own hand to slap him. I 
did it repeatedly, for several minutes. 

“Who’s going to clean the mess Mike?” 

He just struggled, but didn’t respond. I started slapping him harder, 
again swelling his face. His knuckles were getting red and sore. His 
eyes, puffy and red. “I can go on all day. Do you really want that. All 
you have to do is clean up.” I bent close to his ear and talked like a 
little girl. “That’s not so hard now, is it Mikey.” 

He started crying. I mean, really crying. Not from pain, but 
embarrassment and humiliation. I just held him, watching him wail. 
“Mike, I know what you must think. Yes, I am enjoying this, but I don’t 
want you to cry over it. I just want you to do what you’re told. Crying 
wont help. What’s it going to be?” 

After a couple of more minutes, he submitted. “Alright. I’ll clean up. 
Please let me go.” 

“There’s on other thing.” 

“What?” 

“I want you to do it naked. When I get off of you, I want you to take 
all of your clothes off to clean up.” 

I got off him and he gingerly stood. His stance was slumped and tired. 
“Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” 

I stood close to him as he lowered his shorts, removed his T-shirt, and 
finally, took off his briefs. Though not completely erect, his cock was 
reasonably hard. I took his upper arm and escorted him into the kitchen. 
I sat and he started removing the dishes and glasses. He stacked them 
neatly on the counter and started washing the frying pan. As he scrubbed 
it, his balls and penis would giggle back and forth and his somewhat 
soft butt cheeks would bounce. I pushed my hand underneath my loose 
shorts and fingered myself to orgasm before he was finished. 

When he turned around, I was pleased to see his cock was now completely 
upright in full erection. “Very impressive.” I told him. “You see, you 
are starting to enjoy this.” 

He smiled his shy smile. “I can’t argue with this.” He gestured toward 
himself. “What would you like me to do about this?” That moment was 
really special and an electric jolt went through me. He was totally 
subservient to me. 

I had to think fast. Lisa said this would happen. She said it would be a 
real good opportunity to take further advantage of him, without having 
to resort to physical torture. “Get me a glass please.” 

He did. 

“Now,” I stood and walked close to him. My hard tan body, scantily clad, 
in sharp contrast to his pale soft body. “I want you to masturbate, and 
collect it in this glass.” 

“Serious?” 

“Very.” 

He started wanking himself, just like that. I handed him the glass and 
his breathing picks up. “Be sure you catch it all. Don’t spill a drop.” 
He’s really into it and I am so hot watching him that I start to sweat. 
After only a few moments, he ejaculates, carefully positioning the glass 
to catch his shooting white juice. It is a terrific orgasm, rivaling the 
one he did that first night. There is an appreciable amount collected at 
the bottom of the glass. 

He’s finished and just looks up at me, while he holds the glass proudly. 
“How was that?” 

“Very good Michael.” I move even closer and take his free arm in my 
hand. I want to twist it, but I hold back. “Now,… drink it please.” 

“What for?” 

“Because I asked you to.” I slightly squeezed his wrist and he looked 
into the glass. After a moment, he drank from it, sucking it down. A 
small amount dripped from his lip and he licked it with his tongue. It 
was the first time I ever had an orgasm while standing. I did all I 
could do not to pass out. “Very good.” I let go of him and started 
walking out. “I’m going to shower.”