Newlyweds
Mick Sloane
A woman helps her new husband understand his role in the relationship



	"Let's go to bed.  I have a big day tomorrow," Tori said, looking 
down at her husband, Mark.  He lay flat on his back on the living room 
floor, while she sat comfortably on his chest, watching television.  She 
had been sitting on him for an hour and a half, using him as her sofa, 
and he had lay perfectly still, keeping quiet.  She slid off of him now, 
sitting on the floor, looking at him expectantly.
	"Yes, Mistress," he said, getting up off his back quickly, and 
positioning himself on his hands and knees.
	Tori said nothing, sitting on his back, straddling him with one 
leg on each side.  She took a handful of his hair, pulling his head back, 
steadying herself, squeezing her legs together lightly against his sides, 
and he began to crawl, immediately.  He carried her up the stairs, on his 
back, as she held on to his hair, and increased her grip on his body with 
her legs to hold on.  She rode on his back, like a horse, through the 
house, and into their bedroom.
	He stopped in front of her dresser, and slowly lowered himself 
to the floor, so that he was laying flat on his stomach.  She remained 
sitting on his back, until he was flat on the floor.  Then Tori stood up, 
on his back, and undressed for bed.  As always, she wore nothing but 
tight bikini-briefs.  Her lovely, long legs and her firm, supple breasts 
were not covered when she went to bed, ever.  Her long, wavy, red hair 
fell on her bare shoulders, and her nipples were erect.  The bedtime 
ritual she had mandated always aroused her.  For heaven's sake, she 
had just ridden her husband through the house like a horse, and now she 
was standing on his back and undressing, as he lay flat on the floor in 
complete obedience.  She did not show her husband any signs of her 
arousal.  She was in complete control, as always.
	She stepped off of his back, onto the floor, facing the mirror on 
her dresser, her back to him.  She put her hands on her hips, and said 
"Good night, my love."
	Mark quickly rose to his knees, saying, "Good night, my 
Mistress."  He pressed his face to her left buttock, kissing it through her 
briefs.  She afforded herself a little smile.  Mark couldn't see, with his 
face against her ass.  She counted silently to herself.  He held his lips 
against her buttock for ten seconds, then moved his face to her right 
buttock, tenderly kissing that one for the same length of time.  
Deviating from what Tori had commanded would be met with strict 
discipline.
	After he kissed her butt, he quickly took off his clothing, all of 
it.  Tori did not allow him to wear any clothing to bed.  He got into bed, 
and assumed his position.  He lay flat on his back, with no pillow, in 
the middle of the bed.  His legs were straight, with his feet eighteen 
inches apart.  His hands were at his sides.
	Tori turned out the light, and climbed into bed.  She lay down 
on top of him, facing down.  She lay her head, and her soft hair on his 
neck, under his chin.  Her firm breasts pressed against his chest.  She 
began with her feet together, and her tummy on his penis.  He placed 
his hands on her lower back, sliding them into her briefs, holding one 
hand flat against each of her buttocks, as she had taught him.
	Tori smiled to herself, allowing herself to be soft against him, 
snuggling him, bending one of her legs at the knee, letting it rest on his 
thigh, in a position of ownership.  He belonged to her.  This is how she 
would sleep.  This was how she slept every night.  Laying nude on top 
of her husband, giving him a terrific erection which subsided only when 
she rose in the morning, forcing him to keep his hands inside of her 
panties, one on each buttock, at all times, so that he was completely 
under her control, even as she slept.  If he moved at all, he would wake 
her.
	She understood that this was extremely uncomfortable and 
humiliating for Mark, and that was why she loved it so.  She knew that 
he was unable to sleep in this position, with her nude on top of him, but 
he could sleep during the day, now that he wasn't working.  These 
sleeping rituals allowed her to exercise her sexual power over him, and 
to remind him every day, for six or perhaps eight hours straight, that 
she was superior to him, his Mistress.
	He knew that if he stirred, or did anything to wake her, that he 
would be beaten harshly.  That was part of the humiliation Tori happily 
put him through, when necessary.  He had to lie still as his beautiful 
wife slept nude on top of him, against his erect penis, with his hands 
inside her panties, flat against her buttocks, and he must not wake her.  
And if he had an orgasm against her, as she slept, she would thrash him 
mercilessly, and relish his sobbing and begging as she beat him.  
Occasionally, Tori pretended to sleep, and stirred on him, softly, 
slowly, moving her face on his neck, lightly grinding her crotch against 
his erection, tightening her buttocks against his hands, shifting her 
breasts on his chest, driving him to orgasm, then pretending to wake, 
beating him savagely.  It was important that he be reminded of his 
position frequently, and besides, Tori sometimes enjoyed beating him, 
humiliating him, making him beg her.  He was her husband.  He existed 
for her use and enjoyment.
	As she settled her head delicately on his neck, and felt his 
erection against her crotch, she was aroused by her own power.  She 
had seized total control in the relationship, as she always knew that she 
would, all of it, and they had only been married for a month.  As she 
rested on her husband, feeling him breathe slowly and quietly, in her 
mind she replayed the events which had led her to this position of total 
and complete superiority over her mate with great satisfaction.

	It was as an undergraduate in college that Tori decided to 
change the way she approached her relationships with men.  She was a 
beautiful woman with striking, long red hair, bright green eyes, milky 
white skin, and a fantastic body.  She had never had trouble finding 
men to date.  So many of them just weren't what she wanted them to 
be.
	On one occasion, during her sophomore year, a boyfriend 
became drunk and abusive with her, when they were alone in her 
apartment.  Tori was taller than average for a woman, at five feet, ten 
inches, and she had been active in dance and gymnastics all of her life.  
She had always been in great shape, with long, muscular legs.  When 
this man she was dating yelled at her, and struck her, in her own 
apartment, she snapped.  She beat the shit out of him, humiliating him, 
making him cry, making him beg her for mercy.  She never went out 
with him again, but she changed her approach to dating from that 
moment on.  Tori became a predator.
	She changed her major to psychology that same year, and she 
got straight A's.  She continued to date throughout her time in college, 
but she frequently brought men home, beat them, dominated them 
physically as well as emotionally, broke their spirits, forcing them to 
beg and grovel.  She studied wrestling and fighting in books and videos.  
She used her physical skills, her mental abilities, her understanding of 
the male psyche, and above all her sexuality to utterly destroy and 
defeat them.  
	She rarely dated the same man twice.  It was not that the men 
she dominated did not want to see her again -- she found that most of 
them truly loved what she did to them, and would have gladly 
continued to see her, often begged, in fact, to see her again, even after 
severe beatings and total humiliation.  She simply had no desire to 
settle with any one of them at that point in her life.  She found it much 
more desirable to find new ones to destroy and humiliate.  Over the 
years, she became quite skilled at it, and very confident in her ability to 
bring much larger men to their knees before her.
	Tori went on to law school, graduating at the top of her class.  
She had a great many friends, women and men, and she continued to 
date, bringing men home and taking them apart in every sense of the 
expression.  Word of her exploits never got out, and she never feared 
that it would, because the men she beat and humiliated would never 
publicly admit what hand happened to them, and she knew this.  
Further, most were truly afraid of her, and often, at the same time, 
continued to fantasize about Tori long after their "experiences" with 
her.
	She was a model daughter, sister, and friend.  Her non-sexual 
relationships were very "normal," very mundane.  She was very 
approachable, and people generally felt very at ease in her presence.
	She took a job as an associate attorney at a small, but 
prestigious, law firm.  She specialized in litigation, and was as ruthless 
in the courtroom as she was in her bedroom.  She was paid very well.  
Outside of the courtroom, however, she was well-liked by her 
colleagues and had many friends.  She continued, in her personal life, 
for several years, to meet men, bring them home, and destroy them, 
having her way with them, always.  She had little trouble finding 
attractive men to ask her out, as she was a gorgeous woman.  She was 
in fantastic shape, working out four or five times a week at the gym, 
and continuing to take dance classes in the evenings.  Men practically 
fell over one another to ask her out.  She emanated physical, sexual, 
and intellectual power, and the men she dated found out too late what 
she really wanted from them.
	She knew she would settle down one day.  Tori wanted a 
husband and kids, just like most other women.  She knew, though, that 
she would never be a "soccer mom."  She would be in complete control 
in her relationship with her husband, just as she had been over the years 
with her many boyfriends.  Anything less would be not be desirable, 
and Tori accepted it as a matter of fact that the husband she chose 
would be her life-long slave, and that he would love it, and love her.  
And she would love him.
	She had met Mark about six months ago.  She was thirty years 
old, as was he.  She had liked him from the very beginning.  She met 
him at one of those mixers for young professional people.  He was very 
handsome, in good shape.  A few inches taller than her, muscular, but 
not in a bulky way, healthy.  Dark hair, nice tan, cute little butt.  He was 
in the advertising business, an account executive at a big agency.  He 
had a wonderful personality, and a good sense of humor.  He was very 
confident, as good-looking men always are, but he wasn't arrogant or 
presumptuous.  He was decent, respectful, and nice to her from the 
start.  
	He asked her out, and they had a wonderful date.  She had 
decided after first meeting him that he might be "the one," and so she 
had promised herself that their relationship would be very "normal," at 
least at the beginning.  She would restrain herself.  She would not beat 
him, make him cry and beg.  She would be a normal girlfriend.  She 
wanted him to fall in love with her, and she wanted to fall in love with 
him.  If that happened, the rest would fall into place later.
	They had wonderful times together, and she knew in her heart 
that he was the one for her.  After only a few dates, she stopped seeing 
other men, and he stopped dating other women.  They saw each other 
often.  She made no effort to be dominant in the relationship, short of 
paying for their dates about half of the time.  She knew that he did not 
make a lot of money in the advertising business, and besides, it was the 
nineties.  She was making great money, and the fact that he wasn't did 
not concern her in the least.
	After a couple of months, they started sleeping together.  Their 
sex was very normal, other than the fact that he told her that she was 
the best he had ever been with.  This pleased her greatly, and she 
believed it.  He was fantastic in bed, too, though the actual sex in which 
they were engaging was not to her tastes, nor what she was used to.  
Still, Mark was wonderful, strong, gentle, passionate, affectionate.  She 
had fallen in love with him, was convinced that she wanted to spend 
her life with him.  He had all of the proper raw materials, and would be 
a wonderful husband and, some day, father.  They met one another's 
family and friends, and everyone felt certain that they were a great 
match.
	He asked Tori to marry him after they had been dating for about 
three months.  She cried real tears of joy when he asked, she accepted, 
and was truly happy.  They decided to marry sooner rather than later, 
setting a date only two months away.  She took charge of the wedding 
preparation, as he would expect her to do.  She was careful to 
incorporate his wishes into their plans, though, as she wanted the day to 
be very special for both of them.
	They were married in a lovely chapel, surrounded by a medium-
sized group of family and friends.  They had a lovely reception, for 
which she paid.  He protested initially, but she knew he had little 
money, and she was doing extremely well.  The money wasn't 
important to her.  Her career was going great, and it looked as though 
she would always have plenty.
	After their wedding, they went on a cruise for their honeymoon, 
for which Mark paid.  He had insisted, and Tori had let him.  They had 
a wonderful time, lounging and drinking, eating and cavorting.  They 
had fantastic sex, several times a day.  He had a great sex drive, which, 
Tori noted, would be very helpful when they got back home, and it 
became time to enter the next phase of their relationship.  She had gone 
over it in her mind countless times.  He was to move in with her, as she 
had already bought a nice little house a year or two ago.  They would 
have plenty of space for now.  
	Then it would begin.  She would not wait, allowing him to fall 
into bad habits or to assume any kind of pretense of control in the 
relationship.  She would start immediately, teaching him his role, 
molding him into the kind of husband that she would insist that he 
become.  It would take little time, she would not allow it to take long.  
He would learn, and he would obey her, or he would be disciplined.  
And he would love it.  She knew that he would.  Because she would 
love it.  And he would love whatever she did.  Nothing less would be 
tolerated.  She thought about this whenever they made love during the 
honeymoon, and it brought her tremendous arousal.
	
	Tori lay in her bed, remembering these events, laying on her 
subservient husband, feeling his erection beneath her, his hands 
obediently in her panties, flat against her buttocks.  She lifted her head 
off of his neck, looking down into his face.  He was awake, as she 
expected, but he did not move, stayed terribly still.  She smiled down at 
him warmly, and kissed him softly, hotly on the mouth.  He returned 
her kiss, but did not move his head, or his hands.  She smiled at him 
again, and lay her head back on his neck.  She smiled to herself, now.  
She owned him.  She stirred slightly on his erection, shifting her 
position, using him as she wished, and she thought about how easily he 
had been converted from her equal to her little obedient, fearful, doting 
puppy, serving her, attending to her, worshipping her.

	Mark had moved his things into Tori's house prior to the 
wedding, so their home would be ready for them when they returned 
from the cruise. When they arrived at her home after the honeymoon, 
he lifted her, and carried her over the threshold.  When they were 
inside, he set her on her feet in the living room.  She stood facing him, 
looking into his eyes firmly, displeased.  Her face was inches from his.
	"I'll not walk in my own house," she said, looking into his eyes 
powerfully, letting him feel her breath on his face.
	"What?" he smiled, confused, not sure what she meant.
	She looked at him seductively, firmly.  She did not smile.  
"Carry me to the bedroom," she told him.
	He smiled at her and quickly obliged, lifting her off of her feet, 
and carrying her up the stairs.  She looked into his face, as he carried 
her, and he leaned forward to kiss her mouth and neck as he carried her 
toward the bedroom.
	"Set me on the bed," she said, when they arrived in the 
bedroom.  He complied.  Tori took off her shorts, her shoes, and her 
bra, laying on the bed in her tee-shirt and panties.  She lay on her side, 
with her head propped up on one hand, looking up at Mark.
	"Are you coming?" she asked him, firmly, but invitingly as well.
	He could see her erect nipples against the inside of her tee-shirt.  
"You bet," he said, smiling, and stripping down to boxers and a tee-
shirt.  He climbed into bed, laying on his side, facing her.  He began 
kissing her, warmly, wetly on the mouth.  He caressed her shoulder, 
then her breast, with his hand.
	She returned his kisses with intensity.  She met his hand on her 
breast with her own hand, clasping his fingers with hers.  Tori pushed 
him onto his back and climbed on top of him, laying face down on him, 
still kissing him.  She found his other hand, and clasped his fingers in 
hers again.  She pressed her legs inside of his, still kissing him hotly, 
feeling his erection against her body.  She wrapped her legs around his 
ankles, pulling his legs apart a little, still kissing him.  As she lifted her 
mouth off of his, she propped her elbows on his shoulders, lifting her 
upper body off of him, so that her breasts hung loosely against his 
chest.  She held their clasped hands above his head, and looked down 
into his face, his legs locked in hers.  Her long, red hair fell around his 
face softly.  She could tell from his expression that he did not even 
realize the vulnerability of his position.  
	Looking down into his eyes, she said "I love you, my dear."
	"I love you, too," he returned, looking at her a bit questioningly.
	"Good," she said, looking down at him.  "I just want you to 
know that I love you, and to remember that always, and especially for 
the next few weeks, because ..."
	"What are you talking about," he interrupted her, smiling.
	She spread her legs apart, slightly, spreading his in the process.  
She simultaneously increased her grip on his hands.  "Shhh," she said, 
her mouth inches from his.  "Let me finish.  Okay?"
	He nodded.
	"Good.  You are a wonderful man, Mark.  That is why I married 
you.  I want to spend my life with you, have babies with you."  She 
spoke softly, steadily, inches from his face, always watching his eyes 
for reaction.  "Because you are so wonderful," she continued, "I am 
very optimistic that I can help you develop into the kind of man that I 
require.  You see, I have no interest in spending my life with someone 
as my equal, Mark.  I need, I will have, a man whose only desire, only 
thought, is my wishes, my expectations, my desires.  A man who is 
completely subservient to me, who spends all of his time doing my 
bidding, attending to my needs, and mine alone."
	"Are you joking?" Mark broke in, searching her eyes, 
questioningly.
	She pulled his legs farther apart, digging her elbows into his 
shoulders, looking down into his eyes firmly.  "Shhh.  I am quite 
serious.  That is why I want so much for you to remember that I love 
you.  This will be painful and humiliating for you, at first.  Until you 
are sufficiently humbled, until we change the way you think about 
things, this will be very frustrating.  I will have to hurt you, and beat 
you, and humiliate you.  It is the only way that I can make you into the 
faithful, obedient, subservient husband that I insist you become."  She 
looked into his eyes, powerfully, drinking in his confusion.
	"You can't be serious," he said, smiling uncertainly.
	She kissed his lips softly, smiling sadly at him.  "I am.  You will 
be my slave for the remainder of our lives," she said softly, firmly.  
"And you will love it."
	"What if I don't want that?" he asked, now struggling slightly to 
shift his position, to move her off of him.
	She held him firmly beneath her.  "You won't want it at first.  
That is why I will have to beat you, to crush your stubborn 
independence out of you.  To humiliate you.  Understand this, though, 
Mark.  When I am through, it is what you will want.  You will want 
nothing more, there will be nothing more for you.  My wishes, my 
every desire, will be your only concern.  You will love me in a way 
even more special than the way you love me now."  She looked down at 
him, holding him still, feeling his erection against her, in spite of 
himself.  She had all of the power already.  She needed only to make 
him see it.  The anticipation of this process made her excited, hungry.
	"And you think I'll just accept this?" Mark asked, struggling to 
break free to no avail, becoming ever more frustrated.  "I am a 
progressive kind of guy.  You are a vibrant, intelligent woman.  More 
educated than I.  You make more money than me.  I am more than 
willing that we should be equals in our relationship, which is more than 
most men would be willing to accept."  He continued to struggle, but 
she held him firmly in place.
	Tori smiled at his offer, amused.  "Most men only think that 
they are in charge of their relationships, and they think that, in part, 
because of their less-developed mental and emotional conditions.  The 
only difference, in our relationship, my love, will be that there will be 
no question between us, at any time, on any issue, big or small, who is 
in charge.  I am your superior, and you will treat me as such.  This is 
not one of your little advertising negotiations.  I cannot be swayed."  
She smiled hungrily, feeling his fruitless struggles against her.  His 
erection persisted, despite his growing anger with her.
	"Damn it!" Mark shouted.  "Let go of me," he struggled to get 
her off of him.
	She smiled down at him, amused, digging her elbows into his 
shoulders, holding his hands firmly above his head on the pillow, 
spreading her legs wider apart, stretching him, holding her face inches 
above his.  She felt her breasts hanging loosely against his struggling 
body, as she continued to stretch his legs apart, hearing him express his 
continued protestations of discomfort.
	She spoke to him firmly, and he could feel her breath against his 
face, her voice reverberate through her body, against his.  "Your anger 
and your struggles are so cute, my dear, quite charming, really.  But 
they will not be tolerated."  She stretched him further, and he screamed 
in pain and anger.
	She released him, when she was ready, and sat up on him, on 
his upper legs, holding them firmly between her knees, straddling his 
lower body.  She held his hands, clasped tightly in her own.  "Sit up," 
she said.
	He made no move, continuing to struggle to break his hands 
free.  She smiled, releasing his fingers from her clasped hands.  She 
would need to do something more lasting with his hands.  She could not 
continue to hold them, as she would need her own to be free.  Had this 
been one of her previous lovers, Tori might have crushed his hands in 
her own, breaking his fingers, and the little bones in his hands, 
rendering them useless.  She would not do this to Mark.  She could not 
bear the thought of breaking his bones, and she did not want the 
involvement of doctors and hospitals.
	She held him by the wrists, tightly, with her index fingers 
pressed firmly against the veins and nerve centers at the middle of each 
of his wrists.  She dug her index fingers into his wrists, holding him 
firmly, hearing him scream, feeling him buck between her knees, 
against her crotch.  She continued to press her fingers against his wrists, 
as hard as she could manage, as he screamed angrily from the pain.  
She watched his face, she watched his hands, his fingers.  He struggled 
valiantly, but she did not release his wrists, pressing her index fingers 
into them mercilessly.  She knew the pain was intense, that the nerves 
in the wrists were a sensitive pressure point, but it was necessary.  He 
would suffer no permanent damage.
	He tried desperately to bend his fingers, to reach her hands, to 
pry himself loose, but he could not.  He began trying to bite her arms 
and hands, to make her release him.  She had anticipated this, and did 
not take it personally, or hold it against him.  His pain must be very 
intense, she knew.  She did not allow him to bite her, however, moving 
her body forward and placing both of her knees sharply against his 
chest, pinning his upper body beneath her.  She held his hands above 
his head, so that he could not reach her to bite, but could still see her as 
she crushed the nerves in his wrists.  She watched as he wriggled his 
fingers, desperately, trying to break free, to stop the pain.  After a few 
more minutes, his fingers stopped moving.  She continued to press for a 
few moments more, just to be sure, then she released his wrists.
	He pulled them away from her.  She could see that his hands 
were useless, lifeless, at least temporarily.  He would be unable to use 
them to defend himself against her for several hours.  She looked down 
into his face triumphantly, kneeling roughly on his chest.  He began to 
buck, using his legs in an attempt to throw her off of him.  She slid 
back down his body, settling again on his upper legs, just below his lap, 
straddling him, holding his legs tightly between her knees, leaning on 
his stomach with her hands for leverage.
	"Damn it!" he shouted.  "Get the hell off of me!"
	Tori smiled, leaning forward, catching his head by a handful of 
his dark hair, pulling it rudely upward, forcing him to sit up.  His hands 
debilitated, he was unable to do anything but sit up, to avoid having his 
hair ripped from his head.  Once he was sitting up, facing her, she 
released his hair, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, looking 
directly into his eyes.  She swung her legs around, so that her feet were 
behind his back, her legs around his middle, still sitting on his lap.  She 
kissed him possessively on the mouth, then backed her face away, 
looking into his.
	"You will not give me orders," she said, softly, breathing on his 
face.  "You will learn that.  I am your wife, your mistress, your whole 
world.  What I do, I do because it is best.  You have no need to question 
me.  You must trust me in everything.  Your resistance will only make 
you weaker, and prolong your pain."
	"I will not tolerate this!" he shouted into her face.
	She smiled, looking directly into his eyes.  "Be quiet, my 
darling," she said, and she scooted up on his lap, so that his tummy was 
firmly against her crotch.  She hooked her ankles together behind his 
back, and tightened her legs against his sides.  His eyes widened as she 
began squeezing him between her legs.  She held him firmly between 
her legs, crushing his body within hers.
	He screamed in pain, and flailed his body, trying to break loose.  
He shook his torso, and kicked his legs.  He put his limp, useless hands 
on her legs, trying to pry himself loose, realizing he could not.  Tori 
tightened her vice-like grip on him, leaning back, placing each of her 
hands firmly on one of his knees, holding his legs still, using his body 
for added leverage.
	She let him struggle, exhausting his energy, as she continued to 
clamp down on him, harder and still harder, feeling his healthy body 
struggle from between her legs.  She felt his erection against her butt, 
his labored breath between her thighs.  She sat up on his lap, releasing 
her hands from his knees.  Without using his hands for leverage, his 
legs were practically useless in this position, anyway.  She unhooked 
her feet, crossing her legs around his body, pressing her ankles against 
his back, drawing him in tighter, closer.  She relished his struggles 
between her powerful legs, sitting up now, looking into his face as he 
struggled and screamed.
	She took his head firmly in her hands, kissing his cheeks, his 
neck, looking into his eyes, saying softly, "Your struggles only make 
you weaker.  That's it, my strong, beautiful husband, try to break free.  I 
own you."
	She leaned back slightly, and pulled off her tee-shirt.  She 
embraced him, wrapping her arms around him, placing her chin lightly 
on his shoulder, feeling his face against hers, her breasts against his 
body.  She took hold of her wrist with her other hand, behind his back, 
pulling him close to her, whispering in his ear, "Feel my embrace, 
sweet love.  Feel me squeeze away your strength."
	Tori continued to crush his middle between her legs, and she 
began hugging him tighter and tighter against her chest, feeling his 
every struggle, his every breath, as she held him flush against her body.  
She could hear his groans and screams as she squeezed him tighter and 
tighter.  She whispered in his ear, "Feel me crushing you.  Remember 
that it is me, Tori, your mistress, your wife, crushing you.  I'm going to 
squeeze you harder now.  Brace yourself, true love."  True to her word, 
she increased the force of her embrace, squeezing him mercilessly 
between her legs and against her body.
	Mark screamed from the pain, pounding on her back with his 
forearms, trying to get her to stop.  As she continued to squeeze him, 
harder and harder, she could feel his head resting on her shoulder.  He 
was too weak to hold it up.  She could hear him sobbing, feel his tears 
on her neck.
	"Beg me to stop," she told him.
	He said nothing, and she squeezed him even harder, causing 
him to scream and sob, but not to beg.  It was a simple matter of 
science, she knew, and she continued to squeeze him harder.  He would 
beg.  She could feel how weak he had become.  He had stopped 
struggling, and his body felt softer against hers.  She bore into him, 
certain that he would soon beg her, and he did.
	"Please stop," he said, sobbing.  "You're killing me."
	"No, I'm not, sweetie," she said, squeezing harder.  "You have a 
great deal to learn about pain.  There is so much more that you can 
endure."
	"Please!" he screamed.  "I beg you, please stop!"
	"Say 'please Mistress'" she said, softly, firmly, into his ear, 
squeezing him harder.
	He screamed in pain.  "Please, Mistress!  Please stop!" he 
sobbed.
	She smiled, and stopped squeezing him, still holding him lightly 
between her legs.  She leaned back, so that she could see into his 
anguished face.  She brushed at his tears, and kissed him softly.  She 
took him by the shoulders, and lay down on the bed, laying him down 
next to her, her legs still wrapped around him.  He was on his back, and 
she on her side, with one leg beneath the small of his back, and one 
draped across his stomach.  She pulled his body in close to hers, 
propping her head up on one elbow, so that she could look into his face.  
He lay on his back, trembling, crying.
	She locked her ankles, and brushed her hand through his hair, 
gently, soothingly.  She began to speak to him softly, explaining his 
position in their relationship to him, outlining some of the things she 
expected from him.  She asked him, occasionally, if he understood.  He 
did not answer, and she began to slowly squeeze his stomach between 
her legs.  She continued to talk to him, to teach him.  It did not matter 
at this point whether he acknowledged what she said or not.  He was 
hearing her.  He would have to hear many times, before he was 
properly trained.  She continued to detail her expectations, as he lay 
there, trapped between her thighs.
	He continued to refuse to answer her, to tell her that he 
understood.  She talked to him quietly, firmly, continuing to squeeze 
his stomach harder, harder.  He was exhausted, and unable to offer 
much resistance.  She could feel his weakness between her legs, the 
softness, the squishiness, of his stomach, giving way as she contracted 
it.  He began to scream and to cry, again, from the pain.  She continued 
to speak to him, brushing his hair softly, squeezing him   As she heard 
him cry, and felt his body giving way to her, she came in her panties, 
flush against his soft, beaten body.  She clamped down tighter as she 
came, holding back when she felt that any additional pressure might do 
him physical damage.  She continued to talk to him for nearly an hour, 
holding her legs at the point which caused him the greatest possible 
pain without doing actual damage.  He moaned and sobbed from the 
pain, breathing with great difficulty, and eventually he passed out from 
the pain, the lack of breath, the exhaustion.
	She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek.  She 
reached behind his head for one of the pillows, and placed it under her 
own head.  She fell asleep next to him, her legs still wrapped around his 
beaten body.
	She felt him wake in the morning.  He began to stir, quietly, and 
she felt him between her legs.  She leaned forward, and kissed him 
lightly on the cheek.  He glared at her.  She paid his look no mind.
	"I'm going to shower.  While I do, make the bed, and get us 
some breakfast," she said firmly, giving his tender stomach a quick 
squeeze between her legs.  He gasped, but did not answer, and 
continued to glare at her.
	She got up, and went on to her shower.  Afterwards, when she 
emerged from the bathroom, in a robe, he was still laying in the bed.  
He glared at her, defiantly.
	"I won't tolerate disobedience from you, darling," she said 
firmly, bending down to the floor, picking up one of her sandals, 
moving towards him.
	He rushed to get out of the bed, to move away from her, but she 
caught him by a handful of his hair, pulling him back into the bed, 
rudely pushing his face against the mattress.  He thrashed about, but she 
quickly rolled him over onto his stomach, and placed her knees firmly 
on the backs of his legs.  He tried to buck her off, but she held her 
position, pinning his legs and lower body beneath her.  He tried to turn 
around with his upper body, to reach her, but he could not.  She pulled 
his briefs down, off of his buttocks, so that they were around his legs, at 
her knees.
	Tori held her sandal firmly in her right hand, leaning forward 
with her left to put weight on the small of his back, keeping his legs 
pinned beneath her knees.  She began beating his bare butt with the flat 
part of her shoe, toughly, methodically, hearing it slap against him, 
seeing the red mark each blow left behind.  He grunted at first, and 
tried in vain to get away from her.  
	She continued to beat him, mercilessly, saying "You will do as 
you are told, my little slave.  There is no need for this silly pride.  It 
will get you nowhere.  You are my belonging."  And she continued to 
beat him, for perhaps ten minutes, until he screamed in pain from each 
blow, until tears formed in his eyes.  She stopped, then, placing the 
sandal on his ass, and she stood up.
	"Now, I'm going to get dressed.  I won't ask you to help me, 
today.  Get up, put on a tee-shirt, no pants, just your briefs, make the 
bed, and get some breakfast ready for us.  I will have a bagel, toasted, 
with cream cheese, coffee, and orange juice."  She got up off of him.  
"Now go."
	Mark obeyed her.  He did not rush, but he did as he was told.  
That was good enough for now.  He was obviously quite sore and in 
considerable pain, as she might have expected.  She got dressed, 
watching him in her mirror, as he put on a shirt and made the bed.  He 
left the room, and she heard him go down the stairs.  When she finished 
dressing, she sat back on the bed, making mental plans for the rest of 
the day.  She would dedicate the next several days to training her 
husband, forcing him into submission, teaching him what was expected 
of him.  It was Friday morning.  She would return to work on Monday, 
and wished to have completed as much of his training as possible.  It 
would take weeks, perhaps months, before he got everything right.  For 
the next few days, however, she would focus on breaking him, teaching 
him what she wanted.
	She went downstairs, into the dining room, and he sat at the 
table.  Her bagel, coffee, and orange juice were in front of an empty 
chair, and he had a bagel and orange juice in front of him.
	She stopped by the table, resting her hands on her hips.  "Well 
done, my love.  But I'm afraid you will not eat at the table.  You will eat 
on the floor, sitting by my chair."
	He raised his eyes, looking at her with great annoyance, and 
continued to eat, defiantly.
	"Go on," she said, firmly.  He made no move, and she walked 
over to him, standing behind his chair.  Tori could see him tense, but he 
did not turn around to look at her.  She leaned down, wrapping her arm 
around his head and under his chin, pressing the top of his head firmly 
against her chest.  She pulled forcefully, lifting him up and back, 
kicking the chair out from under him.  She held him firmly by the head, 
dragging him around the table, next to her chair.  She swept her leg 
under him, kicking his feet out, knocking him to the ground.  As he 
made a motion to get back up, she placed a foot on his crotch, pressing 
it firmly against the ground.  He voiced his pain, as she smashed his 
testicles lightly against the floor.
	She put her hands on her hips, holding her foot on him.  "Stay 
there, my lover, or I'll show you pain you never imagined existed," she 
said firmly, her teeth clenched.
	He obeyed.  She walked back around the table, getting his plate 
and glass, bringing them back and setting them on the floor in front of 
him.  She sat in her chair, next to him, and began eating.  He made no 
move to eat.  "Go on," she said.  "Eat."
	He did as she said, though he was clearly not hungry.  She 
began to talk to him.  "Once we finish breakfast, we are going to call 
your boss at the agency," she began.  "You are going to tell him that 
you will not be in on Monday.  I want you to quit your job."
	"Absolutely not," he said loudly.  "Are you crazy?  I'm not 
quitting my job!"
	She looked at him firmly, menacingly.  "You will, my sweet 
love.  We don't need the money.  I make more than enough.  I want you 
here, devoting all of your efforts to taking care of me and taking care of 
the house.  When we have children, I want you to take care of them."  
She knew he would be wonderful with the children, so warm, so loving, 
so gentle.
	"I won't do it," he said again.
	"Yes, love, you will," she said tiredly, as if he were annoying 
her.  "I have decided, and you will obey me.  My reasons are good, 
above reproach.  There are some ways, love, in which I need you to 
take care of me.  Attend to me, to our house, to our children.  And in 
turn, there are ways that I will take care of you, provide for you, teach 
you how best to behave.  We will be partners, like any married couple, 
except that I will decide who does what, and when, because I know 
what is best for us," she said plainly.
	He said nothing.  When she finished eating her bagel, she 
reached for the cordless telephone on the table, and handed it to him.  
She sipped from her coffee.  "Go on, my sweet.  Do it."
	He did nothing, and she rose to face him, standing above him.  
He looked at her angrily, and moved to get up.  She shook her head in 
frustration as he rose, placing a hand under his arm, and punching her 
fist roughly into his soft, tender stomach with the other.  She felt her 
fist sink deep into his stomach, as he gasped and doubled over.  She 
caught him, putting her other arm under his opposite shoulder, holding 
him up as he sank to his knees.  She pulled his body towards her, 
simultaneously lifting her knee into his chest, hearing him gasp, seeing 
him drop the cordless phone.  She kneed him again, harder, and a third 
time, harder still.  She released him from her hands, and he sank to the 
floor, moaning and gasping.
	She stood above him, and he rose to his hands and knees, trying 
to crawl away from her.  She placed her foot firmly on his back, and 
forced him down, flat onto his chest.  She kept her foot on his back, and 
stooped down to pick up the phone.  Tori lifted her foot off of his back, 
and sat down on him, firmly, facing his legs.  She pulled his shirt up 
slightly, and slid his briefs down around his legs.  She felt him struggle 
to no avail beneath her, as she sat on him with all of her weight, 
holding him still with her knees against his sides.  She beat his tender, 
red ass with the phone as he struggled to free himself.  She quickly 
brought him to tears, and he was still.  She beat him a few more times, 
for good measure.
	Tori reached down and pulled his briefs back up, and rolled off 
of him.  She pulled him onto her, rolling him over, so that he was 
facing away from her.  She wrapped her legs around his middle, 
digging her heels into his stomach.  She wrapped her arms against his 
upper body, pulling him in close, his back against her breasts.  She 
whispered in his ear, as he cried.  "This is for the best," she said, putting 
the phone in his hand, squeezing his soft middle in her powerful legs.  
"Shhh.  Don't cry.  This is what's best.  I will never do anything that isn't 
what's best for us, my sweet love.  You must learn to trust me.  
Completely.  I am your superior.  Sometimes I will know what is best 
when you do not realize it."
	He stopped crying, as she squeezed him firmly against her, 
whispering in his ear.  "Now do it," she said, firmly.  He complied now, 
calling his boss at the agency, saying he would not be coming back, no 
longer needed to work.  
	"Good boy," she whispered against his ear when he hung up the 
phone.
	"I should have at least given two weeks notice," he said, 
reluctantly.
	She smiled at his efforts to cling to those things that he knew 
before her.  "You needn't worry about burning any bridges, my darling," 
she said softly, tenderly, holding him firmly between her legs, against 
her body.  "Their opinion of you means nothing anymore.  You won't be 
needing them for a reference.  I'm the only reference you will ever 
need."
	She lowered her feet from his belly, brushing them against his 
erect penis.  She lay on her back, with him on top of her, facing away 
from her.  Tori circled her arms under his, and around, behind his head, 
clasping them, holding his head firm.  She continued to play with his 
erection with her feet, holding his body still, holding his legs between 
hers.  She effortlessly brought him to orgasm in his briefs, withdrawing 
her feet, holding him still, close against her, feeling his back tense 
against her breasts, whispering in his ear.  She held him motionless in 
this position for several moments afterwards, allowing him to recover.
	Then, Tori moved her legs down, tangling her legs around his, 
holding them tight.  She rolled over, forcing him to do the same.  Now 
he was underneath her, face down, and she was face down on top of 
him.  She pressed her pelvis against his buttocks, and held his legs 
tangled in hers.  She kept his arms locked behind hers, her hands 
clasped against the back of his head.  She began to arch her back, then, 
stretching him, pulling his upper body off of the floor.
	As he began to groan in pain, she brought her head close to his, 
saying "Shhh.  Don't struggle my lover.  This is just to keep your 
attention.  I won't break you," and she began to tell him things softly, 
while she bent him, stretched him beneath her.  She explained things to 
him, taught him what she wanted him to learn.
	Tori spent the greater part of the next three days teaching Mark, 
training him to be the kind of husband she wanted, showing him what 
would happen when he forgot things, when he disobeyed.  When she 
felt it was necessary, she beat him, crushed him, humiliated him, 
brought him to tears, made him beg her.  She focused on breaking his 
will, changing the way he thought, forcing him to think only about her 
and what she wanted.  She used her strength, her power, her sexuality, 
her intellect, her knowledge of men.  She taught him to fear her, to trust 
her, to love her completely, to obey her, to serve her, to worship her.
	She taught him how to attend to her, focusing on the specific 
details.  She outlined rituals for him to follow in the morning before she 
left for work, when she arrived home, and when they went to bed.  Tori 
taught him how and when to do dishes, how to do her laundry, how to 
clean the bathrooms in their house.  She explained how he was to eat, 
how they would watch television together, how he should behave in 
public.  She would not draw attention to him, or to herself, when they 
went out.  He was simply to be attentive, to defer to her wishes as 
always.  She did her best to explain exactly what was expected of him, 
and when.
	He had a great deal of trouble with the sleeping ritual.  He 
orgasmed each of the first several nights against her tummy, as she lay 
on top of him.  And she was not even trying on these evenings to make 
him come.  The process was just too much for him, at first.  Beautiful, 
nude wife, laying softly on top of him, completely dominant, his hands 
obediently in her panties, his uncovered erection pressed against her 
exposed tummy.  Still, each time he came on her when she was to be 
sleeping, she beat him, taking him over her lap, and spanking him with 
her bare hand, and making him lick her tummy clean.  He had to be 
taught, and he would learn, Tori knew.  Certainly, there would be times 
when she drove him to orgasm in this position, simply because she 
wanted to beat him.  But she could not tolerate this every night.  She 
was pleased, though, that the entire ritual was so arousing for him.  It 
would be another form of power she held over him, another way she 
would humiliate him.
	Mark learned a great deal over those three days.  Some of his 
education was beaten into him, which Tori did with no apologies.  All 
was for his own good, she told him repeatedly, for their mutual 
happiness.  By the end of the weekend, he had progressed a great deal.  
He clearly feared her, and tried very hard to be obedient, and to 
remember all that she had taught him.  She had done away with his silly 
male ego, forcing him to change his attitude.  Tori had used tenderness 
and sexuality to conquer him, as well.  Not only did he fear her, but he 
loved her, lusted for her, wanted her approval, her favor.  
	On the day Tori returned to work, she left wondering what 
would happen when she arrived home.  What shape would the house be 
in?  How would Mark act?  She had not been separated from him for 
weeks, now, and had spent the past four days teaching him, molding 
him, changing him.  He would have a full day to himself now, and she 
wondered how she would find him when she got home.
	When she arrived that evening, Mark was waiting for her, at the 
door, as she had taught him, on his knees.  She stepped in, smiling 
softly, closing the door.  He kissed her feet, as she stood above him.  
She set her purse and briefcase down, and he fell to his hands and 
knees.  She sat on his back, dangling her legs over his shoulders, her 
thighs on either side of his head.  He walked on his hands and knees, 
carrying her up the stairs, so she could change out of her business 
clothes.
	As he carried her, she held onto his hair, asking "What's for 
dinner, my love?"
	He slowed for a moment, then continued crawling, "I ..."
	She tightened her legs against the sides of his head slightly.  
"You did make dinner, didn't you, sweet?"
	"I didn't know," he stammered, fearfully.  "You didn't tell me.  I 
don't know how to cook," he said, trembling beneath her.  As they 
reached the bedroom, she stepped off of him, allowing her pumps to 
walk rudely over his hands on the floor.  He remained silent.
	Tori took off her blazer, and hung it up.  She removed her belt, 
and went over to stand by the bed.  She looked down at her husband 
expectantly, arms folded.  He quickly rose, and walked over to the bed, 
laying face down, stretching his arms in front of him to grasp the 
headboard, holding his feet together.
	Tori climbed onto the bed, sitting on his upper back, leaning 
back on her hand, which she placed on his head.  Her weight forced his 
face rudely into the mattress.  She shifted backward, so that she was 
sitting on his neck, and the lower part of his head, pressing his face 
against the mattress with her ass.  She leaned forward, and pulled his 
tee-shirt up, pushed his underwear down around his legs, settling her 
ass back on his head.
	She held the belt loosely in her hand, pressing her weight down 
on his head.  "You are right, dear.  I did not tell you that I expected 
dinner when I arrive home."  She hit him sharply with her belt.  "I 
should have."  She hit him again.  "You need to work, little slave, 
though, on thinking more about me, about my needs."  She beat him 
twice, harshly.  "Your job, your duty, is to make every effort to service 
me, to please me."  Tori hit him again, relishing his quiet, pained groan 
beneath her ass.  
	"I may have forgotten to tell you other things, as well.  You 
must think, in all things, lover, whether there is any possible way in 
which you can serve me, or serve me better."  She hit him again, and 
again.  "If you do not know how to cook, you had better learn, and learn 
tomorrow.  Never again will I come home without you having dinner 
ready, and a good dinner, too."  She whacked him on the ass, making it 
red, hearing his muffled grunts.  "For tonight, we will order something 
in."
	She moved off of him, and stood by the bed, her hands on her 
hips, waiting expectantly.  He pulled up his briefs, rolling gingerly out 
of the bed, dropping to his knees.  He kissed her feet, each of them, 
saying "Thank you, my Mistress."
	She stroked his head with her fingers, gently, to signify that he 
was forgiven, and he rose to help her change out of her business 
clothes.  When she was finished, she rode him back down the stairs and 
into the kitchen to order a pizza.

	Tori smiled against her husband's neck, as she lay on top of him, 
remembering the dinner incident.  She was still amazed how much she 
had accomplished in those first four days.  She had accomplished a 
great deal since, as well, in the month since they had been married.  
	Mark had become much more comfortable with his role in the 
relationship, and she had actually become more comfortable and 
relaxed with hers, as well.  Breaking him and teaching him as quickly 
as she had really made her feel more confident about the degree to 
which she could control the relationship, and more comfortable that it 
was the best thing for him as well as her.  
	He loved the way things were now.  She knew he did.  She 
could tell.  She could not ask him, of course.  She had taught him that 
his only concern should be for her wants, her desires, that she would in 
turn make certain that his best interests were served.  This is what he 
would tell her if she asked him whether he were happy.
	She felt him breathing beneath her, silently, his hands against 
her buttocks, his erection against her stomach.  She smiled, quietly, and 
began to stir against him, pulling her leg up possessively over him, 
rubbing her hair softly on his neck, casually running a hand gently 
through his hair, tensing her buttocks, shifting her breasts on his chest.  
	She could feel him getting more and more aroused.  She smiled 
wickedly against his neck.  It was true that she looked out for his best 
interests overall, but there were her interests, too.  And she loved 
beating him.  Besides, it was good for him.  She continued to make 
tiny, soft movements against him, smiling as she heard his breathing 
quicken, her face against his neck.  Before long at all, he came against 
her, holding his breath, tensing his muscles.
	She lifted her head off of his neck, and looked down into his 
face, sternly.
	He was blushing, as he always did.  "I'm so sorry Mistress," he 
said hastily, deferentially.  "Please forgive me," he continued, shivering 
slightly.
	She looked down into his face, and gently brushed her hand 
through his hair.  "Get my hairbrush, love," she said, rolling off of him, 
seeing his face fall, slightly, as he quickly went to her dresser, returning 
to bed with her brush.
	He handed Tori her brush, and lay on his stomach, completely 
nude, feet together, hands clasping the headboard.  Tori climbed on top 
of him, pressing the back of his head firmly into the mattress, and 
scooting back so she sat on it, forcing his face into the bed.  She began 
beating him with the brush, and beat him soundly, relishing his muffled 
yelps as she sat on his head, spanking him with her hairbrush.  She 
spanked him until she could hear him weeping against the mattress, 
beneath her ass.
	She got off of him, then, and got up to put her brush back on her 
dresser, and to wipe his come from her stomach.  Tori would normally 
make him lick it off of her, but she had beaten him cruelly, had made 
him cry, had been the one to make him orgasm in the first place.  And 
she had enjoyed every moment.  Now she returned to bed, taking his 
head gently, allowing him to rest his head in her lap, weeping softly.  
She pulled his head upward, holding it against her naked breast, letting 
him cry against her breast, kissing the top of his head.  Feeling him cry 
against her was almost as arousing as the beating itself.
	Once he had settled down, and cleaned himself off, he resumed 
his position, and she resumed her place on top of him, kissing his neck 
softly before she settled her head onto it, falling asleep.
	When she awoke in the morning, Tori propped herself up on her 
elbows, looking down at Mark, her husband, her slave.  He was awake, 
as she had expected.  She knew he was always awake when she slept.  
He could not sleep under her that way, and she liked that.  It made her 
feel special, as she certainly was to him.  She knew he would sleep for 
a few hours once she left for work.
	She sat up on him, straddling his torso, looking down at his 
face.  He kept still.  She withdrew his hands from her panties, laying 
them at his sides.  She rose to her knees on his chest, and pulled her 
panties down, then sitting back down on him, she pulled them the rest 
of the way off.  She straddled him, feeling his body between her legs.  
He belonged to her.  This was her person between her legs, to do with 
as she pleased.  She slid up, sitting on his chest, just below his neck, 
putting her knees on either side of his head.
	Tori reached onto the night stand for the cordless telephone.  
She looked down into Mark's face.  "I want you to lick me, my darling.  
I want you to suck me.  Do you understand?" she asked.
Mark nodded, and Tori slid forward, moving her crotch onto his 
face, pressing her knees and thighs against the sides of his head.  As he 
began to lick her and kiss her tenderly, obediently, she dialed the office 
on her cordless phone.  She put her other hand on the top of Mark's 
head, pulling his head in against her crotch.
	As her husband serviced her, Tori spoke on the phone to her 
secretary at the office, explaining that she was running late, that she 
had been up much of the night, as her husband had not been feeling 
well.  She flexed her thighs firmly against his head as she spoke of him.
	When she hung up the phone, Tori focused on Mark, pulling at 
his hair with both hands, pushing him more firmly against her.  As she 
reached orgasm, she tightened her thighs against his head, and lay back, 
still squatting on his head, but laying her back and head on his body.  
She rested, recovered, keeping his face clamped against her ass as she 
lay on him.
	After a few moments, she released her legs, and sat up on him, 
saying "I had better get going."  She got up, walking to the bathroom, 
closing the door behind her.  A moment later, Mark heard the toilet 
flush.  "I'm ready now," Tori called out to him.
	Mark quickly got up, and went into the bathroom, still nude, as 
Tori had mandated.  She stood, also without a stitch of clothing, in 
front of the bathroom sink.  He got her toothbrush, squeezed some 
toothpaste onto it, and drew a cup of water.  He stood directly behind 
her, and she stepped back, standing on his feet with her heels, a nice 
touch she felt.  He could feel her butt against him, and became semi-
erect.  He had learned to ignore this, and not to be ashamed, as there 
was nothing he could do about it, and Tori seemed to understand, so 
long as he did not orgasm, unless that was her wish.  
	As she stood on his feet, her back against him, facing the 
bathroom sink and mirror, he reached around the side of her head with 
the toothbrush and gently brushed her teeth, being careful to do a good 
job, as she had taught him.  When he was finished, he withdrew the 
toothbrush, setting it on the sink, she leaned forward, her buttocks 
pressing against him, and spit into the sink.  Tori stood back up, and he 
lifted the water to her lips, carefully pouring it into her mouth.  She 
swished it around, and again leaned forward to spit it into the sink.
	Tori stepped off of him, and he quickly rinsed the brush and the 
cup, putting them away.  Next, Mark walked over to the shower and 
turned on the water, taking care to make certain that he had exactly the 
right temperature.  Tori walked into the shower stall, the water 
splashing over her body.  Mark followed her, dropping to his knees as 
soon as he entered the stall, kneeling behind her, his face inches from 
her butt.  She handed him her shaving cream and razor, and he went to 
work immediately applying a lather of shaving cream to her firm, 
powerful legs.  He shaved her legs, on his knees, taking great care not 
to cut her legs with the razor, as that sort of carelessness would not be 
tolerated.
	When he had finished shaving her legs, and risen to shave under 
her arms, he again sank to his knees, using a washcloth to wipe away 
the excess lather.  He applied body soap to her legs, her feet, her 
buttocks, her crotch, and carefully rinsed her clean with a washcloth.  
He stood then, washing her back with the same great care.  She stepped 
back, standing on his feet, her butt touching his erection, her damp hair 
touching his face and shoulders.  He washed her arms, her stomach, her 
shoulders, her neck.  He washed her breasts, and they were firm and the 
nipples erect beneath his touch.  Throughout the process, he was gentle, 
thorough, not missing an inch of her body.  She stepped off of his feet, 
and turned around to face him, closing her eyes.  He applied special 
soap to her face, rubbing it in gently, around her nose and mouth, her 
forehead, her cheeks, behind her ears, rinsing it off well with the 
washcloth when he had finished.
	Tori stood under the water, allowing it to soak her long, red 
hair.  Mark shampooed her hair, thoroughly, and she stood under the 
water, letting the shampoo rinse out of her hair.  He applied conditioner 
then, and again she rinsed it out.  Mark turned off the shower, reaching 
out of the stall for a towel.  He dried her face and hair, rubbing the 
towel thoroughly against her head, then wrapping her hair in it snugly.  
Mark withdrew for a second towel, and carefully dried her body, 
starting at the neck, working his way down, dropping to his knees to dry 
her legs, her butt, her feet.  He dried himself briefly with the same 
towel, and stepped out of the shower stall.
	Tori followed him, and held her arms out, so he could put her 
bathrobe on her, which he did, tying it firmly at the waist.  He knelt 
down to put slippers on each of her feet, as she lifted them for him.  
She walked out of the bathroom, then, sitting on the edge of the bed, 
drawing up her robe as she sat, exposing her legs.  Mark knelt before 
her at the side of the bed, gently rubbing body lotion on her firm, toned, 
muscular legs, the legs she had used to crush him, to defeat him, to 
bring him to tears on so many occasions.
	She stood then, removing her bathrobe, lifting her legs one at a 
time so that he could put on her panties and her hose.  She lifted her 
arms, so that he could put on her bra, as he stood behind her.  Tori told 
him what outfit she wanted to wear, and Mark quickly went to her 
closet, returning to her with it.  He held out her skirt, so that she could 
step into it, and he zipped it behind her.  He put Tori's blouse on her, 
carefully fastening the buttons in front.  He ran the belt through the 
loops of the skirt, fastening it at her waist.  He hung the blazer on the 
door, as Tori would not want to put it on until he had finished dressing 
her.
	When he had finished, Tori sat in her dresser chair, and Mark 
unwrapped the towel from her hair.  He brushed it thoroughly, but very 
cautiously, careful not to cause her any discomfort.  She sat still, 
watching expectantly as he used the blow-dryer to dry her hair, 
applying hair spray, styling it as she had taught him.  
	When he finished her hair, Tori stood, and Mark turned her 
dresser chair sideways, sitting in it himself, still nude.  She sat on his 
lap, then, sideways, so that she was facing her dresser and mirror.  He 
carefully applied makeup to her face, using the mascara, eyeliner, and 
lipstick she specified.  He put on her earrings, necklace, and bracelets, 
as she sat on his lap, telling him which ones she wished to wear.	
	She stood, then, and he put Tori's blazer on her, and quickly put 
on a pair of briefs and a tee-shirt himself.  She stood in the doorway, 
and he dropped to his knees, kissing her feet.  As she was wearing a 
skirt, she would not ride on his back, this morning.  He picked her up, 
and carried her through the house, down the stairs, placing her in her 
chair at the dining room table, pushing her chair in once he had placed 
her in it.  Mark walked quickly to the front door, then, stepping out on 
the porch for the newspaper.
	He returned with it, unwrapping it, and setting it on the table for 
Tori.  He leafed through the sections, finding the business section, and 
placing it on top.  As Mark retreated into the kitchen to make her 
breakfast, Tori read the newspaper, sitting comfortably in her chair at 
the dining room table.  She heard him in the kitchen, and smelled the 
coffee he was brewing.
	He returned a few minutes later, with a cup of coffee for her, 
two sugars, no cream.  He brought her a glass of orange juice, with one 
ice cube, a bowl of cereal, with one-half cup of skim milk, a toasted 
bagel with cream cheese.  He placed these items before her on the 
table, as she continued reading the paper.  He did not bring food for 
himself.  He would eat later, after he had finished serving Tori, after 
she had gone to work.
	He sat down on the floor next to her chair, as she took a drink of 
her coffee.  She lifted herself out of her chair, slightly, and he slid his 
hand beneath her, palm side down.  She sat back down, on top of his 
hand.  He would remain on the floor, next to her chair, as she sat on his 
hand, eating the breakfast he had prepared, reading the newspaper he 
had retrieved for her, until Tori was finished with her breakfast.  She 
ate and continued to read the paper, leaning over occasionally to pet 
him on the head, affectionately.  She offered him bites of her bagel, 
which she broke off for him, and he accepted them.  He would eat 
breakfast later, but Tori enjoyed feeding him as she sat at the table, and 
so he liked it, too.  Feeding him pleased her so, and he loved to please 
her.
	When she finished, Tori stood, and Mark quickly rose and 
brought her purse and brief case.  As he carried her to the door, she told 
him what she wanted for dinner, and reminded him of several projects 
around the house which they had discussed last night during her dinner.  
When they arrived at the door, Mark set her on her feet, and dropped to 
his knees, kissing each of her buttocks softly through her skirt.  Tori 
turned around and smiled down at him, warmly, running her hand 
through his hair affectionately, and then she left for work.
	As Tori drove herself to work, she thought about how 
completely wonderful it was to own a man, as she did.  He attended to 
her every need at home.  She slept on him, she sat on him.  He bathed 
her, dressed her, fed her, carried her, cleaned for her.  She owned him 
completely.  She could beat him, tease him, use him sexually, anything 
she wished.  And he loved her, worshipped her.  She loved him, as well.  
She provided for him, and always would, and protected him, and taught 
him.  He could never have become what he had become without her.  
	Tori felt herself becoming aroused, as she drove her car.  She 
knew she had to turn her thoughts to something else, or she might reach 
orgasm right there in her car.  It had happened before.  Her complete, 
total power and control over a formerly strong and independent man 
was absolutely intoxicating.  Tori wished more women could 
experience what she had.  The world would be such a better place, she 
thought, if all men were trained to be like her Mark, her husband, her 
love, her dear little slave.