Unintended Consequences
by Mick Sloane
Shannon's husband presses her to try something new; then she presses back


Shannon sat up in her bed, next to her husband, staring at him in disbelief.
There was no way she was going to be able to do this with a straight face.

"What?" he asked. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Jon," she said, "I just don't think I can do this. It just ... it just
doesn't feel right."

"All right," he sighed, clearly disappointed. "Forget it."

"Is it really that important to you?" she asked.

"Well, no. I mean, I think it would really, really turn me on. But if it's
going to make you that uncomfortable, then we can just forget about it," he
replied.

Shannon had found some pornography earlier that day, by accident, on a
computer flash drive. It was Jon's. She had been looking for some of their
photographs from a recent vacation. It didn't bother her at all that he had
pornography. She thought that was very natural. But all of the images, all of
the movie clips, had to do with men being dominated physically by women. She
and Jon had been married for two years and had been together for two years
prior to that, and Shannon never had an inkling that he was in to anything ...
unusual like this, so she had asked him about it.

He had confessed that it was a tremendous turn-on for him, but had said that
he would never have even thought about asking her to do anything like the
things in the pictures or videos. Since she had found the flash drive, though,
and since she had brought it up, he said, perhaps she would consider trying
it? Perhaps it might even be good for their sex life?

Shannon looked into his eyes, but he quickly averted them. "I think it is kind
of important to you," she said.

"Well, it's not like I can't survive without it," he said. "It's just been
something that has always interested me, something that I fantasize about a
lot, and I've never actually experienced it in real life. I would never have
asked, but now that it has come up anyway, I just thought ... I don't know.
You might enjoy it, too ... " he trailed off.

"Tell me again," Shannon said. "How would it work?"

"Are you sure?" Jon asked, clearly becoming a little excited at her interest.

Shannon rolled her eyes and smiled. "Just tell me again how it would work."

"Well," Jon said, "it could work however we wanted it to. I mean, you would
basically just tie me up and hit me, or whip me, or spank me. Or wrap your
legs around my body or my head and squeeze me. Or do other things to hurt me.
Just dominate me, physically. And say things to humiliate me."

Shannon's face reddened a bit. She wasn't convinced. "Like what?"

"Did you look at the stuff on the thumb drive you found?" Jon asked.

"No. Just a couple of things. Just long enough to know what it was," she said.

John walked over to his dresser and took the drive out of the top drawer. "Why
don't you put this in the computer, and look at some of it for a while? It
will give you a much better idea of what I mean," he said.

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Okay," she sighed.

"I love you, honey," Jon said.

"Yeah, yeah," Shannon sighed, taking the flash drive from him and walking down
the hall to their study.

She looked at the pictures on the disc, and watched some of the movies, for
about half an hour. Women sitting on men's faces. Women spanking men with
their bare hands, with paddles, with hair brushes. Beating them with their
bare fists. Men kissing women's feet. Licking their bottoms. Women squeezing
men's heads and bodies between their thighs. Men tied up, while women tortured
and humiliated them. Women screwing men from behind with dildos. She couldn't
do this. She liked to have good sex as much as anyone, but this ... this ...
it was just too perverted. And it didn't feel right. It was too ... pretend
... too contrived. Could these people really be so turned on by something that
was so completely made up? Could Jon? Apparently, he could.

She returned to the bedroom, where Jon still lay on the bed, watching TV. "I
don't know, honey," she said. "This is all just ... really weird."

Jon turned off the TV. "Listen, Shannon," he began. "You've been really great
to even talk about this with me. If it makes you that uncomfortable, we can
just forget it. Or, if you are willing, we can try it once, and if it just
really doesn't do anything for you, we won't do it anymore, and I won't bring
it up again."

Shannon's eyes narrowed. That did seem awfully reasonable. It certainly didn't
seem like too much to ask of her. It's not as if they didn't experiment in
bed. This was just a little ... different. "Okay," she said. "We try it once.
But if I hate it, that's it. Right?"

Jon sat up in bed, nodding approvingly. "That's right. Exactly."

"Okay," Shannon said, folding her arms and looking down at him. "So what do we
do?"

"Well," Jon said. "You saw some of that stuff. I don't think we want for it to
be too contrived or elaborate, or it definitely won't be comfortable for you.
What did you see that you feel like you might be okay with?"

"Why don't you tell me what would turn you on?" she asked. "I mean, without
getting into some of the really weird hardcore stuff."

"You could tie me up," he said. "And hit me. Like with a belt or something.
And say humiliating things to me. You know, make me beg you to stop. That kind
of thing. And we could just see where it goes from there."

"Okay," Shannon said, smiling and shaking her head. "So what should we wear?"

"Hmmm," Jon said, smiling mischievously. "I should probably be nude. Or maybe
just in underwear. You should wear something sexy. Some lingerie, or maybe
something with a short skirt and boots, or heels. You know."

Shannon rolled her eyes and grinned. "Yeah, I know."

She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching as he stripped
naked and lay on his back in the center of the bed. Then, Shannon changed as
he watched her. She was a beautiful woman. Long, red hair. Little, turned-up
nose. Bright green eyes. Pale, white, freckled skin. Toned, taught body. Long,
muscular legs. She was two inches taller than Jon in her stocking feet. She
put on a black bra and matching black thong panties. She smirked at him
naughtily as she put on her knee-high black leather boots, which made her all
that much taller than he.

She put her hands on her hips, looking down at him, and asked "What do I use
to tie you up?"

"Um ... there's some duct tape in the supply closet. That would probably
work," Jon said.

Shannon retrieved the duct tape and returned to the bedroom. She looked down
into Jon's eyes as she approached the bed, leaning in to take his left wrist
in her hands. She pulled it to the headboard of the bed, and wrapped it
several times, affixing it to one of the posts to the bed. She walked to the
opposite side of the bed and did the same with his right wrist. She walked to
the foot of the bed and tied his ankles to the footboard in a similar fashion.

She looked down at him uncomfortably. "So, do I just start?" she giggled,
nervously. "Are there any like ... rules or anything?"

"Well, you're in charge now," Jon said. "So you pretty much make the rules.
The more you get into it, the more fun I think it will be for both of us. The
only thing I can think of is, we should probably have a 'safe' word."

Shannon blushed. "Like, you mean if I'm hurting you too much?"

"Yeah," Jon said. "So like if you hit me, and I groan or whatever, we don't
have to break the mood with you asking every time if you're hurting me too
badly. You would just keep going in whatever direction you wanted to, unless I
said the 'safe' word, and then you would know to stop whatever you were
doing."

"Okay," she shrugged. "So what's the word."

"Oh, I don't know. It could be anything, as long as it's something that
wouldn't probably come up otherwise," he said. "How about ... 'sheepdog.'"

"Sheepdog?" Shannon laughed.

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it could be anything. If you don't like
that, you come up with something. You're in charge, now, anyway."

"No," she smiled. "Sheepdog is fine. It's perfect. It's silly, just like the
rest of this."

"Hey, now," Jon protested. "If you're going to have that kind of an attitude,
this will never be any good."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Shannon laughed. She leaned down and picked his
blue jeans up off of the floor. She pulled his belt out from the loops, and
she put his jeans away in his closet.

Shannon folded his belt in half, holding the two ends in her right hand, and
she began tapping the folded end against the palm of her left hand. Her face
grew serious. "How many times," she said, "have I asked you to put your
clothes away in your closet when you take them off?"

"I ... I'm sorry," Jon said.

She hit him, suddenly, just lightly, on his upper right thigh, with the folded
belt. He gasped. "Sorry isn't good enough," she said flatly. Shannon hit him
again, this time across the chest, and a little harder, eliciting a louder
gasp from her husband.

"I work very hard to keep this house clean," she said quietly, eyeing him. "I
have a full-time job, too, you know? You aren't the only one who works. How do
you think it makes me feel when you leave things everywhere?" Jon watched her
silently. "How?" she asked again, sternly. She hit him again with the belt,
harder still, across his stomach.

"I'm sorry!" Jon gasped again.

Shannon could see that he was getting an erection. Interesting, she thought.
This was indeed arousing him. It wasn't doing anything for her. It felt silly.
She resolved to continue on, though, and to see where things went.

"Oh, you don't even know what sorry is," she said, putting her left hand on
her hip and glaring down at him, struggling to keep her facial expression
stern and serious, resisting the urge to break out in laughter. "You'll find
out, though." She hit Jon again with the belt, on the thigh, even harder than
before, eliciting a little shriek from him. This time, the belt left a visible
red mark where she had hit him.

Shannon said nothing, walking the length of the bed, tapping the belt against
her left hand menacingly. She hit him suddenly high on his right arm, and he
gasped again, and his body shook slightly. Another red mark.

"You liking this?" she asked.

"Y-y-yes," he said, eyeing the belt.

"Fucking pervert," she snarled, and she hit him hard across the chest. He
screamed, this time, and she saw that she had left an even redder mark, almost
a welt, from this most recent blow. What was that look in his eyes? Arousal,
perhaps, yes, but something else as well. Was it ... fear? Shannon felt an
unexplainable tinge of excitement at the prospect.

She circled him quietly, tapping the folded belt lightly against her hip. She
looked down menacingly into his eyes, as he followed her with them, and she
felt certain that she saw it again. Fear.

Shannon lashed out suddenly, striking him across the breast with the belt,
much harder than before. Jon screamed as the belt made a sick, smacking sound
and raised a red welt across his chest. The shock and terror in his eyes were
unmistakable, but still he was very erect.

Shannon turned away from him, as she felt a dizzying surge of emotion wash
over her. Jon may have been aroused, but he was also afraid of her. And he
should be, shouldn't he? He was completely helpless, and she was hurting him
at will, randomly. Would she hit him with the belt again? When? Where? He
could only lie there in fear and wait.

She felt exhilarated. Aroused, yes, definitely. She was in complete control,
and it felt good. She wanted to feel more of it.

Shannon turned back to him, her face cold, expressionless. She stood there for
a moment, looking down into his eyes, and then without warning she struck him
again with the belt, in the same spot as before. She did not hit him as hard
this time, but she didn't need to. As the belt struck the red welt on Jon's
chest, he shrieked in pain.

Shannon became still more aroused. She felt her nipples go hard, felt a
warmth, a surging between her thighs. This was better than she could possibly
have imagined.

"Who is in charge here?" she asked him, quietly, her voice confident, thick
with arousal.

"You are, Shannon," Jon answered quickly, his eyes on the belt, which she
tapped menacingly against the palm of her hand.

"Are you frightened?" she asked, pacing beside the bed, arching an eyebrow
expectantly.

Jon did not answer at first

"I said, are you afraid of me?" Shannon repeated, her voice stern and
confident.

"Maybe," Jon answered quietly, never taking his eyes off the belt in her hand.
"Maybe a little."

Shannon watched his eyes, and she started to strike him repeatedly, very hard,
in the same area of the chest, synchronizing the blows with her words: "You.
Should. Be. Very. Afraid. Husband. Very. Fucking. Afraid."

Jon was shrieking in pain, and yanking at his hands and feet, which were tied
securely to the bed. She had raised multiple, ugly red welts on his chest. She
curled her lower lip cruelly and raised the belt to strike him again. Jon
instinctively tried to roll away from her, but of course, he could not.

"Oh, please!" Jon shouted. "Please, stop! Sheepdog!"

Shannon brought the belt back down gently into her hand, and she smirked down
at him. She could not remember ever having been more aroused. She felt strong,
and powerful, and so completely in control. She was hurting him, and he wanted
her to stop. Not just pretend. She was really hurting him, and he really
wanted her to stop. But he couldn't make her. He was totally helpless. The
whole thing just made her so ... hot, for some reason.

She selected one of the welts on his chest, aimed carefully, and brought the
belt down with a sharp tap on the same area, looking coolly down into his eyes
as he screamed in pain and writhed around, tugging at his arms and legs, which
were securely tied to the bed.

"Sheepdog!" he screamed. "Sheepdog! Stop! Please, stop! That really, really
hurts! I am really in pain, here!"

He was still erect. Shannon tapped him again with the belt, harder, in the
exact same spot, chuckling at him as he shrieked in pain.

"Damn it, Shannon!" he shouted. "Stop! You are getting carried away with
this!"

Shannon looked down into his face, and leaned in, putting her hand lightly on
the same welt on his chest, running her fingers along it, smirking at him as
he gasped and then whimpered in pain. "What if I don't want to stop?" she
asked. "What will you do then?" She gently took a handful of his flesh in her
hand, closing her fingers around the welt on his chest, squeezing her hand
tighter and tighter, looking carelessly down into his eyes as he squealed in
pain, his body shaking from it.

"Fucking bitch!" he screamed, finally. "Stop it!"

Shannon's eyes narrowed and she glared down at him. She let go of his chest,
and she roughly climbed on top of him. She straddled his stomach, looking down
into his face. She leaned forward, and slapped the welted area of his chest
with her open palm. Jon shrieked in pain and bucked his body beneath her.

She scooted herself up to his chest, straddling it, putting all of her weight
on top of his wounds, smirking at him as he gasped in pain and struggled for
breath beneath her, tugging helplessly at his arms.

"What did you fucking call me?" she asked threateningly, through clenched
teeth, voice stern but quiet, her hands on her hips.

"I ... I asked you to stop. I said the safe word," he said, a little
fearfully.

"Well, I didn't feel like stopping. You asked me to beat you, and then as soon
as I started getting in to it, you ask me to stop. And now, you're calling me
names?" She bounced up and down on his chest, against his wounds, until he was
again screaming in pain. "Well, fuck you," she continued. "You want me to
stop? You fucking make me."

"But, we had an agreement! We had a safe word!" John squealed, as she bounced
roughly on him.

"We agreed that we would try this once, and that if I didn't like it, we
wouldn't do it again. There was no provision for what we would do if I really
did like it, though. Too bad for you!" she pouted, reaching down to smack his
wounds with her open palm again.

"But we had a safe word!" Jon screamed.

"But we had a safe word," Shannon sniveled, pouting, taunting him. "So I
changed my mind. There is no safe word. Do something about it."

"But ... what about ... " Jon's voice trailed off.

Shannon laughed. "What about what? Sex?" She turned her head backwards to look
at his lower body. "You're cock is still throbbing, isn't it? You say you want
me to stop hurting you, but your cock seems to want some more. If I feel like
sex in a little while, maybe we'll have some. Right now, I feel like hurting
you some more," she giggled.

"Fucking bitch," Jon hissed.

Shannon scowled, and she leaned forward and smacked him in the mouth with the
back of her hand. She scooted up across his body, planting her crotch on his
face, with her knees on either side of his head. She turned her right knee to
the side, facing out, and she extended the calf beneath his head. She pulled
it up against the back of his head, and squeezed her thighs together against
the sides of his face, surrounding his head with her legs, mashing his nose
and mouth in against her crotch. He struggled wildly, but he couldn't move. He
couldn't do much of anything.

Shannon could tell that he couldn't breathe, either. "Call me a bitch again,"
she said quietly, squeezing his head between her thighs, pushing the weight of
her body down on his face, forcefully pulling his head up against her crotch.
"Come on. Call me a bitch." She waited, as he struggled to breathe against her
crotch. "No?" she asked. "Who's the fucking bitch now?" she asked, putting her
hands on her hips, glaring down into his eyes.

"You had better have an attitude adjustment when you wake up, if you know
what's good for you," she chuckled.

"No! No!" came Jon's muffled screams against her crotch.

"Oh, yes, yes," Shannon cooed. "Gasp for air against my pussy. That feels
really great. Mmmm. That's right. Pass out against my pussy, darling. And
remember what I said. No more name calling. That's just not nice." She watched
his eyes as his struggles and protestations became weaker, and she smiled
sweetly down into his face as he lost consciousness, gasping desperately for
breath, his face trapped against her crotch.

Jon had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he realized, as he
awoke, and slowly gained his bearings, that it must have been for at least
several minutes. Because although he was still lying on the bed, with all four
of his limbs secured to the bedposts, his body was now positioned face down.
And he had a piece of duct tape across his mouth. And his beautiful wife,
Shannon, lay on the bed, nude, face up, beneath him, her body pressed tightly
against his. His body was stretched so taut that, with her laying beneath him,
he was forced firmly against her. He couldn't pull away. He had no leverage,
his arms and legs were stretched tightly in four different directions, and
gravity was working against him, as well. He could feel her firm breasts,
erect nipples pressing against his wounded chest, and her crotch against his
stomach. She was still wearing her boots. He could feel them against his legs.

Shannon felt her husband immediately get an erection against her thigh. She
took a handful of his hair, and pulled his head back, so she could slide her
face beneath it, and look up into his eyes. He looked down at her fearfully,
and she felt herself warm with arousal. Dominating her husband this way, so
intimately, really was turning her on. She looked quietly, menacingly into his
eyes, and she began taking big, easy breaths, swelling her breasts against the
welts on his chest, smiling at him nastily as his groans were muffled by the
tape over his mouth.

As she continued to hold Jon's head by the hair, looking coldly up into his
eyes, swelling her breasts against his wounds, Shannon spread her legs apart,
and she raised them straight up into the air on either side of his waist,
allowing his middle to push snuggly against her crotch. Jon tried to back
away, but he couldn't move at all. Shannon crossed her legs in the air, behind
his back, and she started to squeeze his body between her thighs.

She let go of his head, letting it rest on her shoulder, and she wrapped her
arms around his back, hugging him tightly against her body, taking deep
breaths to swell her chest against his. Jon screamed, although if he were
trying to say anything in particular, it was indecipherable because of the
tape across his mouth.

As she caused him terrific pain with her firm chest pressed taut against his
wounded one, Shannon began to close her thighs around his middle. He struggled
and resisted, but she was able to defeat him fairly easily. He was already in
pain, he had no leverage, and she was very, very strong.

Shannon easily squeezed Jon's middle between her thighs until the muscles in
his abdomen were exhausted, and he was completely defenseless. She let go of
his upper body with her arms, now, and she again pulled his head back by a
handful of his hair so that she could look into his eyes, which looked
terrified and where welling up with tears. He was breathing little short
breaths in and out through his nose. Her thighs had collapsed his middle to
the extent that he could barely draw breath at all.

She squeezed her thighs in against his middle as tightly as she could,
watching his eyes, and she arched her back, thrusting her crotch in against
his belly, smirking up at him as he squealed and gasped for breath. Without
warning, she used her free hand to rip the duct tape off of his mouth, causing
him to shriek in pain. "I think I'd like to hear your screams," she said
quietly, intimately. "No more name calling, though," she continued, crushing
his belly with her legs, "or I'll break your fucking spine."

Shannon watched his eyes as he squealed in horror and gasped for breath, while
she continued to crush his tummy between her thighs. He could barely breathe
at all, now, and she could see from his face that she was causing him horrible
pain. He could do little more than squeal weakly, now, because he did not have
the lung capacity to scream.

She wrapped her arms back around his upper body, using one of her hands to
guide his head to the side of hers, his chin resting on her shoulder. She ran
her fingers absently through the hair on the back of his head, and she turned
her own so that she could put her lips lightly against his ear. Shannon
crushed his middle between her thighs until his body convulsed, and she held
him that way, gasping for each and every little breath, unable to do anything
more than whimper and tremble in pain.

"How do you like it?" she asked throatily, her lips against his ear. She could
feel his erection against her left buttock.

"Pease stop!" he whimpered, his voice making a hissing sound as it projected
from his mouth.

"Don't you like it?" she asked, feigning disappointment.

"N-n-no," he gasped. "Please, please let me go."

She held him there, crushing him between her thighs, listening as he gasped in
tiny little breaths and squeaked quietly in pain, his body shaking from it.
"But, I'm doing all of this for you," she taunted. "And you don't like it?
That hurts my feelings," she pouted, squeezing him until it felt as if she
could break him in two at any moment.

"I'm sorry," Jon gasped weakly. "Please, please."

"Your cock seems to like it," she continued, ignoring his entreaties. "Who's
telling the truth? You, or your cock?" she laughed, crushing him.

"Please, oh please stop!" he whimpered.

"I think I believe your cock," Shannon taunted.

"I'll do anything, oh God, please stop," Jon pleaded.

"Tell me you like it," she said quietly, her lips against his ear.

"I like it! I like it!" he squealed.

"Mmmm." She put her tongue in his ear. "I knew you did. That's good. I'll keep
doing it, then. I like it, too. Ohhhh. The feel of your body between my legs,
all weak and mushy, completely helpless, barely able to breathe, almost too
weak to talk ... it's just ... ohhhh. Yeah," she moaned, squeezing harder.

"Oh, please!" he whimpered, and started sobbing, his face against the side of
her neck.

"Oh my God!" Shannon moaned. "Oh, God! That's it. Cry. Oh, God. I'm making you
cry! Mmmm. That's it. Cry, sissy. Oh, yes." She felt him climax against her
buttock, but she did not acknowledge it.

Jon continued to let out short little sobs as she crushed his middle. "That's
right," she spoke into his ear. "Cry. Whimper. Ohhh, God," she moaned. She
wrapped her arms around his upper body and hugged it as hard as she could,
taking a big breath, swelling her breasts against him, and she squeezed his
middle between her thighs as hard as she could, and held it that way. He
literally could not breathe, now. She had forced all of the air from him, and
he had no lung capacity with which to draw in new breath.

She put her lips against his ear and moaned into it as she climaxed against
his belly, whilst she deprived him of any breath whatsoever. "Ohhh. Ohhh. Yes.
Mmmm." She released his upper body after a moment, and chuckled as he
immediately began coughing in short little breaths and sobbing again. "That
was fucking great," she moaned into his ear, as she continued to crush his
belly between her thighs, delighting at the feel of him weeping against her
neck and shoulder.

"Do you still like it?" she asked, with her lips against his ear.

"Y-yes," he sobbed.

She continued to crush him between her legs. "Do you want me to stop?" she
whispered.

"Please!" he gasped, his body once again convulsing in pain.

"Beg me," she giggled, kissing his ear with her lips.

"Please, oh please! I beg you. Please stop," he whimpered.

"Mmmm. Good. Call me mistress," she cooed, crushing him.

"Mistress," he gasped.

"Again," she said quietly.

"Mistress," he said again.

"Good. Now call me princess," she said, casually running her fingers through
his hair as she crushed his middle between her thighs.

"Princess," he answered, obediently.

"Goddess," she said.

"Goddess."

"Again," she said, kissing his ear playfully as she crushed him.

"Goddess," he repeated, urgently.

"Good," she said. "You came on my ass," she continued. "You soiled me. If I
let you go, and free your wrists, you will lick my ass clean." She arched her
back, forcing her crotch in against his middle as she continued to crush it
between her thighs, smiling to herself as he squealed and sobbed and choked in
tiny little breaths. "Tell me you'll do it. Or I'll squish you all night long.
Doesn't matter to me. I love the feel of you all mushy between my legs,
gasping for breath, sobbing like a little girl on my shoulder. I actually kind
of hope you refuse," she said.

"I'll do it! I'll do it!" he gasped, earnestly.

She kept squeezing, and arching her back. She pulled his head back so she
could look up into his teary eyes. "Beg me," she smirked at him. "Beg me to
let you."

"I beg you," he wept. "Please let me lick your ass. Please!"

"That's it," she purred, looking up into his eyes, her legs encircling him
possessively. "Beg some more."

"Please," he gasped, weakly. "Oh, please. I beg you. Let me lick you."

Shannon loosened her thighs, relieving the pressure around his middle,
smirking up at him as he took in deeper breaths, continuing to weep quietly in
humiliation. She held him loosely between her thighs for a few minutes,
looking up at him, enjoying her dominance over him.

Finally, she turned and reached on the nightstand for his pocket knife. She
cut his wrists free, and he gasped as blood rushed into his hands. Shannon had
tied them very tightly.

Shannon looked up in to his eyes coldly and said, "Do it." She bent her legs
upward at the knee, reaching down and encircling her legs with her arms,
hugging her knees against her chest, looking expectantly between them, up into
his face.

Jon scooted himself back on the bed, bending his legs at the knees, his feet
still tied to the bedposts. He moved his face to her bottom, and began licking
his ejaculate off of her. "That's right," she said, her voice thick with
arousal, "lick me clean."

Once Jon had licked Shannon's butt and thigh until they were sufficiently
clean, she released her knees, stretching her legs out straight, and she
caught his head between her thighs. She positioned herself so that her sex was
right against his mouth, and she closed her thighs around his head, crossing
her legs just below the knee behind his head, resting her feet comfortably on
his back.

She propped her head up on a pillow and looked down, over her breasts, into
his eyes, and said, "As long as you're down there, darling, why don't you make
yourself useful?" When he did nothing for a moment, she tightened her thighs
around his head until he screamed in pain. Looking coldly down into his eyes,
she said "Lick my fucking pussy, before I break something."

He put his tongue in her immediately. "Ohhhh! Good. That's it. Lick my pussy.
Mmmmm. That's fucking good. Put your tongue in me. You had better fucking lick
me well. Or there will be consequences. Put it in deeper. Oh, God, yes!"

"Thank you so much for suggesting that we try this, darling," she taunted.
"I'm enjoying it so much more than I thought that I would! I hope you're
enjoying it, too? Mmmmm, yes. No, don't answer. Rhetorical question. I don't
really give a shit. Just keep licking me. That's it. Oh, God! Keep licking.
No. Look up into my eyes while you service me! Don't you dare look away."

Shannon climaxed again, this time with her husband's tongue inside of her.
"Ohhh, yes!" she squealed, girlishly. She held his head between her thighs
possessively, turning her body to one side, mashing the back of his head
against the mattress, pressing his face in against her tightly.

She kept him there, afterwards, for several minutes, propping her head up on
one hand as she lay on her side, holding his head between her thighs, his face
against her crotch, looking down at him impassively as he labored for breath
against her body. "Mmmm," she said, finally. "Well, you're going to get your
wish, and then some. You want to be dominated, and humiliated? That's going to
be your entire home life, from now on," she laughed at him.

Finally, she loosened her grip on him, laughing as he gasped noisily gasped in
a greedy breath.

"I wouldn't get too used to breathing, if I were you." she threatened.

Shannon stood then, and she retrieved the pocket knife, using it to cut Jon's
feet free from the bed posts. She resumed her spot on the bed, lounging
against the headboard, peering down at his face bemusedly. She could not
believe how much she was enjoying this. And the possibilities for dominating
and humiliating her husband seemed limitless.

She stretched her foot out to where he still lay on the bed, and she pushed
the sole of it against his cheek. "Kiss my foot," she commanded him quietly,
and he complied without hesitation.

"Good. That's right, kiss it. Here, suck my toes. No, the little ones first.
Yes, that's better. Suck them. Now the big one." She jammed her foot in his
mouth rudely, laughing at him as he gagged. "You have to relax your throat
muscles," she giggled. "We'll have to work on that one, slave." She withdrew
her foot.

"Now," she said quietly, looking down at him. "Fetch me a glass of wine. And
then we will play some more. Move!" she said, her voice hushed, but menacing.
She drew back her foot as if she might kick him, but Jon quickly stood and
took a step towards the doorway.

"Oh no," Shannon smirked, nibbling on her fingernail. "You do not stand or
walk in this house, my house. You are my pet. My plaything. My slave. And you
crawl. On your hands and knees."

Jon turned back to look at her, unable to hide the surprise from his face. He
cast his eyes downward. "I'll get you a glass of wine, but I am not crawling
around like an animal in my own house." He turned away without looking back at
her face, and walked out of the room.

Shannon lay there for a moment, looking after him, chewing absently on her
fingernail. "Well," she thought, "he is fetching my glass of wine. He is doing
some of what I told him to do." But then she shook her head. "Fuck that," she
said to herself, quietly. "This isn't a fucking negotiation."

She stood up and quietly padded after him in her bare feet. Jon was halfway
down the hallway, on his way to the kitchen, and he did not hear Shannon
approach from behind. As she reached him, she landed a well-placed kick firmly
between his legs, planting the flat, top part of her foot against his exposed
scrotum.

Jon fell instantly to the floor, an inhuman squeal rising from his throat. He
curled into a fetal position and writhed in pain and shock. Shannon stood over
him, her arms folded across her chest.

As he lay there, curled up, moaning, nude, she had no trouble wedging a bare
foot between his legs, forcing it up between his buttocks. She found his
testicles with her toes, and curled them around him, pushing down savagely on
his privates, smirking to herself in satisfaction as he squealed in pain and
brought his hands up to her leg, pawing feebly at her well-toned calf.

She withdrew her foot and delicately stepped forward, standing over him,
straddling his body. Shannon lowered herself on to his face, carelessly
swatting away his hands as he reached up to push her away. She turned his head
so that his face was positioned upwards, and she situated her crotch on his
mouth.

Shannon brought her knees together on the floor, and put her hands on her hips
as she looked unsympathetically down into his eyes. He gasped against her sex,
and she spread her knees apart on the floor, lowering her full weight on to
his face, sealing his nose and mouth with her crotch.

"That was a bad fucking move," she said quietly, looking down into his eyes,
which grew wide as he gasped in vain for breath beneath her lovely body. "It's
my way, or the highway from here on out, husband. Although, really, the
highway isn't even an option for you. It's my way. Period."

She caught his wrists easily in her hands as he began groping desperately at
her knees, her thighs, her hips, anything to move her body so that he might
breathe. "Don't bother, darling," she said softly. "You really should save
your strength," she pouted down at him. "You might need it later."

Shannon looked down into his face for another moment, maintaining eye contact
with him until he lost consciousness beneath her. "God, I just love that!" she
giggled to herself, quickly withdrawing from his face, before she accidentally
killed him, or caused him brain damage. She sat casually on his chest for a
few minutes as she collected her thoughts, and planned her next move.

When Jon awakened this time, he woke with a start. He was again quite
disoriented, and as his eyes flew open, he screamed. Or, he tried to. He
instead made a muffled, moaning noise, as something in his mouth gagged him,
preventing an actual scream.

"My panties," Shannon laughed, from somewhere. "That's what is in your mouth."

He saw her now, as she entered his field of vision. As he began to regain his
bearings, Jon could tell that he was on the floor, in the bedroom. He lay flat
on his back, with his legs extended upward. He tried to move, as Shannon
approached him, and he quickly realized that his legs were affixed to the foot
of the bed. He lifted his head upward, and saw to his great dismay that his
legs were tightly wrapped with duct tape, at the knee. The duct tape encircled
not only both of his legs, but also the bed post, holding him firmly in place.
More duct tape had been wrapped repeatedly around his ankles, as well, holding
them tightly in place further up on the same bed post.

Jon immediately reached forward with his hands, intending to try to free his
legs, but he realized that his wrists and hands were also taped tightly
together in front of him, resting together uselessly on his lap. It was at
this point, eyes widened in terror as he looked up at Shannon, that he began
screaming again, his cries muffled by the makeshift gag in his mouth.

Shannon stood over him, arms folded across her bare chest, looking down at him
sternly. Never breaking eye contact, she silently lifted a foot, moving it
back against his legs, working her heel in between them, pushing in and down
until her foot was between his thighs. She shrugged her shoulders and smirked
at Jon's muffled screams, lowering her foot down, until it was flush against
his crotch. She felt his erection against the sole of her foot, and it
thrilled her.

Wrapping an arm around Jon's legs and the bedpost, Shannon lifted her other
foot off of the floor, placing all of her weight on his scrotum. Laughing at
his muted yelps, she held that position for several seconds, cruelly causing
him unspeakable pain, as she stood with all of her weight on his testicles.
She bent her leg slightly at the knee, and began bouncing on him,
rhythmically, laughing at his squeals, which followed the same pattern as her
bouncing.

After approximately twelve bounces, countless screams, and a great deal of
struggling weakly beneath her, Jon once again lost consciousness.

Jon was in exactly the same position when we woke again, lying on the floor,
legs affixed tightly to the bed, pointed straight up. He was in terrific pain,
which spread from his groin up through his stomach. His chest was also on
fire, as Shannon now sat straddling him, her bottom planted on his upper body,
between his arms, her elbows resting comfortably on her knees. He groaned and
quickly realized that his mouth was still gagged with Shannon's panties.

"Why, hello, lover," she smiled down at him. He looked up at her fearfully,
watching her rise and fall on his chest as he drew in slow, labored breaths.
"You have got to try a little bit harder to stay awake," she taunted. "I get
so ... very ... lonely ... when you keep passing out like that."

"We really should talk," she continued. "I am liking this whole me-in-control
thing. A lot. Which is so great for you, because it's exactly what you
wanted," she smirked at him.

Jon began trying to speak through the gag. "Shhhh," she said, holding a finger
to her lips. "When I said we should talk, what I kind of meant was that I
should talk, and you should keep your fucking mouth shut, and lay there, and
listen super carefully to every word I say."

"You were going to tell me that this isn't exactly what you wanted, isn't
quite what you had in mind," she said, and she reached a hand back,
maintaining eye contact with him all the while. She found his erection with
her hand, and grazed her fingers lightly up the shaft. "Your cock seems to be
liking it just fine," she purred, withdrawing her hand and leaning forward
once again. "So don't give me that crap."

"As I was saying," she resumed. "I had no idea, but I am digging this. So
we're going to keep right on doing it. I'm in charge. Of everything. If you
don't like something, too fucking bad. You do what I say now, when I say to do
it. You don't argue, and you don't negotiate. My way. Everything. All the
time," she said matter-of-factly, looking down at him. "You take orders from a
girl, now. Your wife, no less. Deal with it."

"You will crawl, everywhere, in this house. Like a slave. Like an animal. You
will learn to do everything on your hands and knees. Do you get it?" she asked
sternly, reaching forward to pull the gag out of his mouth.

"Shannon," he croaked. "Please, can we stop this? I am not going to crawl
around like an idiot in my own h ... " his speech was cut off as Shannon
scooted forward, planting her crotch rudely on his face.

She put her hands on her hips and looked down coolly into his eyes. "Oh, just
shut the fuck up," she said quietly. She sat on his face for another moment,
looking down in to his frightened eyes, and then she moved back slightly,
shoving her panties back in to his mouth.

She stood, then, grinding her hand into the wounds on his chest to support
herself as she rose, pouting down at him as he groaned in pain.

Shannon stood next to his legs, which were still positioned upright, fastened
tightly to the bedpost, feet in the air. She drew a fingernail lightly along
the sole of his foot, smiling down at him as he gasped and trembled.
"Precarious position you're in right now, darling. Don't you think?"

She leaned over to the bed, and Jon's eyes widened in terror as he saw her
take his belt from the top of the bed. "Very precarious position indeed," she
nodded, folding the belt in half, tapping it lightly against her open palm.

He pleaded with her to put the belt down, but his entreaties were muffled by
the gag in his mouth. She stood, towering over him, feeling power surge
through her. She leaned an elbow across his feet, resting on him casually as
if he were a piece of furniture, her firm breast, erect nipple grazing his
bare foot.

"It's not your house," she said quietly. "Not anymore." She took a step back,
watching his eyes. She struck the sole of his foot with the belt, glaring down
at him menacingly, pouting at his muffled scream.

"My house," she said, striking his foot with the belt again. "Mine," she
repeated, striking his other foot. "And everything in it," she continued,
hitting him again. "Including you," Shannon said, hitting him especially hard.

Jon squealed with each blow, muffled by the gag, his eyes pleading with his
wife to stop, helpless to do anything but lay there and take it.

Shannon began striking his feet with the belt in a deliberate back and forth
motion. "If ... I ... tell ... you ... to ... fucking ... crawl ... you ...
will ... fucking ... crawl ... bitch!" she told him through clenched teeth,
her words in rhythm to the blows of the belt. He screamed into the gag,
thrashing his body about helplessly. Still, he was rock hard for her, as he
watched his beautiful wife beat him, her breasts jostling to and fro as she
vigorously swung the belt back and forth.

The soles of Jon's feet were beet red, and covered in welts. Shannon stopped
beating him, and nonchalantly tossed the belt back on to the bed. She leaned
her elbow on the sole of his feet again, cruelly grinding it against a raw
welt, leaning comfortably against him, giggling as he thrashed and yelped in
pain.

"Guess you'll fucking crawl now, won't you?" she smirked down at him. "You do
what I say, when I say it. Every God damned time." She looked down at him
silently for another moment, to emphasize her point.

Shannon turned, then, and sat roughly on his belly, facing his legs. She began
to unwrap the duct tape, beginning with the tape wrapped around his ankles.
Once she had finished his ankles, she moved to the tape wrapped lower down on
his legs, unwrapping it abruptly, and laughing to herself as she ripped the
hair from his legs with it, ignoring his muffled screams.

When she had removed all of the tape, she leaned forward, reaching between his
legs, letting the heel of her palm graze the shaft of his erection, finding
his testicles, and delicately curling her fingers around them, smiling to
herself as his body tensed.

She turned to look back over her shoulder, into his face, squeezing his
testicles lightly in her hand, until he gasped. "Now," she said, "you will
crawl to the kitchen, and fetch me a glass of wine." She reached for the
panties, in his mouth, pulling them out. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jon said quietly.

Shannon tightened her fingers around his scrotum, just slightly, causing him
to gasp again. "Yes, what?" she asked, arching an eyebrow inquisitively?

"Yes, Mistress," Jon said, meekly.

"Mmmm," Shannon nodded. "Let's go with Mistress Shannon, shall we?" she asked,
holding one of his testicles between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing it
absently.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," Jon gasped.

"Good," she said, raising herself off of him, taking a seat on the bed. "Now
go."

"How am I to crawl with a glass of wine?" Jon asked, still on his back.

Shannon laughed down at him. "You had better figure out a way, my darling. And
if you spill a single drop of wine on my house," she paused, grazing her big
toe against his side, "there will be consequences. Grave consequences."

Jon knew better than to pursue the matter any further. Shannon swatted him
gently with her foot, and repeated "Now go. Before I become impatient."

She crossed her arms expectantly, and looked down into Jon's face as he rose
from his back, with some difficulty, and positioned himself on his hands and
knees. She laughed to herself as he crawled, nude, across the bedroom floor
and out in to the hall, to retrieve her glass of wine.

Shannon marveled at how thrilling this had all been, to dominate and humiliate
her husband, to turn him in to her slave, her property. She had thought all of
that female domination stuff that Jon had been looking at seemed kind of
silly, and more importantly kind of pretend. Like it was all for the men.
Because the men wanted it, the men thought it was hot, the men had a fetish.
It had seemed to her that the women were just play acting. Playing a role.

That was why she had not found the idea of it all that appealing, she
concluded. She had not even considered the possibility of actually dominating
her husband, really controlling him, truly humiliating him. Neither had he,
she smiled to herself. This had all been a game to him.

She would not have even have considered it a legitimate possibility that she
might physically hurt and dominate her husband, control him, demean him, use
him sexually solely for her enjoyment. Who did that? Weirdos and freaks. Was
she a weirdo, now? Was she a freak?

"I don't give a shit," she thought, smiling to herself as Jon returned with
her glass of wine. He crawled slowly, placing it on the floor ahead of him,
crawling a "step", picking up the glass of wine and placing it further ahead
of him, crawling another "step", repeating this process over and over, in
order to move forward through the house with the glass of wine, without
spilling it.

"No," she reiterated to herself, looking down into his eyes, feeling power and
strength coursing through her. "I don't give a shit if I am a weirdo or a
freak. I fucking love this, and I am not going back to the way things were
before, not if I can have this instead."

"Good," she said to Jon, as he approached her. She held her hand out
expectantly, and Jon placed the glass in it. Shannon raised it to her lips,
and took a sip, looking into Jon's eyes all the while.

"Now place it on the nightstand," she said, handing it back down to him.

He took it, and began crawling, putting the glass down, crawling, putting the
glass down, towards the night stand.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," she said quietly. "Isn't that what you meant to say?"

"Yes," he said immediately, turning back to her. "Yes, sorry. Yes, Mistress
Shannon."

"Silence," she commanded quietly. "Do not make it worse for yourself. Crawl to
the middle of the floor," she ordered him. "Over there. And lie on your back."

She maintained eye contact with him as he complied, and she felt tremendous
arousal once again, at her complete control over this person who had been her
equal earlier that evening.

"Good," she said, rising to her feet, and padding over to where he lay on the
carpet. She sat on his chest, facing his lower body, and she lay down on her
front.

"Please," Jon said, as she parted her legs, positioning her thighs on either
side of his head.

"I said silence," she repeated, and he complied. She reached back between her
legs, finding his head, pulling at his hair to lift his head further between
her thighs, so that his chin was between the cheeks of her buttocks. She
tightened her thighs snuggly around his head, enough to hold it in place, but
not yet enough to hurt him.

"In one of your video clips, I saw a woman with a man in a hold like this, and
she seemed to be able to cause him horrible pain, with very little effort,"
Shannon said, crossing her arms and lying the side of her face down on them,
resting comfortably on her husband, as she held his head firmly between her
muscular thighs.

She flexed her thigh muscles, smiling to herself as this elicited immediate
screams from Jon. She tightened them slowly, casually enjoying the gasps and
screams that this produced. "Do you think that I'm doing it right?" she
taunted. "I've never done this before, and it's just so hard to tell."

Jon screamed in pain. "Yes, yes I guess this must be right," she said quietly,
smiling to herself as she lay comfortably on him.

Jon put his hands on her legs, her buttocks, in a desperate but fruitless
attempt to pry them loose, gasping and squealing urgently all the while.

Shannon squeezed harder still. "Do not paw me, husband. Take your hands off
me. Now. That's better. Put them on the floor, at your sides." She relaxed her
muscles for a moment, allowing him a brief respite, laughing at him as he
choked in breath.

She flexed them again, harder now, and Jon's squeals were horrible, desperate.
"Shhh," she said. "I understand that this is painful for you. But you need to
find a way to keep quiet. I want you to hear me, and I do not wish to shout.
That's it," she cooed, as he struggled to keep his screams in his throat, his
entire body tensed and convulsing in pain.

"That's better," she said quietly, laying on him comfortably, taking nice,
easy breaths as he suffered unspeakable pain beneath her. "Much better." She
relaxed her thighs again, allowing him to recover, and he pulled his head
back, so that his face no longer touched her bottom.

"No," she said quietly. "Put your head back the way it was. Press your face
against my ass. Now," she said quietly, through clenched teeth. "Mmmm, that's
it," she teased, as he complied.

Shannon flexed her thigh muscles again. "Shhh," she reminded him. "When I tell
you to do something, you do it. You say, 'Yes, Mistress Shannon,' and you do
it. Immediately. You do not argue, you do not hesitate, you do not do a
fucking thing, except what I have ordered, and you do it right the fuck away.
Do you understand?" she asked, slowly tightening her thighs around his head.

"Yes! Yes, Mistress Shannon," he gasped.

"Good. This must be so, terribly humiliating for you. I mean, you wanted me to
do some of these things with you, to feed your little fetish. But you wanted
it to be an act, to be pretend. To be temporary," she said, crushing him
between her thighs until he could not help but squeal.

"Quiet," she said, relaxing her muscles for a moment, allowing him to recover.
He held his head still, this time.

"This is real, though," she continued, flexing her muscles again, smiling to
herself as his body shook in pain. "I own you now. We are not equals. I am in
charge. You belong to me. You do what I say."

"Look at you," she taunted. "Lying there, with me on top of you, torturing
you, and you can't do anything. You can't even try to escape, can't even
scream from the pain, unless I let you. Such a pathetic situation in which to
find oneself" she said sadly, smiling.

She relaxed again, and Jon gasped in breath, his body settling down, becoming
still, at least for a moment.

"And yet," she continued, resuming the pressure on his head with her thighs,
"despite the constant pain, the seemingly unbearable humiliation, the complete
and utter loss of self you have endured at my fancy," she reached down and ran
a finger along his throbbing erection, squeezing her thighs against his head
still tighter, "despite all of that, you are hard as a rock for me. I don't
know how you can bear it," she smirked.

Shannon continued increasing the pressure with her thighs, until he could not
help but scream, despite his best efforts to remain silent. "Apparently, I am
a terrible, awful bully," she said. "I really had no idea!" She shrugged her
shoulders. "But really, there's no debating it, at this point. I am a mean,
cruel, awful bully."

She relaxed her thighs, and smiled to herself as she heard him weeping, felt
his body wrack with sobs.

"Poor baby," she said sweetly. "Poor, poor boy. So abused, and mistreated, by
your pretty, young wife." She lay on him comfortably, letting him sob against
her bottom for a few moments. "Mean, nasty bully. Picking on you so," she
pouted, smiling to herself.

"Beg me to stop?" she asked, savoring the feel of his sobbing body beneath
her.

"Please!" he wailed. "Please, Mistress Shannon! Please stop."

"Oh, that's it," she enthused. "Grovel. Plead with me."

"Oh, please, Mistress Shannon," he repeated. "I beg you. Please, please stop."

Shannon lifted herself up on to her knees slightly. "Kiss my ass," she said.
"Now."

Jon leaned up and pressed his lips to her left buttock.

"Good," she said. "Put your mouth on my ass. That's it. Kiss it. Mmmp, mmmp,"
she made kissing noises with her lips. Plant some nice, big kisses on my ass,
slave."

Shannon smiled to herself, and absently ran her finger up and back on his
erection as he complied, placing big, noisy, wet kisses all over her bottom.

"Beg me," she said, "With your mouth on my ass. Kiss my ass and plead with me
at the same time."

He kissed her bottom, his voice muffled against it as he said "Please,
Mistress. I beg you. Please stop."

"Mistress Shannon," she corrected. "Say it. With your lips against my ass."

"Mistress Shannon," he said, his lips to her behind.

"Again," she said, her voice thick with arousal. "Grovel for mercy."

"Please, Mistress Shannon. Please," he said, his words barely decipherable
against her bottom.

"Oh, good," she enthused. "Now, lick it, all over. That's right. Lick every
inch of my ass, slave. You must. You must lick my ass. If you are to appease
me, you have no choice, but to lick my ass, until I allow you to stop," she
said throatily.

"Now wrap your arms around my back. No, around my back. That's it. Yes, lick
in the middle, put your tongue deep into my ass. Oh, good. That's right. Lick
your Mistress' ass. Wrap your arms more tightly. Pull yourself into that ass.
Good," she chuckled.

"I had better not feel you resting, husband," she continued, humiliating him
as he licked her bottom. "I want to feel your tongue, deep, deep inside of my
tight little asshole. Oh, God! Yes, lick my asshole, slave!"

Shannon reached forward and wrapped her fingers around his testicles, giving
them a light squeeze, laughing at him as he ejaculated on his stomach. "You
love licking my ass, don't you, husband? I think you must."

"Don't you slow down," she ordered, tightening her grip on his testicles until
he squealed, deep between her buttocks. "You lick my ass, slave. That's it.
Put your tongue in my ass. Deeper. Oh, God. Yes! Lick me! Beg me now!" she
ordered.

"Please, Mistress Shannon," Jon said, his tongue buried inside of her.

"Oh fucking yes," she sighed. "Again! Now!"

"Please, Mistress Shannon. Please," he said.

"Oh, yes! Beg me!" she moaned. Shannon straightened her legs, bringing her
crotch down roughly on his face, smacking the back of his head to the floor,
and she reached crashing orgasm with her sex on his face, the full weight of
her body on top of him once again.

"Mmmm, God," she sighed, resting comfortably with her sex on his face. "That,"
she said, "is what sex should be like. Don't you agree, darling?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon. Of course," he replied, his lips against her body, as
she lay on him.

Shannon rose, then, and walked over to the nightstand, to retrieve her glass
of wine. She moved back over to Jon, and she touched a foot to the side of his
head, turning it so that one side of his face was on the floor. She lowered
herself, then, sitting on his head, her bottom against the exposed side of his
face.

She sipped her wine quietly for several minutes. "I can literally do anything
I want to you," she said quietly. "And you just have to take it. Who are you
going to tell? What are you going to do? Fight back? Leave? You can't. You
can't do anything, anything at all unless I allow it."

"And you love it," she continued. "Whether you would admit it or not, because
of what it makes you. A submissive little ass-licking slave," she giggled.
"Shit, this is your deepest, darkest fantasy!"

"And, if I'm wrong, if you don't like it, if it's not what you had hoped, if
the humiliation is really much more than you can bear? Too fucking bad," she
laughed, sipping her wine. "Too fucking bad," she repeated, bouncing lightly
on his head.

"I own you. You do what I say. Everything. Every ... fucking ... thing," she
taunted, grinding her bottom against his head.

She rose to her feet. "I need another glass of wine," she said, poking him in
the side with her toe.

Jon immediately rose to his hands and knees, and reached up for the glass.

"I'll carry the glass this time, darling," Shannon said, and she stepped
across him with one leg, lowering herself onto his back.

She reached her empty hand behind her back, between his legs, cupping his
testicles, squeezing them lightly. "Mine," she said quietly.

Shannon withdrew her hand, and placed it lightly on his back. She squeezed her
thighs lightly against his sides, and said "Now, crawl."

Jon did as she commanded, and crawled slowly, steadily to the kitchen. When
they arrived, she slid off his back, and walked to the counter, pouring
herself another glass of wine, as he waited beside her on his hands and knees.

"What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the floor?

"I'm sorry!" he said quickly.

"Is that a drop of wine, from earlier?" She put her hand on her hip, looking
down at him sternly. "Did you spill wine on the floor, after I told you to be
careful, after I explicitly said that there would be consequences if you made
a mess?"

"Please," he said urgently, trembling, averting his eyes.

"You had better be afraid. You had better be very, very afraid," she growled.

Shannon reached to the counter, withdrawing a wooden spatula. She pulled one
of the kitchen chairs out from the table and turned it outward. She turned
back to Jon. He shrunk from her, crawling back a step, and then another.

"Don't you dare fucking run away from me," she hissed, roughly taking his head
by the hair, and dragging him across the kitchen floor to the chair. She sat
down in it, keeping hold of his hair, and then she yanked him across her lap,
face down, pulling his hair harshly until she had him bent across her lap.

"Please, Mistress Shannon," Jon began.

"Shut up," she said coldly, smirking behind his back. "I'll tell you when to
grovel. Until then, you just keep your fucking mouth shut, slave."

She took the wooden spatula from the table, and she touched it to his exposed
bottom. He shrunk away from her, towards the floor. Shannon grabbed a handful
of his flesh, the wounded, scarred flesh in the middle of his back, and he
shrieked in pain.

"Be still," she said firmly, and he obeyed, still screaming in pain.
"Silence," Shannon said, releasing her grip on his back, resting her open hand
on it firmly instead.

"Now," she said, as he lay across her lap, trembling in terror. "You lie
there, quietly. You lie there, and you take it like a man," she smiled to
herself.

Shannon drew the spatula back, and she smacked it harshly against his bottom.
He screamed a little, with his mouth closed, obviously trying with all of his
might to keep still, and to remain silent.

She spanked him again, and again, and again. "You will obey me," she said
quietly, and struck him with the spatula again. "In everything," she said,
hitting him yet again. "When you are disobedient, when you are careless, you
will be punished," she continued, hitting him again.

She felt his erection against the inside of her thigh as he lay across her
lap, being spanked by her like a petulant child. She struck him again, and
again.

"You will appease me," she said, bringing the spatula against his bottom yet
again. "Always," she said, in unison with another blow. "Or you will suffer my
wrath."

Jon's bottom was bright red, now, with gruesome imprints in the shape of the
spatula. Shannon smiled to herself and tossed it on the table behind her. She
began striking him with the open palm of her hand, instead.

"I guess you won't be standing or sitting for a while," she said coldly, as
she continued to spank him, feeling his erection throbbing against her thigh
all the while.

"I cannot begin to fathom how humiliating this must be for you," she taunted,
as she slapped his bottom roughly with her open palm. "Thrown across your
wife's lap, spanked, berated, unable to do anything but lie there quietly and
take blow, after blow, after blow," she said, spanking him in unison.

Shannon heard him begin to weep as he lay across her lap, felt his sobs, and
she had no remorse. No pity. He would be fine. He would heal. She hadn't
damaged him permanently. Not in any important way. He needed to be trained.
Besides, she was enjoying it too much to stop.

She spanked him again, and again, as he wept in her lap. "You may beg now,"
she said quietly.

"Please," he cried. "Oh, please, Mistress Shannon. Please stop."

She struck him again, and then lay her hand flat on his bottom. "Continue,"
she urged. "Plead with me," she said, patting his bottom possessively as he
wept in her lap. "Plead for mercy."

"I beg you, Mistress Shannon," he sobbed. "Please, please be merciful. I beg
you," he said, and his body wracked with sobs.

"Poor, poor baby," she cooed, patting his red bottom. "That's it, cry it all
out. This must be a terrible shock for you. Such an adjustment. One minute you
are a free person, an equal in a relationship, a man. And the next you are a
possession, a slave, a plaything. I frankly couldn't bear it. But, then again,
I don't have to, do I? Keep begging."

"Please," he said, no longer weeping. "Please stop, Mistress Shannon."

"Very well," she said, abruptly rising to her feet, dumping him unkindly to
the floor with a thump. She chuckled at his groans, at the expression of shock
on his face.

"Oh, sorry!" she smirked. "Crawl over to that spot on the floor, and clean it,
with your tongue. Lick my floor clean, slave. Now."

Jon rose gingerly to his hands and knees, crawling across the floor, and
lowering his tongue to the tile. He licked several times, until the spot was
gone.

"That tongue is getting quite a workout today," she taunted. "Now, come here,"
she ordered, pointing to the floor by her feet. She topped off her glass of
wine as he crawled to her.

"Apparently you need to practice crawling more steadily," she said, looking
down into his eyes. She lowered herself onto his back, sitting side saddle
this time, with her legs both dangling off to the left.

"Carry me back to the bedroom," she ordered. "And if you spill me, or a drop
of my wine ... " she trailed off, and smacked him on his bottom, laughing to
herself as he yelped and stiffened his body, so as not to slosh her drink.

"That's it," she said as he crawled across the house. "Carry your mistress on
your back. Carefully. Very, very carefully. Do not displease her. You are
completely at her mercy, and thus you absolutely mustn't displease her. Under
any circumstances."

She sipped casually from her glass as he labored carefully down the hallway.
"What shall we do when we get back to the bedroom?" she asked.

Jon recognized this as a taunt, and replied "Whatever you wish, Mistress."

"Oh, yes," she giggled. "Of course. Whatever I wish. It's always whatever I
wish, from here on out, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he answered from beneath her.

"Because you're my slave, aren't you? Isn't that right?" she patted him on the
bottom.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he replied, grimacing in pain.

"My toy. My plaything. My servant. Is that right, husband?"

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, Mistress Shannon. Whatever you say."

"I have to wonder," she said, hopping delicately off of him as he reached the
bedroom, "how unbelievably humiliating this must be for you. And you, so
completely, totally defeated that you dare not complain, or voice dissent, or
so much as speak in a disagreeable tone of voice for fear of the repercussions
from me."

"Ah, well," she shrugged, smirking down at him. "Lick my foot, darling, why
don't you? Mmmm, that's right. Lick each and every toe. Show me your
obedience, let me feel your obedience between my toes. Look up into my face
while you lick my foot, my sweet. Yes, that's better. I like to see your eyes
while you humble yourself before me." She sipped her wine, and looked down at
him for several minutes, as he sucked her toes.

"I'm tired," she yawned, stretching, and setting her glass of wine on the
nightstand. "Climb into bed," she commanded. "You probably don't have a
comfortable side left to lay on, do you?" she pouted at him, laughing as he
climbed into the bed, wincing and gasping as he lay down on his side.

Shannon turned out the light, and she climbed in to bed next to him. "On your
back," she said quietly, smiling to herself as he complied, despite his
discomfort.

She lay on her side, next to him, spooning up against one side of him. She
rested her head on one of his shoulders, her hair spreading across his face
and chest. She drew one leg up and draped it possessively across his body,
pressing her chest in against his side.

"Do not despair, husband," Shannon said quietly, into his ear, nestling
herself up against him, feeling his erection against her leg once again. "I
still love you. As much as ever. We will still spend our lives together. We
will still take care of one another. It will just be different than either of
us had imagined. Perhaps you might come to enjoy it, once we rid you of your
silly pride."

Shannon drifted off to sleep, resting comfortably as Jon lay awake next to
her, for several hours, still so very aroused at her touch and her smell, and
so terribly humiliated at what he had been through. How could this have
happened? What could he do? He was clearly no match for her. He could not
overpower her. Could he leave her? Should he? He didn't think he could bear
it. Despite the pain and the excruciating humiliation Shannon had subjected
him to, he had been more physically aroused tonight than at any other time he
could remember. And of course, he still loved her, too.

And there she lay, right next to him. So incredibly sexy, and powerful. This
awesome, amazing woman. And she was his. Or, at least, he was hers, he
corrected himself. She was his Mistress is what she was. Eventually, Jon fell
asleep, as well.

When Jon awoke, Shannon was sitting on his chest, straddling him, still nude.
He lay on his back in the bed, where he had fallen asleep. She sat atop him,
holding their cordless phone in her hand.

"You need to call in sick," she said. "I've already called in to my job. We
have much to discuss today."

Jon had a meeting with his boss later that morning. He looked at the phone and
quickly up into Shannon's eyes, and swallowed. She held the phone out to him,
her eyes narrowing expectantly.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," Jon said, taking the phone from her. "Of course,
Mistress Shannon."

"That's it," she said, putting her hands on her hips, looking down at him as
he dialed his boss.

"Oh, hi Kristen," Jon said. "Listen, um, I'm really sorry about this, but I'm
feeling terrible this morning. I've been up sick most of the night."

He was silent for a moment. "Oh, thanks. I'm sure it's just some kind of bug.
Hopefully I'll just sleep it off. I know we were going to meet on that project
later. I hope we can ... " he paused again.

"Oh, thanks. I really appreciate it, Kristen. Oh, thanks very much. I'm sure
I'll see you tomorrow, and ... "

Shannon plucked the phone from his hand, and hit the "end" button.

She slid forward on him, and roughly planted her crotch on his face. "That's
enough talking, slave," she giggled. "If you have anything else to say, tell
it to my pussy."

She looked down between her knees into his eyes. "Why don't you start licking
me now? Mmmm. That's better. I love your tongue in me. More than your cock,
actually," she taunted, looking down in to his eyes.

"Oh, God! That's right. Lick your mistress. Mmmmm. Yes. Push it in deeper.
More," she commanded. "If you want to breathe again, put that tongue in me
deeper. Work it this way," she said, moving her hips the way that she wanted
him to lick her.

"Yes!" she enthused. "That's it, lover. Lick me. We'll turn you into the best
little pussy licker on the planet, won't we? Oh, God! Yes!" she cried, as she
climaxed on his face.

She hugged his face firmly against her crotch, looking down into his eyes as
she climaxed, and for several moments afterwards. "Oh, God," she moaned. "Oh,
fuck. Oh," she sighed, releasing his head, and scooting back so that he could
breathe more easily.

She laughed at him as he coughed in breath. "It's lucky for you that you are
such a good little ass licker, such a promising pussy eater. I'm not likely to
kill you so long as you can do that to me!" she laughed, looking down at him
as she straddled his face. "I might hurt you really, really badly," she
smiled, "but I'd be crazy to kill you. Or to hurt that mouth, either," she
said, squeezing her thighs against either side of his jaw, for emphasis.

She slid off of him, and lay on her side, next to him, looking into his eyes.
"Go take a shower, brush your teeth, shave, all of that. Also, there is some
hydrogen peroxide in the cabinet. I suggest that you disinfect your wounds.
You have five minutes. Then I'll shower, and you can make me breakfast. Your
five minutes starts right now," she said, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," Jon replied, and he slid out of bed and took a step
towards the bathroom, and was quickly reminded of the horrible damage that
Shannon had done to the soles of his feet the night before. As he put just the
slightest bit of weight on his foot, he squealed in pain and fell to the
floor.

Shannon rolled over in bed to look at down at him, laying on the floor. "You
crawl now, remember?" she laughed at him. "You're not likely to forget that
too many times, are you, my dear? You had better hurry," she smiled sweetly.
"You are down to four minutes. Shall we find out what happens if you are
late?"

"No, Mistress Shannon," he said, scrambling to his hands and knees, and
crawling across to the bathroom.

Shannon lay on her back, smiling to herself as she heard Jon fumbling
desperately in the bathroom to complete his tasks in the scant few minutes she
had granted him, all whilst unable to stand up or sit down.

Somehow, Jon managed to return within the allotted time. Shannon smiled down
at him and rose from the bed. She walked to his bureau, and took out a pair of
briefs.

"Put these on," she said, handing them down to him as he knelt before her.
"I'll go shower, and you can make me breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast, juice,
coffee. Go. It had better be ready when I get to the kitchen," she said.

Jon crawled to the kitchen, and he set to work fixing breakfast for Shannon.
He found it to be especially challenging, because he could not stand or walk.
He had to crawl to one of the kitchen chairs, lift and crawl it across the
floor on his hands and knees, and then kneel on it to reach the eggs in the
refrigerator, then move it to the stove, then to the coffeepot, and so forth.

It thus took him a great deal of time and effort to make breakfast, and to set
the table for Shannon. She actually finished her shower, and padded quietly
into the kitchen doorway while he was still laboring. Rather than announce
herself, or scold him, though, she stood just out of view and peeked in on
him.

She thrilled at it. She felt so powerful, and so very in control. Here was her
husband, who could not walk, whom she had beaten barbarically yesterday,
struggling and crawling around in the kitchen, trying desperately to appease
her. Because she had commanded it. Don't stand. Don't walk. But make me
breakfast. And make it snappy.

She smiled as she saw that he had finally finished everything, and was
carefully crawling her juice, and then her coffee over to the table. "Is it
ready?" she asked, walking in to the room. She wore lacy panties, and nothing
else.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," her husband said, from his knees.

"Good," she said. "I am hungry. I've worked up quite an appetite, beating you,
over, and over, and over again," she smiled sadly at him, and sat in her
chair.

Jon of course could not respond, and instead crawled to the stove and
retrieved her eggs, carrying them carefully over to the table.

Shannon served some to herself, and gave the bowl back to Jon, who crawled it
back to the counter, and retrieved Shannon's toast.

"I would offer to help you, darling," she said sweetly, picking up a forkful
of eggs. "But, well, you are the fucking slave, now aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he answered quietly, handing her the toast.

"Butter," she said quietly, smiling down at him. "Please, my love?"

"Yes, of course, Mistress Shannon," Jon said as he crawled to the
refrigerator.

"You are going to eat, too, aren't you, darling?" Shannon asked him. "You
should get yourself some, too. You can eat there," she pointed to the floor at
her feet. "On your knees, at my feet."

"Yes, Mistress Shannon, of course. Thank you," he answered meekly, handing her
the butter and crawling back to the counter to get some food for himself.

Jon crawled a plate of eggs and a glass of water over to the spot on the floor
at Shannon's feet, and he ate, as she had bid him to do. She stroked his hair
affectionately as she sipped her coffee.

"That was very good, my dear," she told him. "I will have some more coffee,
before you do the dishes."

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," Jon replied, crawling away to refill her cup, as she
smirked contentedly after him.

She sat, then, at the table, drinking her coffee, and watching her husband
crawl around the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, and washing the dishes.
She could have punished him for not doing an adequate job wiping off the
table, or some other such offense, but there would be time for that later. She
had other plans for this morning.

When Jon finished cleaning and washing, Shannon said "Come here," pointing to
the floor in front of her.

Jon looked up at her fearfully. "Mistress Shannon?" he said.

"Come. Here." Shannon repeated, sternly. "Which part of that do you not
understand?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress Shannon," he said, crawling quickly over to her.

She stood, then, putting her hands on her hips, towering over him as he knelt
before her. She turned the chair she had been sitting in outward, so if faced
away from the table.

"Remove your briefs, and sit in the chair," she said.

"Mistress Shannon, I ... " he stammered.

"I know. I beat you very, very badly. It will be painful for you to sit. But
it will be much more painful if you don't. Now move," she said through
clenched teeth.

It was a hard, wooden kitchen chair, and Shannon knew it would be excruciating
for Jon to sit on it, with his bottom covered in blisters and welts,
administered by her. He would survive, though. It would not cause him any
lasting damage.

Understanding that he had no options, Jon crawled up in to the chair, and sat
down gingerly, gasping in pain as he did so. He shifted delicately from one
position to another, but Shannon had beaten him so thoroughly that they were
all equally painful.

"There," Shannon said. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She knew that it was in
fact excruciating.

"N-n-no, Mistress Shannon," Jon answered, meekly.

"Good," she smirked, slipping out of her panties and approaching him. "Because
this may hurt a bit." She straddled him on the chair, looking into his eyes,
and slowly lowered herself onto his lap, studying him as he clenched his
teeth, bit his lip, finally succumbed to the pain and squealed. Sitting down
at all was agonizing, but sitting with Shannon's full weight on him as well
was nearly unbearable. Jon knew though, that he had no choice but to bear it
just the same.

She held her face inches from his, looking down into his eyes. "Am I hurting
you, darling?" she asked.

"Y-y-yes, Mistress Shannon," Jon managed.

"My poor dear," she pouted. "I do love you," she said. "Why is it, then, that
I love hurting you so? Do you love it? Being hurt by me?" Shannon felt his
erection against her bottom.

"Y-yes, Mistress Shannon," he answered, albeit reluctantly.

Shannon did not know whether he was being honest, or whether he was answering
as he believed she wished him to answer. Either possibility thrilled her. In
the end, it did not matter. Torturing and humiliating him brought her great
pleasure, and she had no intention of stopping.

"Do you want me to get up?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"I want whatever you want, Mistress Shannon," he replied meekly, throbbing
against her, as she sat on his lap, humiliating him, causing him unspeakable
pain.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, I suppose you do, don't you. What we want is one and
the same. Both of us care for nothing but my contentment, isn't that true, my
love?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he answered humbly.

"That's very good, my husband," she said. "Very good. It is so much simpler
that way, don't you think?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he said.

"Do you feel pathetic right now?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, Mistress Shannon, I do," he said.

"I should think so," she nodded. "I can't even imagine how very pathetic you
must feel. Can you imagine possibly feeling any more wretched than you do at
this instant?" she smirked.

"Mistress Shannon, I don't know. No. I can't imagine how I could possibly feel
any more pathetic than this," he answered.

She smiled and nodded, sadly. "I know, darling. I know." She leaned in,
nuzzling her face against his, her eyes inches from his. "I'll bet you can,
though."

"Please, Mistress ... " he began.

"Shhh," she replied, her finger against his lips. "I haven't asked you a
question, so you can't possibly have reason to speak."

Shannon put her feet on the floor, and rose off his lap slightly, reaching her
hand beneath herself, finding his erection. She took hold of him with her
hand, and she guided him into her. She lowered herself back on to his lap,
taking him all the way inside of her. "Mmmm," she sighed.

She moved her face very close to his, until their noses touched. She looked
down into his eyes, seeing his arousal, in spite of his pain and humiliation.
"Don't you cum in me," she said quietly. "Don't you dare cum in me. You don't
get to," she said, her lips against his.

"I know it will be difficult," she continued, her tongue on his lips. "But you
had better find a way, lover."

She sat very still on him, feeling him throbbing inside her, holding his gaze,
studying his eyes, which were filled with fear. She thought that she might
climax right then, herself, looking into those terrified eyes. But she did
not.

"I assume that I have your attention?" she asked, her lips against his ear,
biting it playfully, her full, firm breasts against his chest. "Am I correct?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he squeaked, and she nearly laughed at the timidity
in his voice.

"Good," she said, pulling her head back, so that she was again face to face
with him, nearly nose to nose, still sitting very still, her nipples lightly
grazing his chest as she looked down in to his eyes and spoke to him.

"Here is how things are going to be," she said, her voice thick with arousal,
feeling an amazing rush of power as she sat on him, hurting him, fucking him,
but not allowing him to climax.

"I am going to put in for that promotion, at work," she said. "Everyone knows
that if I apply for it, I'll get it. I know that we agreed that I would not
pursue it, because that job would be too much for me once we have children."

Shannon paused, letting this settle in, reading his eyes for any reaction. He
seemed on the verge of saying something, but thought better of it.

"With my promotion, though, we will no longer need your income. You will leave
your job, so that you can attend to me full time. You will cater to my every
whim. That will be your job. It will be your entire life. And when we have
kids, you will care for them, too."

Shannon looked in to his eyes. "Have you anything to say, my love?"

"Yes, Mistress Shannon. Whatever you want, Mistress Shannon," he answered
quietly.

She put her lips on his. "That's right," she sighed. "Whatever I want. That's
what you do. Whatever I say." She shifted slightly, arching her eyebrow as he
gasped again. "You will make no decisions, about anything in our lives, no
matter how important, or how trivial. You will yield to me in everything. I am
the mistress. You are the slave."

He gasped and held his breath as she rocked her hips on him, her lips against
his face. "Mine," she said, putting her hand flat against his chest. "I own
you. Completely. Oh, God," she sighed, clenching herself around his erection.
"Oh, I fucking own you. You do what I say. Mmmm. You're not going to cum, are
you darling?" she taunted. She dug her fingernails into the back of his neck
and bit his ear, smiling to herself as he climaxed inside of her, despite his
best efforts to control himself.

She sat still on him, her mouth still against his ear. "Do you feel even more
pathetic now, my love?" she whispered. "I'll bet that you do. See, and you
thought that you couldn't possibly? Poor, pitiable darling."

Shannon leaned back and looked into his eyes, which were indeed filled with a
mixture of fear and shame. She thought she might climax right then herself,
with him flaccid, but still inside of her, looking so afraid, and so
humiliated.

But no. She raised herself off of him, maintaining eye contact as she stood.
She put her hand on his shoulder, and shoved him forcefully off the chair,
giggling as he landed on the floor, on his bottom, shrieking in agony. She sat
down in the chair herself.

"Come here," she said quietly, confidently. "Now."

Jon quickly obeyed, moving to his hands and knees, crawling to where she sat,
kneeling in front of her on the floor. She spread her legs apart to either
side of him.

Shannon took his head by the hair, and pulled him to her. "Clean me out," she
said, pressing his face to her sex. "I told you not to cum inside of me, and
you did it anyway. You couldn't help yourself. And now you have to lick it
out. Every last drop. Start licking," she said, pressing him against her
crotch.

"That's right," she taunted. "Lick me. Look up at my face while you lick. All
that you had to do, as I sat on you, inflicting pain on you, telling you that
your life from this point forward will be completely as my slave ... all that
you had to do, was not cum. And you couldn't help yourself. And now, you must
lick me clean. That is just how powerless you are in this relationship. Lick
your cum out of me."

"Mmmm, that's it," she laughed at him, as he licked her obediently. "Lick
every last drop of it out of me. Ohhh. That's right. Lick my pussy. Clean it
good. All over. Don't you slow down, darling. Don't you dare. That's right.
Lick your mistress."

After another minute, she pushed his head away, looking down into his eyes as
he knelt before her. She turned around on the chair, kneeling on it, resting
her elbows on the back of it. She turned to look down over her shoulder at
Jon.

"Now, lick my ass. Kiss it first. Just as I taught you. That's right. Kiss
that ass," she said. "Look up into my eyes while you kiss my butt, darling.
Oh, yes, just like that. That's good. Nice, sweet kisses, all over my ass.
Demonstrate your humility to your mistress. Good, tender kisses on my bottom,"
she chirped.

"Put your tongue in it now, lover," Shannon said. "That's right. Push your
tongue in my ass. Oh, God. That's right. Lick my asshole. Ohhh, yes! I love
your tongue in my ass. I think I like your tongue in my ass even more than I
like it in my pussy," she giggled. "Want to know why, slave? Do you?" She
hooked her feet over his shoulders, possessively pulling his body against her
backside.

"Yes, Mistress Shannon," he replied, his tongue between her buttocks.

"Oh, fuck!" she shouted, enthusiastically. "Say it again, with your tongue in
me like that. Do it."

"Mistress Shannon," Jon said, the words muffled within her bottom.

"Ohhh, yeah," she sighed. "Your tongue feels so great in my ass. It feels
great in my pussy, too, maybe even better. I think I like it better in my ass
because ... it's my ass!" she laughed. "You're licking my asshole, because you
have to. As much as I want, as long as I want, exactly the way I want. I think
that's why I like it more. Say it again."

"Mistress Shannon," he said, obediently.

"Oh, God, yes! I wonder if you can lick me a bit deeper. Try. Put your tongue
in me deeper. Ummm. Good. Deeper," she said, reaching her hand to the back of
his head, pushing it roughly against her bottom. "Oh, God! Ohhhh!" she
enthused.

"More," she told him. "Put your tongue in my asshole. Put it in further.
Submit to me. Demonstrate your subservience. Lick your mistress. Oh, yes."

"I think you can lick me deeper," she said, pulling his face away, looking
down into his eyes. "Let me teach you what I want, and then next time you will
be able to do it," she smirked, knowing that he had absolutely no choice.

Shannon stood up from the chair, and moved Jon into position in front of it.
"Sit down on the floor, there," she pointed. "I know it hurts you to sit, but
do it anyway. It's what I want," she said, matter-of-factly.

Once he was seated on the floor, she tilted his head back, so his head was
lying flat on the seat of the chair. She moved her face down, close to his,
and she said "I'm having so much fun, darling. I do hope you are, too. If not,
though, I guess it's just too fucking bad," she pouted. "Now put your tongue
out. Do it."

She lowered herself on to his face, on the chair, using her hands to spread
her buttocks apart, putting all of her weight on his face.

"Oh, God!" she said as his tongue went back into her bottom. "That's right.
Lick my ass," she said, grinding her hips roughly on his face. "Put your
tongue in me, and lick your mistress," she said.

"Oooh, yes!" Shannon said, bucking herself on him. "That's good, darling. So
good. Lick my ass," she sighed, curling the toes of one of her feet around his
testicles. "See? I knew that you could get your tongue in me deeper."

He began to grapple weakly at her buttocks, her hips, completely unable to
breathe beneath her, his face enveloped in her bottom. "Say it," she said,
smacking at his hands.

"Mistress Shannon," came his muffled reply, from deep within her.

"Mmmmm," she sighed, climaxing on his face, collapsing exhaustedly back in the
chair, as he passed out beneath her. "Fuck, I love that," she moaned.

"Yeah," she mused to her unconscious husband, as she climbed off him. "We're
going to be doing an awful lot of that, darling."