I’ve been married to Laura for 22 years. 

I’m sure I rebelled against the rigid, authoritarian  attitude of my father.  The

word sexism did not exist when he used to give my mother the back of his hand. But sexism it was. I could not construct myself according to this male model and I became nearly its opposite.  I was a gentle, kind, open-minded male in the face of women.. Where he was intolerant, abrupt and even violent, I was kind, patient and understanding.  This might have never changed had my wife not looked at me one day, one day not long after the birth of our first son, and said to me, “Why don’t you ever just tell me what to do?  Why are you always asking?”  My first response to this mentally was that her birth process had warped her mind.  There was no way I could respond properly at the time;  the statement was too powerful and stunning.  But I felt welling up inside me a response that would take some time before it became clarified.. 

I think Danny was two years old, when he was sent for a weekend to his grandmother’s

to give us young parents respite.  I was alone with Laura for the weekend.

I’d had wanted to properly respond many, many times to the provocative words that Laura had said two years before. But I could never bring myself to respond.  Perhaps because we were at last alone and had drunk two bottles of wine I said to her, “Were you completely crazy when you said to me after Danny was born that you wanted me to just tell you what to do?” Laura said, somewhat annoyed, “A woman is a woman, Victor!  Your father was a bastard, but he kept things in order at home didn’t he?”  Laura

knew quite well how rough my father had been and how much it had

disgusted me, so I was really surprised at this sudden endorsement of his

methods.

“So. What? You want me to be like my fucking father?” 

Laura laughed.  “You’ll never be like your father.  Thank god!  But you might just

make me feel more secure as a woman, if you’d be clearer about how things

should be between us.” 

My cock was hard and I knew exactly what she meant but I had to ask a cowardly question. “So you meant the statement that you made after the birth of our son literally?” 

Laura gave me a look then that, in retrospect, I see was profoundly submissive,

“I meant every word of it.  Sometimes a girl likes to just be told.”

It was frightening in a way how deeply Laura’s words tapped into instinct.  My

own fantasies preserved, in a way, the 19th century, sexist attitudes of my father  But, here, I was not forcing anyone to do things she did not want to do.  Laura had asked for it. And she began to get it.

I began to be more and more directive with Laura, within the constraints of

family life with a young child.  I began to assert fuck-rights with her that I

never would have imagined.  Slowly, I began taking her, as pleased me.

I would fuck her in the car or in the back yard on the grass or in the bathroom.

I no longer observed propriety and had no concern for permission.  Laura

responded to my audacity with incredible passion.  She once whispered in my

ear, “Use me! Just use me!”  Once, when I looked surprised at her obscene words she kissed me and said, “I’m yours Victor.  I never asked for kid gloves!”

The great irony and beauty of it is that Laura was always meant to be a

slave and I. a Master.  By the time my son was 16 years old Laura was

nearly rightless in the invisible terms of our “middle class” marriage in

a small town. When she spoke to me she spoke to me in ways that I deigned.  When

she dressed and accoutered it was by my direction.  When she moved,

she moved exactly as pleased me and only me.  Most importantly when

we fucked, it was as, when and how I chose.

It was fortune that my son went across the continent to school when

he was 18. It may not have been so fortunate for Laura.  I was now 46 years

old and Laura was  41.  Because of living in a small community where everyone knew everyone, there were real limits on the extent to which I could exercise my control

over Laura.  While Danny was home, too, everything was kept very quiet and covert.  Laura was very subservient to me, but it was deeply

hidden.  I did choose, for instance, every single garment she ever wore for

sixteen years, but to the outside world she didn’t stand out.  Nearly every move

she made during the day was also my doing, but there was nothing

that would, with a surprise visit by our son or neighbor, be obvious to

anyone.  We were extremely discreet. 

We greeted Danny’s home-leaving with great anticipation.  Everything was going

to change dramatically.

One month after Danny left home we sold our small-town house

and moved to a beautiful rural house about 40 miles from Chicago.

My business consulting work was now arranged so that I did 80%

of my work electronically or from home by phone.  Things had worked

out financially for us and Laura could continue not to work unless I

wanted her to.  We moved now to a huge country house which

we beautifully appointed.  It was on a rural route about a mile from

a main road.  We both were tremendously excited at the freedom

that this place would give us.  Both of us were now, for practical

purposes, going to be very anonymous, where before we had lived

in the fishbowl of a small town.

Laura had been my “housecunt” for 16 years, never working and

taking care of the house and our child.  Now she would be my

housecunt and slave, completely. 

Laura’s slavery was to become shockingly complete.  But this had been

evolving to this clear and obvious goal for over 16 years.  Part of our

communication, as we began to develop our mutually satisfactory relationship,

was through stories and poetry. I will admit that when Laura first began to

write her intimate thoughts to me it was a jolt.  I had fantasies too that were

very, very elaborate, but I couldn’t believe that there was any woman

who’s mentality could match mine.  It has been the great pleasure of my life

that I married a woman, completely without knowing it beforehand, who fit my

mindset to a tee.  Here was one of Laura’s early poem-notes to me:

Crush this bitch under your boot, MAN

I will give you everything I CAN

This girly girl  is your splay HOLE

Ram it with your manliness and play your ROLE

Laura was a well-educated, independent-minded, “liberated” woman--- or so

I had thought.  She managed to get a Masters in Linguistics by the time Danny

was born..  Nearly nothing in our love life would have prepared me for the

ferociousness of her need to surrender, but then again, she

never would have imagined either, that I would be so committed to being her

Master.  Poetry like this created in me a roaring cauldron of emotion and

desire.  Her passion for submission stoked incredibly my own need to rule.

We inspired each other in our roles as though we had selected each other for just this,

when, of course, this was not at all the case.

“Your poetry is so fierce, cunt,” I said holding her in my arms after a

marathon bout of using her body. In my passion I had abused her tit nipples

harshly and had put  clamps on her vaginal lips, a gag in her mouth to

muffle the noise.   Having removed the clamps and mouth gag I had taken her in my arms.  I said, “Isn’t part of this just fantasy? Do you really want me to be so rough on you? I mean, in an emotional sense.”

“Victor, you know how strong I am at heart.   I have an amazing will.  And I feel that this is a barrier for me.  A passive girl might just want to be guided softly, but I am aggressive at heart.  I know what I need.  I need you to really break my will in a way.  I know it seems radical, but when you hurt me and take a extremely demanding attitude toward me, I feel the passion just explode in me.  I need you to be a real bastard and not let up.  I feel

that’s the only way I’ll break through to my core.  I know it sounds so crude

and brutish, but you have to be strong Victor.  I really need to be COMPLETELY

Mastered.”

Laura stands 5’4.”  She weighs and weighed about 160 lbs.  She has always been chunky, but with very nice curves and good tits.  She has attractive brown eyes and curly brown

hair.  She is not attractive in a traditional sense, but she has a personality and

verve that had men had always been drawn to.   Before the change in our relationship

took place, I had known Laura as a take-charge, quite aggressive female.  I learned,

as we exchanged our intimate notes and poetry, that this aggressiveness was

more than unconsciously intended to challenge males to dominate her.  It had not

occurred to me before but Laura did not show the same pushiness with women.  In

note after note Laura poured out her fantasies and views, and it did not take long

before she drove a stake in the notion that she wanted to be take-charge in our

relationship.  She wrote with passionate frankness and spared no obscenity to

make crystal clear not only her desire for dominance, but her commitment to

abject servitude before the man who would be her Master:

Don’t softball this bitch

Or I’ll spit at you and laugh.

Use the back of your hand or a switch

I need to feel your wrath

If you spare the rod, you’ll spoil this cunt---

so hurt me and teach me what I want