A Toe Out of Line

The room burst out in laughter.

As I tilted my head upward, laughing with the others, I noticed how brightly the room was lit up. It was a stark contrast to how dark it was outside.

I was at a house party with my wife, Alexis, in the living room of quite an expansive house that belonged to one of her good friends since high school. Probably her best friend really. Her name was Cynthia, and unfortunately for me I had never been a big fan of her. I had actually attended high school with both my wife and Cynthia, although I never really interacted with either of them until I formally met my wife many years later (a bit after college) and started dating her.

Cynthia was the type of preppy, haughty girl that knew she could get away with treating others badly because of how beautiful and popular she was. That was my opinion of her anyway. And the truth was that she was quite attractive, she was a slim 5'9" blonde with hair that seemed to always be perfectly curled. She always had a nice slim figure, despite not exercising much. I had heard a rumor that her mother had actually run in the Olympics for the marathon way back when (mind you she didn't medal, but qualifying for the Olympics is in itself quite a feat), so she probably got her good genes from her. She did swim however, and that was how she met my wife Alexis, although she wasn't nearly as competitive as Alexis was.

Ah Alexis...my beautiful wife. I looked over to her, and saw her face lit up with laughter at the last joke I had made. She always liked my jokes. Alexis wasn't quite as tall as Cynthia but she still stood fairly tall for a woman at 5'6" and had a much more toned and sexy body. Alexis was quite the athlete in high school and in college as well. She wasn't the star of her college team like in high school, but swimming for a division 1 team is still something to be proud of. As I looked down her body I took note of how hot she looked tonight.

She was wearing a tight black dress, with matching black pumps. Her round but slightly muscular breasts stood out quite a bit as her dressed hugged her flat toned stomach. Her dress was sleeveless, exposing her arms and amazing swimmer's triceps. I know a woman's arms aren't always what come to mind when people think "sexy," but a pair of strong, fit arms really turn my dials. My wife doesn't swim competitively anymore, but she still swims almost daily, keeping her body toned and in amazing shape.

I was more of a runner myself, and I actually hit the gym around 3 times a week, so I wasn't doing too badly myself. But still, I was always unsure of if I could actually beat my wife if it came to a wrestling match...

Anyhow, as the party continued and I snapped back from my reverie. I noticed my wife looking back at me. I had unconsciously been staring at her breasts the whole time! She gave me naughty smile, and then raised her left eyebrow sexily. It was almost as if she was saying "I know what you want to do to these". I returned her gesture with a faint hearted smile myself, and then turned my head, trying to pay attention to what everyone else in the group was talking about.

The conversation had turned to politics, and lo and behold, the person who was going on a rant right now was the ivy-bred, poly sci major, Cynthia. I didn't catch everything she said, but as I listened in all I heard was

"...Obama sucks. He's been SUCH a failure in office. Sometimes I just wish I could go up to him and slap some sense into his head."

What? I have never been particularly interested in politics, but I did keep up with the news when I could. I knew that Obama had recently received a bit of criticism recently, but a failure? The man may make decisions that some people disagree with, but what president hasn't? The overly harsh criticism towards the leader of our entire country, whom WE voted into office (TWICE mind you), was getting on my nerves.

Before I continue, I should first explain that perhaps my biggest pet peeve is when people overstate and exaggerate things, often to the effect of being overly dramatic. It frustrates me to no end when people misuse the word "literally" simply for emphasis for example. The English language is already so limiting in what it allows us to communicate to one another, why misuse those words even more? Anyway, that's a topic for another time. The point is, as soon as I heard her say that overly emphatic statement, I immediately became annoyed and quite irked.

Who was she to criticize a man who has worked tirelessly for the good of our country and of the other nations in the world that depend on us? And to say she wants to "slap" sense into him? Seriously? I was getting quite worked up in my head as I processed what she said and how disrespectful she was being, regardless of if her insults were merited.

"Well," I started, "I know some of the things he does may not seem like the right thing to do. But he's doing the best job he can. Do you really think you should insult him like that? Do you think YOU could do a better job?"

As I finished my statement I replayed the pointed "YOU" I made just a few seconds earlier in my head, and quickly realized how attacking my tone must have sounded. I was attacking her with my words though, I was quite mad, but it hadn't been my intention to let my emotions show in my speech.

My heart sank with that lurching sadness as I looked around at the others in the circle in the living room, and as one by one, each face looked at me with both stupor and confusion. I didn't dare turn my head to look at my wife. I knew she would be furious so I avoided making eye contact with her.

After a somewhat lengthy silence passed over the room, one that ironically made me feel like the entire room was screaming "did he JUST say that?" Cynthia responded.

"Well, I didn't even know you had an idea of what foreign policy meant. Why don't you tell me more about why you think Obama is doing a great job as our president," she said condescendingly, giving me a fake smile that really said "Get ready to be destroyed."

"I don't really know much about politics, I admit it. But all I was trying to do was say maybe you should go a bit easier on him. I just wanted to give another opinion since you seemed to be the only one talking." I responded, quickly realizing that I had only dug myself into a deeper hole. My eyes roled upward and I closed them for a brief second as I realized how terribly this was going. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cynthia looking over in the direction I knew my wife was. I was still gravely fearful of my wife's response to my gauche jab at her best friend, in her best friend's own living room.

My heart was pounding, and before Cynthia could respond, I quickly tried to cut my losses.

"You know what, you're right," I said, holding my hands up in surrender, "I don't really know what I'm talking about." I gave a nervous chuckle. "I'll just go over there and get some more snacks," I said as I stood up and walked over to Cynthia's kitchen, which I had just pointed to. As I did so, not a single person sitting in the group took their eyes off me. I continued to walk away with my back turned to them and I could almost feel their eyes staring at my back, as if laser beams were being drilled in, but I fought the urge to look back and check.

When I got to Cynthia's kitchen, I looked around at the array of snacks she had out. There were tortilla chips with salsa, some carrots, a wide variety of fruits, and another dish I couldn't identify. As I slowly picked out some grapes and an orange slice, I replayed the recent events in my head, basking in regret. All of a sudden I felt someone brush up from behind me and I instantly realized the sharp rapid clicks of high heels on the hardwood just then must have been my wife.

"Outside. Next to the car. Now," was all she whispered into my ear, as she continued to walk past me and out of the kitchen. Her stern voice had somehow transformed all of the feelings of regret I had into a nervous fear, and I immediately threw the food I had just gotten into the trash and discreetly let myself out the front door.

I stood next to our black Lexus (Alexis was quite the successful corporate executive) on the side of the street opposite Cynthia's house (almost like mansion really), and luckily there were no houses on that side of the street, allowing me to stand behind the car and be out of any passerby's vision, except for my head of course. I waited for about 5 minutes, although as most people can relate, 5 minutes of standing around waiting for something you are very nervous to face can feel like an eternity. But after 5 minutes of gut wrenching and heart pounding, wondering what my wife had in store for me after what I had done, I heard the click-clack of my wife's heels against the pavement.

As the sound of her shoes against the asphalt grew louder and louder I felt my heart beating louder and louder as well, almost as if in sync. Until finally my wife came walked around our Lexus to come face to face with me.

"Loo-" I started, but before I could finish even that first syllable I found myself stopped midway, my left hand instinctively raised up to my left cheek. As I processed the fact that my head was tilted to the right in recoil and what had just happened, I raised my face back up.

"SMACK"

This time because of the silence, and partly because I wasn't taken completely by surprise, I could hear the sound of her palm against my cheek reverberate through my ears. It felt so loud that the entire street might have heard the impact of her slap on my cheek. My right hand now instinctively grasped my right cheek, as my head was tilted to the left this time, my body in shock.

Now don't get me wrong, my wife has slapped me MANY times in the past. We have a bit of a femdom marriage, you see. But I had always seen most of her slaps coming, and they had never been so painful. Or was it because I wasn't prepared that they felt so painful? Nevertheless I could still feel the burning sensation of the sting on the left side of my cheek as my mind preoccupied itself with the more recent injury on my right.

I took a bit more time to readjust myself this time, rubbing my hands against my cheeks in an attempt to soothe myself, but as I did, my wife's right index finger pointed directly down. In a voice as flat as her finger was straight, she ordered, "On your knees."

She didn't say "now," but in my head I somehow finished it for her, as I bent my knees and lowered myself in submission. I continued trying to soothe my pain with light rubbing. However, after only a brief second, I felt her fingers grasp my hair roughly and tilt my head backward, so that I was looking up at her. "Oh no, not again," was my only thought as I felt the pain shoot up on the top of my head momentarily, where she had pulled my hair back along with my head. Luckily the pain was quite brief, and not nearly as bad as the two slaps I had just received.

But as my head was tilted up I made eye contact with my wife for the first time since my comments (when she first came up to the Lexus I had been looking down), and I could see in her face all the intense emotions she had. Her eyes looked penetrating, with a look of contained, flat anger, almost saying "I can't believe you just did that." I felt a bit of relief, knowing my wife was not blazing in anger but was rather more annoyed. But nonetheless her eyes told me that I was going to be taught a lesson. That I was going to be punished for my bad behavior.

My eyes that were wide with fear initially had turned into eyes of amaze and wonder, as I studied the nooks and crannies of her face. Her nose, big and perfectly shaped, that would be looking down on me condescendingly soon, and her amazing jawline, narrow and an emblem of her fitness. As I looked up and thought about how much I adored my wife, my penis decided to show how much it appreciated her too. I noticed my wife's eyes flicker down ever so briefly, and I knew that she had noticed it too.

But just as soon as that happened I saw her swing her left hand back (her right hand still holding my hair), and as I briefly prepared myself for the pain that was about to come, she angrily ordered "move your hands." I quickly obeyed, and just as quickly felt her wrath.

My wife hadn't loosened her grip on my hair, so as her hand made contact with my cheek I could feel my entire face wrench in pain. My cheek twisted to the left, in a recoiling fashion that didn't extend to the upper part of my head that was being gripped tightly in place. I felt the top of my head shoot out in pain as my hair was pulled, and for a few seconds I kept my eyes shut in pain.

When I finally opened my eyes I could see my wife still looking directly at me, her eyes glittering with a kind of childlike excitement. She often had this look when she punished me, I guess it was a sign that she was enjoying herself, which in turn made me all the happier to receive her punishment and be subservient to her.

"When I tell you to get on your knees, that means you kneel in front of me with your back straight and your hands at your sides," she said, clearly very annoyed. When Alexis had initially trained me she explained this to me, probably once, so she had every right to be unhappy with my performance. However, in the past I had never had a reason to have my hands anywhere but my sides when kneeling, so I had completely forgotten the protocol even existed.

I lowered my hands completely to my sides and kept them perfectly straight as I tried to straighten my already straight back, struggling against the tight grip she still held on my hair to perfect my posture. I lowered my eyes as well, and quietly and almost quaveringly said "Yes Mistress. I'm sorry Mistress," addressing her with the term of respect that was expected in the situation.

"No." she said flatly, her anger starting to show.

I lifted my eyes to look back up at her, fearful of what was coming next.

"I don't think you have the privilege to speak anymore," she said calmly, and then tilted my head downward with that painfully tight grip she had on my hair, until my chin was digging into my chest.

"You lost that privilege, after what you did back there. Talking like that to Cynthia, in HER house, at HER party? You embarrassed me in there. You should be ashamed of yourself for what you did. No, you WILL be ashamed of yourself." She had raised her voice at this point, and the growing fear in my heart exploded as I knew my wife was starting to vent out all of her anger. But despite what my brain was thinking, my balls seemed to get a bit excited, in anticipation of what they and I both knew was soon to follow.

"I know you think you're ashamed right now, but this time I'm going to make sure you never forget this lesson. You always do this. You never respect my friends. I know you think you do, but we both know how much you've always disliked Cynthia, and this isn't the first time it's become embarrassingly obvious."

What? This isn't the first time? She made it sound like something like this had happened many times in the past. I genuinely didn't remember anything like that at all. But perhaps, since this was the first time it was in a large public setting, after looking at the expressions on the many other people's faces present, it was also the first time I actually became of aware of how disrespectful I was being. I wanted to say something, to let my wife know that I didn't intend for any of this and I was genuinely sorry. But I knew better than to make even an attempt to speak. This situation had gone beyond that now.

"I won't have you being disrespectful to my friends. Especially not in front of others and most of all especially not in front of me. You need to realize that your bad behavior reflects poorly on me. You humiliated me. And I think maybe you need to be shown how that feels, and to be reminded of your place." She said, almost as if she was pondering it.

I immediately lifted my head back up, against the force of her hand which had been gripping me so tightly, but for some reason, I felt almost no resistance as she allowed me to look back up at her. I opened my eyes wide, pleading with her non-verbally as I tried to show her with my frowning and sad face how sorry I was. I mouthed the word "sorry" in my desperation, but was quickly met with her head smashing my head down and into my chest, forcing me to flex my abdominals in an attempt to keep my body straight.

"NO!" She said again forcefully, clearly getting angry as she always did when she had to tell me to do something more than once.

"Not only have you lost the right to speak like a human. You have lost the right to communicate as a human being. Because clearly when you are given that privilege you just end up embarrassing yourself. But more importantly," she paused, "you embarrass ME."

I wanted to hang my head in shame, but my head was already being held down forcefully by wife's surprisingly strong arms. I knew I had let my wife down, and I was prepared to face the consequences of my actions.

"You need to be reminded of your place. That you're my BITCH. My property. And its my responsibility to train you so that you don't reflect poorly on me in public. So," she said, slowing down the pace of her words, "I think for the rest of the night you're going to show me you know where your place is. No talking. No mouthing of words. Just barking. And whimpering, and begging, and groveling, like the bitch that you are. Do you understand boy?"

Alexis, with her hand still tightly grasping my hair, tilted my head up and then back down a few times, forcefully nodding for me. When she let go, I immediately dropped down to my hands and knees. I lowered my head down to her beautiful feet, perfectly encased by her black pumps, and then kissed each of them, a gesture of submission. When my lips made contact with her skin I made sure to savor each kiss, feeling the slight protrusions coming up from her veins, and lightly flicking my tongue along her skin.

After I had planted the two reverent kisses on her feet, not having made a sound other than smooching noise of my lips against the skin of her feet, I brought my head back up. I raised my head up to look at her, and as I mentally prepared myself I took note of how beautiful my wife looked. Her hands folded across her chest, just under breasts, and showing off her amazing biceps. It was no wonder to me anymore how her slaps and inflicted so much pain. Her posture was perfectly straight and her head tilted down. Looking down her nose at me, her subservient husband who literally worshipped her, and whom she owned.

All of my thoughts (and actions) had made my penis rock hard, and I was quickly reminded of this when I felt that uncomfortable choking feeling in my groin, a feeling that all men have felt at some point in their lives. But sadly, I knew that taking my hands off the ground to unbutton my pants was out of the question.

I heard a car pass by, and I realized that on my hands and knees the Lexus blocked any vision of me (unless someone got on the ground and looked underneath to see my hands and knees on the ground). But what every passerby, or even someone from the party looking out from Cynthia's balcony could see, was Alexis. Standing up tall and Looking down, with her arms folded. But at what? Something that had displeased her. That was all I had become. An object that had displeased my wife. And now I was being punished for it.

What happened next was something I would never forget. I barked on my hands knees for my wife.

"Arf! Arf! Ruff, ruff!," I barked, using the two barking sounds I knew how to make best.

Still looking up at her, I noticed my wife's face not change in slightest. But then she moved her lips.