In The Cupboard Ch 05

She closed the door behind Alexander, and her thoughts turned immediately to her husband - her slave - trapped in the darkness of her bedroom cupboard where she'd put him into restraints several hours ago.

She went to the kitchen, ran a glass of water from the tap, then turned and carried it, beads of water dripping down the side of the glass as she walked down the hallway. She opened the right-hand door of the cupboard first, revealing her clothes, all pushed to one side along the railing. Then she opened the other door to find her husband, strapped to the wall, his nipples erect, his cock, half standing to attention, obviously reddened from friction, his hands by his sides, his fingers opening and closing against his palms.

With one hand she dragged the strap on the gag out of its buckle, loosened it, then took hold of the gag and slipped it out of his mouth. She held the glass to his lips, and tilted it upwards for him to take a sip. He drank deeply, consuming all the water as she up-ended the glass.

"My slave," she said lovingly. Her eyes flicked to the back of the door on her left and noted two streaks of pearlescent fluid suspended in animation as they attempted to make a downward descent. "Did you enjoy yourself?" she enquired.

"Yes," he said immediately, then, "No. I. ah. I don't know," he continued.

She turned, placed the glass of water on a little side table, then dragged her red armchair over and positioned it in front of the cupboard. She seated herself in it, then spread her legs wide and over to the sides then leaned back, exposing her gaping hole, putting her night's efforts entirely on display.

He couldn't help it. His eyes wandered from her face, over her belly and down to her cunt, where he noted the delicate, hairless skin was aggravated, swollen, and still obviously wet. Where her cunt was normally a neat size, now it was stretched, distended and had the distinct look of having been used. He felt confused. He was unsure if he liked what he saw or whether he loathed it.

She bent sideways out of the chair to pick up her black stilettos from where they lay in the cupboard. She unzipped the straps at the back, then closed her legs as she bent forward to slip her feet into each. She closed the zips, then sat back and purposefully crossed her legs.

"What do you mean 'yes, no, I don't know'?" she said casually. She swivelled on her hip to tilt herself in the chair and draped one arm over the back, bending it to lean her temple against the palm of her hand. "What do you think of what you've just seen?"

"I... I... oh, Mistress, I do not like to see you fuck another man," he finally whined.

"And yet, I see you enjoyed yourself somehow," she said, motioning to the cum on the back of the cupboard door. He slumped visibly in his restraints.

"Yes," he stated pathetically.

"What did you imagine, while I was fucking my lover?" she asked.

"I imagined I was the one fucking you - not your lover," he replied without hesitation. "I imagined, that you were entirely mine, that you needed no other, and that I satisfied you completely."

"Ah!" she said, smiling. "But you do satisfy me completely. That is why you wear my ring," she said, indicating the thick gold band that encircled the ring finger on his left hand.

"Then why do you need others?" he whined?

"Because," she said, jutting her chin out at him in that defiant pose he so loved, so adored. "Because I wish you to never forget that I am the Mistress, and you are the slave, and marriage or not, that is the way it will always be. Think of it," she said, "as being vital to your training. Another method through which I intend to maintain your submission."

He hung his head. He realised, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had held a vain hope that he could dissuade her from putting him through such an ordeal again. He'd hoped that eventually he would be all she'd ever need. He became acutely aware that nothing could be further from the truth.

"Come, come," she said to him cheerily. "Don't mope. I hate it when you mope." She stood, pushed the armchair back a little, then stepped forward into the cupboard and leaned the length of her body against his. She placed her left check against his right and rubbed her skin across his stubble ever so gently. She drew in a breath as she did, savouring his scent, his sweet essence, and her heart filled with love for him. She leaned back, pressed her lips to his and slipped her tongue into his warm, welcoming mouth. Her tongue connected with his, and he returned her kiss passionately, longingly, searchingly. She knew he would be even more devoted to her now.

She stepped back and unbuckled the strap around his neck. He obediently kept his hands by his side - she had trained him out of immediately rubbing his skin for relief when she released him, and she observed with approval that he did not even attempt to move his arms once his neck was freed. She bent, unbuckled the straps around his ankles, paused to place a gentle kiss on his spent penis, then backed out of the cupboard.

"Come," she said, indicating the chair. "A reward." He knew exactly what she had in mind. He stepped out of the cupboard, placed his hands along the top of the back of the armchair, and bent forward, spreading his feet, angling his arse out. She turned, opened a drawer in the closet and took out a double-flex leather paddle. She slapped it gently against her left palm, and watched as he clenched his butt-cheeks together in anticipation.

With her left hand she smoothed each cheek, running her palm over the smooth white flesh.

"Relax," she said, and instantly he released the tensed muscles. She raised the paddle with her right hand, then brought it down, smack, across both cheeks. "What do you say?" she asked.

"Thank you Mistress," he replied, gratitude overflowing in his voice. She raised her hand and brought the paddle down again, first on his right butt cheek, then on his left. She repeated the strikes again and again while he remained entirely silent, enjoying watching as the colour on his arse cheeks rose to a gentle pink, then transformed to an angry red. Finally, after twenty or thirty good strong strokes, she stopped. She smoothed his butt-cheeks tenderly, noting how far he had progressed in his acceptance of pain since she'd first met him and agreed he would be her slave.

"Tell me," she said softly.

"Thank you Mistress. Thank you so much."

Later that night, as he lay on his stomach across their bed, she lightly massaged aloe vera gel into his buttocks. It would take the sting out enough for him to be able to sit at work tomorrow.

"I love you, wife," he said quietly.

"I know," she replied. "And I love you too."

Many thanks to the anonymous reader who suggested this story thread – I've enjoyed exploring these two characters in this way. Writing challenges are always welcome! SP.