Step 2 -- Making Him Beg
My plan was always to guide him step by step, every step of the way, thinking this was all what he really wanted. I read the various stories about slapping a man in a chastity belt, taking black mail pictures, and by the end of the evening whipping him until he breaks, leading to happily ever after. Maybe that has worked for some, but I wanted to be sure. I was willing to be patient and make him mine step by step, making him beg to become my slave, and eventually giving in and allowing him to serve me.
After our big weekend, I upped the pressure on him. I kept dressing as sexy as I thought I could get away with and did all the little things that I knew turned my husband on, but at night in our bedroom I was as distant as I could manage.
After ten days I let me have sex with me, with him on top, but I presented as limp and very underwhelmed. In truth it wasn't bad at all, and I had to fight to not have an orgasm, but I wanted the contrast as stark as possible between this lackluster sex and the fun we had had when he was my Toy.
I monitored his computer and phone usage as much as I could, and even managed another couple rounds of adjusting his porn a little bit and included some more femdom searches into his internet ecosystem.
It was a Thursday, over two and a half weeks after our weekend, and we were both reading in the living room when he nonchalantly asked about where I had put the collar.
"You mean your slave collar?"
"Yeah, I was thinking about it the other day and wondered."
"Like I said, if you want to be my sex toy again you will have to wait for me to order it around your neck, or you need to get down on your knees and beg. Being in charge is work and doing it meant something to me. I want to make sure you are serious before doing it again."
Silence fell and we both went back to reading. Well, maybe he was reading, I was so excited I could hardly breathe. After a few minutes he got up and left the room. I was crushed. I thought that was the moment, and I was wrong. I struggled to read for another ten minutes or so, but it was no use, so I got up to go and get ready for bed.
There he was, naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed, waiting for me. I walked up to him, standing over him, deliberately crowding him. "Yes?"
"Jessica, could we please have another weekend, like we did? I loved being your sex toy. Please?"
I stepped even closer to him and looked up, seemingly thinking it over. I wanted to hide the joyous smile that filled my face. I couldn't stop smiling for several minutes and had to clench my jaws to stop the burst of happy laughter that wanted out. Once I figured I could control my voice I stepped away from him.
"I have been thinking about it. I might be a bit rougher with my toy this time, since I know you like it. Are you sure you want to?"
"Yes please."
"Kiss my feet and beg to be my slave and I will consider it."
"Please let me be your slave, please."
Suddenly my husband was kneeling, naked, and kissing my shoes, begging to be my sex toy this very weekend. If a year ago you had said a scene like that was one of the happiest of my life, I would have known you were insane.
"I expect you to be naked and kneeling when I come home tomorrow. No excuses."
He had forgotten there was a retirement party at his work tomorrow, even though he had read the email invitation, and if I moved a couple meetings around, I could easily get home before him. The weekend was going to start out badly for him.
I was turned on all Friday and was so distracted that two different coworkers asked me if everything was OK. I got home even earlier than I thought I would, well before he normally made it home. I was able to monitor his progress home because of the app I had installed on his phone, and I masturbated with a vibrator thinking about the upcoming weekend. He made it home only a few minutes late, he must have stopped by the retirement party very briefly. I was a bit impressed but determined not to let him know that.
"No excuses," I said as he hurried into the bedroom, already starting to shed his clothes. "This weekend is cancelled."
"Please honey, I am so sorry, John had a retirement ..." my glare stopping him mid-apology. "What can I do?"