Author's Note: Dara is a single mother of a college sophomore working as a nurse and running a dairy farm that has been in the family for more than 100 years. After being burned by a cheating husband, Dara vowed never to be involved with any man who isn't submissive to her, and in the first six parts of "Prize Bull," she seduced and trained Travis, 19 years old, handsome, and naturally submissive. As their sexual relationship grew, so did their emotional attachment, after a semester a college, Travis returned, entering into a permanent relationship with Dara that appears conventional—except for their age gap—only from the outside. (Note: There are more chapters coming. Sorry it has been such a long break.)
-CarliePlum
*****
My wedding to Travis couldn't have been any more different than my one to Randy, more than 18 years before. I had been the blushing bride in white, the center of a big church wedding where I promised to love, honor, and obey the man who fathered my son Tim just a month after we were married. Randy had almost a stranger to me. We'd wed after a whirlwind courtship, tying the knot a month to the day after our first date. By contrast, I'd known Travis, 19 years old to my 37, since he and my son Tim had been in school together and playing on the same basketball team. But at 18, Tim had gone off to college, making it clear that he had his own career plans and would never take over Hollydale Farms, while Travis had taken a year to work for me on the dairy farm that had been in my family for more than 100 years, a farm I planned to keep in the farm for another 100, if not more.
In all honesty, I'd used Travis to get over Randy leaving me for another woman and trying to steal the farm, but our relationship had slowly turned from employer-employee to something much more complicated. As we said our short vows at the courthouse, the only witness my lawyer Brett Farley, I didn't promise to obey. We left that word out altogether, but according to the terms of our private marital agreement, it was Travis who had promised to obey me, in ways that even Randy would never have expected, red-blooded American boy that he was. I remembered being scared of the wedding night, the experience my mom had hurriedly try to prepare me for, 18 and still a virgin, just minutes before I put on my veil and walked down the aisle. While Travis and I were still breaking new ground in our dominant-submissive relationship we were neither one of us virgins, in more ways than one.
We said goodbye to Brett on the courthouse steps and headed back to the farm in our respective vehicles. I knew Travis would be sending his parents an email with the news. They'd been unhappy when he put off college for a year to work for me, and he'd kept the fact that he was studying ag science from them. Even though he was staying in college, I doubt their reaction would be either warm or calm. Tim had been, although a bit shocked, so completely pleased at the chance that he wouldn't have to feel any more guilt at the farm turning to a nature preserve that he was positively effusive about my marrying a man his own age and (hopefully) presenting him with some (much) younger siblings.
"Why don't you go on down to the barn and see what Fred and Bob need help with. We're taking delivery on another 12 cows tomorrow, so I imagine there is plenty to do," I told Travis when we pulled up to the farmhouse. The ceremony had been so casual, there wasn't any need for him to change before heading to work. I went into the house and started on dinner, prepping some green beans I planned on steaming with garlic and basil and putting chicken breasts in to marinate in white wine before I started chopping up some sweet potatoes I was going to slow roast with garlic. Although both my gynecologist Dr. Williams and my reproductive endocrinologist Dr. Starr agreed I was in top shape, fertility-wise, Dr. Starr said it wouldn't hurt to eat a little healthier and make sure I was getting all my vitamins.
Travis came up from the barn about 20 minutes before dinner, telling me he needed a shower before stripping off his clothes and putting them in the laundry room. "Did you want me to wash myself or..." His voice trailed off. I had made bathing him, cleaning him inside and out, and shaving him in places most men left hairy part of our sex play.
"I'll come up and supervise." Travis' butt muscles were tight, flexing with each step as he moved. I enjoyed the view as I followed him up the stairs. It was a view I would see often since he wasn't permitted to wear any clothing in the house unless we had visitors. I sat on the toilet as Travis climbed into the clawfoot tub for his shower. "Let me know when you are ready to wash your penis. I don't want things to get out of hand, and I know you don't always have the control you should." Travis' cheeks colored a deep red, a sure sign he was embarrassed. "What's the problem, Travis? It's not as if I haven't washed you before."
"It's not that, Miss Dara. It's just that, just that I have something to tell you that I'm not very proud of." I waited for him to continue. "I know you said I could come one time before the wedding, and I did when I showered last night. But then I thought about seeing you at the courthouse, and I was afraid I would get excited and people would notice, so I did it again this morning."
"I see." My voice was cold. "Travis, do you know why I told you only to come once? It takes a certain amount of time for a boy's body to replenish his semen after he comes, about 48 hours for peak fertility. So when you decided to disobey me, you restarted the clock."
"I'm sorry Miss Dara, I just didn't..."
"I wasn't finished. It just so happens that had you not taken matters into your own hands, your peak fertility would have coincided with mine. So, by sparing yourself a little embarrassment—and ignoring my instructions—you've jeopardized one of your primary functions."
His "oh" was very quiet.
"Finish cleaning up. After dinner we'll deal with the matter of your disobedience."
"Yes, Miss Dara," Travis answered, hanging his head.
Dinner was a silent affair, and there was no conversation as I sat at my desk doing paperwork while Travis cleared the table and washed the dishes.
"I'm ready for my consequence, Miss Dara."
"Here's the key to the chest in the spare bedroom. I'll need the wrist restraints, the flogger, and a piece of rope. The one I want is coiled by itself; you'll see which one I mean. Oh, and the white plastic bag. Be sure not to open it."
"Yes, ma'am." Travis disappeared upstairs. When he came downstairs I told him to take down the chin-up bar I'd put in the doorway of the laundry room. He looked at me questioningly, but hurried off to comply. I joined him a minute later, putting the wrist restraints on him and standing on a stool to tie each wrist to the hardware in the doorway that normally held the chin-up bar in place. I realized I needed a way to immobilize his legs too, if I was going to use this doorway again, but I would have to figure that out later. For now, I just ordered him to spread his legs so his feet were touching the doorframe and trusted he would obey me. By the time I had the wrist restraints on and the rope tied from the D-ring to the door hardware, Travis was fully erect.
"We've been married less than a day, and you've already broken your contract with me." I trailed the leather of the flogger over my hand as I faced Travis.
"I know, ma'am. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. And I'm ready for my punishment."
Without another word, I flicked my wrist, sending the strands of the flogger against Travis' chest, striking his nipples. He bit his lip, but remained silent. I was silent too as I worked out a pattern, moving from his shoulders and across his chest, down to his abdomen, until the skin was all deeply pink and hot to the touch. Travis' cock was still as hard as it was when I had begun. His eyes were open, but not focused, as if he were in a trance. I slid between him and the doorframe and continued my ministrations with the flogger, until his back and his ass matched the pink of his chest.