The Coldest Night of the Year

It was about midnight when Clara finally came home.

As soon as I heard the sound of the key in the front door, my heart was racing.

I tried to look nonchalant as my wife opened the door. I doubt I was very convincing. She scowled when she saw me sitting there on the sofa.

"I thought I told you not to wait up," she said. She'd been drinking. I can't say I was surprised by that.

She was wearing a cashmere sweater and a short, tight skirt that took advantage of her legs and ass. At some point after she'd left home that morning, she'd lost her bra and I could see her nipples were hard from the cold. She smoothed her skirt and ran her fingers through her short red hair. She was normally perfectly put-together. I'd never seen her looking quite this disheveled.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't sleep." I had sincerely tried to honor her demand, but I found myself lying awake in bed with a knot in the pit of my stomach.

"Really?" she said. She didn't sound surprised. Merely annoyed. "I thought I made myself clear."

I waited for her to give me some indication of what she wanted to happen next.

Clara walked across the room, passing close enough for me to catch the scent of alcohol, and stood in front of the overstuffed leather chair in the corner. She stood there for a moment, put her hands on her hips, and stretched, arching her back.

I watched, still frozen, as her breasts thrust forward. The hem of her skirt, already high, rose slightly on her thighs. God, I loved her legs. She was wearing a pair of heels I hadn't seen before. I know every pair of her shoes intimately and I knew I'd never seen these. She looked at the wall, as if watching herself in a mirror, but clearly thinking about what to do next. She must have done this for a full minute or two before she even looked at me.

"How was your day?" She asked, without enthusiasm. I couldn't tell if she was trying to change the subject, or just going through the motions.

"Busy," I said. "Three shopping days till Christmas. So, there were lots of shopping bags of gifts and drunken partiers. At least I picked up some surge pricing."

"I would have loved to have been out driving today, instead of at a fucking offsite with the other division VP's. Christ, what a bunch of empty suits." She sat down in the chair and crossed her legs.

"I left my car at the W, and took an Uber home myself." At least she was self-aware enough not to drive. She was smirking, letting me know she'd just hired a guy like me to drive her home. Was the meeting at the W? I couldn't remember.

"Bring me a Scotch and a cigar," she said.

I knew better than to ask her if she was sure she wanted another drink. As a life-long non-drinker, I knew it came off as sanctimonious even under the best of circumstances. But I was in no position to do that with Carla. She prided herself on her ability to hold her liquor. She got tougher and more focused as she drank.

I nodded and crossed over to the bar on the opposite wall. Trembling, I poured exactly two measures of her favorite single malt. I pulled a cigar from the humidor on the cart, unwrapped it, cut the tip, put in my mouth. I held a flame to the end and, when it was well lit, I went back to her. I put the Scotch in her open hand. I bent over and she took the cigar from my mouth and took a puff.

"You're getting good at that."

"Thank you."

She took a deep pull from the Scotch and looked up at me.

"I'll give you a choice," she said, moistening the tip of the cigar in her mouth and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You can go to bed now, or you can ask me about tonight. But you may not like the answer." She already knew what I'd choose. She was just being cruel.

"Tell me about tonight."

She glared at me.

"I'm sor...I mean...Please tell me about tonight. Please." I said it carefully. She wanted me to beg. But she hated it when I whined or wheedled.

She nodded slightly. She waved her hand to signal that I that I could sit. I kneeled at her feet. She reached over and stroked my head and my face. I could feel myself flushing. It was the first time she'd touched me in days. When it was clear I had her permission, I nuzzled her hand and kissed the palm. "Thank you," I whispered.

***

Had it really only been six months since everything changed between us? The days before I gave myself to her seemed so far away, so impossible. But the night it happened was unforgettable.

It was the first day of summer and I'd been home all day. I'd been out of work for a month, ever since my landscaping business went bankrupt. I was sitting on the sofa, surfing the web, feeling sweaty and sorry for myself, when I heard the front door open.

Clara came into the living room. She was wearing my favorite pair of heels, a purple skirt that came to a stop a few inches above the knee, and a while silk charmeuse blouse. The blouse was way too hot for the weather, and she'd undone several buttons, affording a tantalizing view of a pink lace-trimmed bra. Sweat was trickling down her neck and between her breasts.

"I tried calling you earlier," she said. "I think your phone's dead."

"Yeah, no one calls me much any more."

"I wished you'd picked up. You could have joined me at the celebration."

"Celebration?"

"I've been promoted to division VP."

"Holy shit! That's amazing," I said. She'd been working hard for months, but this was unexpected. I didn't get up. It was just too damn hot.

"Too bad you missed my big moment because you were too busy to charge your phone," she sneered. She'd been edgy for days, but this was nasty even for her. Then, Carla looked thoughtful for a moment. Her expression changed from obvious irritation to something more enigmatic.

"Never mind," she said. I breathed a little easier. "I want you to come here." She sounded serious, so I rushed to her. "Not so close," she said, holding out her arm. She stood there smiling, almost leering at me.

Now that I was closer, I could smell alcohol on her.

"I've been thinking about you," she said, and took a step toward me. I reached out for her, but she took my arms by the wrists. "Not yet. Put your hands behind your back." I complied. It had already been weeks since we'd fucked. I was hard and eager, but I wasn't going to mess up whatever she had in mind.

"Good," she said. She put a finger to my lips, and said, "Sssh. No talking. Keep your hands behind your back, and lick the sweat from my neck. No lips or teeth: just your tongue. Take your time and do a good job. I've been thinking about your tongue all day."

She offered me her neck, put her hand behind my head and guided my face. I ran my tongue from her collar bone to just behind her ear. I hesitated for a moment, and then she turned her face to offer me the other side of her neck. I could feel her throat vibrate as she moaned softly. She slid her hand up my trousers and grabbed my hard cock firmly. When I reached her other ear, I moved to kiss her. She removed her hand from behind my head, put it on my mouth and turned her face, denying me a kiss. Now I was the one moaning.

Clara squeezed my hard cock tighter. "I know it's been a couple of weeks since I let you fuck me, but it wasn't your cock I was thinking of." She released my erection and I immediately missed her firm grip.

She paused, and looked at me. I was a wreck at this point. I needed badly to fuck her, but she was insisting on playing this goddamned game with me.

"Not tonight," she said, having clearly interpreted the look of frustration and puzzlement on my face. "I don't want your cock in me right now." She paused. Right now? It had been weeks, and it didn't seem like I was going to fuck her anytime soon. I'm sure I looked defeated. She smiled.

"But, like I said, I've been thinking about your tongue all day." I wasn't sure I liked where this was going. She stroked my face and smiled. "I've missed your tongue so much. I don't want your cock, but do very much want you to go down on me. If that appeals to you."

I paused before answering the implied question. To be honest, at that moment, I would have happily tongue-fucked her. I loved eating her pussy, and she knew it. But I feared that if I couldn't actually fuck her, it might be unbearable.

"Make up you mind. If you don't want to lick my cunt, just say so. I'll go to bed and take care of myself." She seemed genuinely confused and exasperated at my hesitation.

"Sorry. Of course, I'll go down on you. But..." I wasn't sure what I was going to say next.

"You're in no position to negotiate." She was right about that. She'd made up her mind long before she'd gotten home. I was caught completely off guard and a little stupid from the heat. "One more time: Do you want to go down on me or not?"

"Yes."

"Good answer." She stroked my face again. "First, you need to shave. Do a good job. I don't want to feel any stubble on my thighs. If I do, no pussy for you."

I turned and went to the bathroom. I was flushed and angry. But I was also more excited than perhaps I'd ever been. Clara had always been strong willed inside the bedroom and out, but this was something new. And, despite her conditions, or maybe because of them, it was exciting. I used a fresh blade and shaved twice.

When I came out of of the bathroom, she was sitting on the bed. She's changed into a silk robe, but was still in her stockings and heels. Her legs were crossed. She beckoned me over, and I stood in front of her. She reached up and stroked my face again. She smiled. "You did a good job. I like that. Take off your clothes."

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped. I stood before her, naked and displaying a raging erection. I felt complete exposed, especially since she seemed to have no interest in my cock.

She put her hand behind my head again and pulled my face lower, but not not to kiss me as I'd hoped. She brought me to her chest. "Lick the sweat off my breasts. As before, no lips or teeth. Just your delicious tongue. And take your time." I licked her breasts slowly and with total concentration. She made it clear with her guiding hand and a firm "no" that I was not to lick her nipples. I'd never focused this much attention on anything in our lovemaking before, and I was surprised how lost I became in the moment -- focused solely on the taste, the smell, and the curve of her beautiful tits. When she pushed my face away, I was momentarily disoriented. If she hadn't held my face there, I was certain I could have gone back to nuzzling her tits for another hour.

She pushed me back a couple of feet.

"On your knees," she said. I dropped instantly and she smiled. "You're becoming more obedient. I like that." She spread her legs a little. She was wearing thigh-high stockings. "I bought these today, when I realized what I wanted tonight," she said. She pulled my face toward her crotch, but stopped short. "I want you to start by smelling my pussy." I could smell her already, and my mouth was watering. I breathed in deeply and licked my lips.

"You smell amazing," I said. It was the first thing I'd said since I'd agreed to her terms in the foyer. I moved my face toward her cunt.

"Ask for it," she said. I didn't expect that, but things had gone so far at this point that all I could think about was going down on her. She was still very much in control of the situation and I was afraid she wouldn't even let me lick her if I didn't ask.

"May I lick your pussy?"

"Is that how your mother taught you to ask for pussy?"

"May I please lick your pussy?" I asked, a little desperately.

"I like that," she said. "You sound sincere. My clit is very swollen. I want you to start by sucking it. But, if you try to make me cum before I'm ready, I'm sending you away for the night."

I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around her clit. I sucked it into my mouth. "Oh, God. That's it. Imagine you're sucking my cock." I bobbed my head, while keeping my lips wrapped around her clit. "Fuck, yes, suck my clit, bitch!" I continued to go down on her for several minutes, guided by her hand at the back of my head and her demands that I suck her. She began to buck, and I could feel her shoving her clit into my mouth. I pulled back a bit, remembering her demand that I not make her cum before she was ready.

"Stick out your tongue, and shove it up my cunt." My neck was getting sore. "Deeper! I want to fuck your face." Now, she greedily raised her hips. I could barely breathe, my face was so deep in her cunt. "I'm going to cum in your face, bitch." The deeper I shoved my face inside her, the harder she pushed against it. "Oh...my...God!" she screamed.

I'm not certain how long it went on, but I spent the evening on my knees, with my face between her thighs, with her alternately pushing me away and then shoving her cunt in my face as it pleased her. Sometimes she came. Other times, she used me to tease herself.

Eventually, she dropped back, drained. I stretched my neck. I was about to stand up, when I saw her staring at me. "You're not done," she said. "Now, kiss my pussy and show me how grateful you are that I fucked your face."

I kissed her pussy gently, and whispered, "Thank you." I realized I'd never been this grateful for anything. I was becoming choked up with gratitude to her for letting me lick her cunt and for fucking my face.

She looked down at me and stroked my face. "You were very good tonight. I've never cum like this before, at least with you. I think we've both learned a lot about each other. You may stand up."

As I stood up, she could see that I was still stiff and hard.

"Would you like to cum?" she asked, mocking me.

"May I?" I knew it wasn't going to happen unless I asked.

"Hmm. Don't expect me to make you cum. But I'll watch you jerk off."

I had been on the edge of coming for so long that I could barely contain myself. I stroked my cock just a few times before I could feel it pumping. I quickened the pace and moaned. Clara could tell I was ready to blow, and looked at deep into my eyes. She had a hard and distant expression on her face.

I came hard. The combination of long deprivation and the intensity of the evening were more than I could bear. My cum exploded all over her pussy and thighs.

"Lick it up, darling," she said. I bent over and lapped up the cum, savoring its thick consistency and salty taste. "I'm glad I let you cum. I'm turned on by you eating cum out of my pussy." I sucked it out of her bush, and hungrily sought out any stray drops I might have missed.

She shoved my face away from her crotch. "You're finished. You're supposed to be eating your cum, not licking my pussy."

She looked down at me. "I've never seen you cum like that before. I think maybe you're getting off on not being allowed to fuck me."

She was right. I'd never felt so satisfied. Nor so calm. I didn't feel under pressure to perform or be some sort of ideal lover. My wife had fucked a lot of guys before she married me. I think she may have fucked a few since. But for the first time since I'd known her, there was no pressure to measure up as a lover. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do to satisfy her, and I was content.

"Nothing to say? That tells me all I need to know. I've suspected for a while that I could make you my bitch. You just needed a little encouragement. You may sleep with me tonight, but don't get used to it."

"I understand," I said.

"I'm not sure you do," she said. "One more thing: I want you up at 7:30 to serve me breakfast."

***

The next morning, my alarm went off at 7:30. I couldn't remember setting it. Next to the clock was a note from Clara telling me exactly what she wanted for breakfast.

At 8:30 sharp, I brought her breakfast on a tray. I had no idea what her expectations were. Was the previous evening a drunken impulse?

She took the tray from me. I stood there silently while she took a few sips of coffee and glanced at the newspaper, waiting for her to acknowledge the meal and my service -- or at least dismiss me. She put the paper aside, and looked up at me.

"I'm surprised how much your submissiveness turns me on. I've been thinking about topping you for weeks, but last night I was just drunk enough and pissed off enough to do it. To be honest, I've been wondering how I felt about you for weeks. But after last night, all I can think about about is how hard I came, and how sweet you are to wait on me."

I didn't say anything. The twin revelations that she'd been wondering about our relationship and that she was still so turned on by my submission had caught me by surprise. But as the silence continued, I realized she was waiting for me to speak.

"That was amazing," I said. "It made me very happy to feel you cum in my face like that, and to feel you so satisfied. I love pleasing you. And I was very grateful that you let me cum. Thank you."

"Good," she said, as if we'd come to an agreement. "We can work out the rules later, but as far as I'm concerned, I expect you to submit on demand. Do that work for you?"

I nodded. I was eager to please her and reluctant to cross her. I was anxious, excited, and curious. I couldn't think of any time in my life where the future seemed so full of promise. Or so ominous.

"But let's get one thing out in the open. I've been thinking about this all night. If you're going to be my bitch, the time may come when I need to take a lover."

"No ... please." I realized as soon as I said those words, my fate was sealed. If I was begging my wife not to take a lover, I'd already lost.

"Not right away. I promise," she said, with more of a smile than I would have liked. "But when that time comes, I'll let you know before I fuck anyone. We can talk then about whether you wish to continue to submit to me, whether I still want your submission, and what happens next. I promise."

"Thank you," I mumbled. Even then, I realized that wasn't much of a promise. But, for some reason, it felt like more than I felt I had any right to expect. The next six months would be the best of my life, and the best of our marriage. They ended sooner than I'd hoped, in ways that were easy to predict, and also in ways that no one could have foreseen.

***

So, sooner than I hoped, I found myself kneeling before her after midnight on the coldest night of the year. She was clearly already furious at having to deal with me after an evening of .... what? I had no idea. And now I faced the awful consequences of having chosen to submit to a woman whom I knew to be cruel and unforgiving.

I knelt there, feeling her warm hand on my face. She withdrew it and leaned back into her chair. She took a few puffs of her cigar. She looked warm and comfortable. I shivered a little in the cold.

"I haven't fucked him yet," she said.

Now my face felt hot. I was blushing with humiliation and jealousy. I could also feel myself getting hard. I tried to think of something else.

"It's Jay," she said. Jay had joined her company a couple of weeks ago as vice president of another division. "He's been flirting pretty shamelessly with me since he got here. I've been ignoring him, for the most part. But, to be honest, he's pretty fucking hot." She looked lost in thought for a couple seconds. "Anyway, there have been a couple of times recently when he caught me checking him out."

I stared at her shoes. I didn't want her looking through me right now.

"This afternoon at the meeting, Jay caught me checking out his ass. I was completely flustered. It's been a while since you've seen me like that." I'm not sure I'd ever seen her flustered.

"He asked me to join him for a drink at the bar after after the meeting. I hesitated, but I was too taken aback to say no. Then he told me to call my husband and tell him I'd be late. That's when I called and told you not to wait up for me. He was standing there and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck while I left the message.