The Submission Of Maureen

I was tempted to submit this story to the Loving Couples section, but I appreciate that it does really belong in Nonconsent, Reluctance. If themes of this nature aren't enjoyable to you or, worse, you find them to be repugnant or offensive, then you really shouldn't read this story. I must also warn you that it starts slow and even escalates slowly into the middle of the story, but I do feel that it ends strong.

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Maureen and Thomas Black had been married for three years. It was a successful marriage. Everyone could see that. They were a very happy couple. Even to this day Maureen would usually find some excuse to call Tom at work, just to hear his voice. He worked at a stock brokerage firm, she was an elementary school teacher. Tom would occasionally complain to his colleagues about her calls. She could at times call at rather inopportune times. But, he would invariably smile when he hung up, so happy to be married to her. In fact, when she didn't call he might ask her why when he got home that evening.

They loved spending time together, and had developed quite a number of joint hobbies and activities. They were joint members of a bridge club and a cooking club, and they would go horseback riding at least twice a month. They were not your "stay-at-home," television couples, not that there is anything wrong with that.

They did, of course, do some things on their own. They weren't tied together. Maureen belonged to a book club and Tom had no real interest in that. Even if he had it was a club for just women, reading "chick books," as he would say. However, he had his own "club." On the night she was discussing "Confessions of a Shopaholic" or "Bridget Jones's Diary" with her friends, he was playing in a Texas Hold-Um club. She had no interest in that.

They got up early each morning so that they could have a nice pleasant breakfast together. So many of their married friends just rushed off to work, each on their own quite busy schedule. Tom and Maureen, however, treasured the early morning moments, particularly in the summer when they would have breakfast on the screen porch, listening to the awakening birds.

But, there was one problem, or at least it might be a problem. Their sex life had clearly diminished over the last couple of years. They had been quite active, sexually, prior to marriage and continued to be for much of the first year of marriage. But, it seemed to slip, to lessen, in frequency and intensity throughout the second year, and really fell off during the third.

Tom even asked his married friends about this. They tried to reassure him. It was only natural, they said, for the frequency to decrease as time passed. The novelty would diminish, routine would set in. They did note thought that married couples still had more sex on average than unmarried persons. They read in the newspaper that, across cultures, married couples had sex on average about three times per week, whereas the single person was less than that (when averaged across the entire year).

However, Tom and Maureen weren't even having sex three times a week and, besides, it wasn't particularly inspiring sex.

Tom knew it must be his fault. He tried hard to please her. He wasn't the least bit inhibited about performing oral sex on her and in fact worked pretty hard at it. With some effort he could bring her to orgasm that way, but that was frankly the point: "with some effort," and he wasn't always successful.

He couldn't use the excuse that she wasn't really that interested in sex. She had plenty of orgasms on a routine basis prior to their marriage, or at least he thought she did. He wondered now if she had been like Elaine with Seinfeld, pretending to have orgasms. Now that she was married perhaps she was losing the motivation to always pretend. He couldn't blame her for that. How weird would it be to pretend throughout your marriage that you were having orgasms?

He did try very hard. He took his time with foreplay, he suppressed his more repugnant, offensive sexual fantasies (which he was quite ashamed to have) and he was always quite romantic with Maureen. He would at times surprise her with a nice romantic evening, building up to what he thought would be a delicious, candle light intimacy. She had seemed to love it when they were dating. But, the spark had clearly worn off.

For awhile he wondered if she was having an affair. That would certainly explain her decreased interest in having sex with him.

Maureen did have quite a few offers. She was a very attractive women. She wasn't like a gorgeous bombshell model. She was a very petite girl, only about 5'1" and she was quite insecure about her breast size, which was rather small (32A). But, goodness, she was attractive. Tom said that she reminded him so much of Calista Flockhart as Ally McBeal. Calista is much taller than Maureen, but they were still quite similar, particularly facially. He always wondered if that was what first attracted him to her. She really was her spitting image. She had long straight blonde hair, an adorably perky nose, the cutest of dimples, and the most innocent, sparkling brown eyes. She was undeniably very pretty and sensual.

Maureen had such a bubbly, outgoing, and engaging personality. And, she dressed in a manner that accentuated her sexual appeal. She liked to wear tight, short skirts and high heels. Quoting Ally McBeal, "Men are constantly trying to undress me. I'm just trying to save them some time." She didn't dress that way when she taught classes at school. She would probably, of course, drive the little boys wild if she had done that. But, whenever they went out on the town, she dressed to kill. Tom wondered if she dressed so provocatively because of her insecurity over the size of her breasts, but he never expressed the thought, as the way she dressed was certainly fine with him. She had such nicely curved legs and the most perkiest, adorable of bottoms. The thought of anal sex crossed his mind on occasion as she bent over in one of her tight skirts to pick something up, the curves of her perky round fanny becoming tightly molded by her skirt, but he thought better of ever bringing that up. He certainly didn't want her to think that he was some sort of a pervert.

Maureen acknowledged her physical resemblance to Ally, and they both enjoyed the fact that Calista was back with a new show, "Brothers and Sisters," although it was a little jarring at first for Tom. Kitty Walker is much different than Ally McBeal. Maureen was frankly closer in personality to Ally than to Kitty. But, perhaps a little reality was good for Tom.

Tom just felt fortunate to be Maureen's husband, as did many of the men who came across Maureen at work or during one of their social events. They couldn't understand her attraction for him. It has been suggested that men and women marry at the same level of attractiveness. If that's true, then Maureen certainly married down a notch. It wasn't that Tom was unattractive, but he lacked the striking appeal of Maureen. He was just average looking, whereas she was quite the fetching vixen.

Tom would say that he was Maureen's "John Cage," whereas Ally was in fact carrying a torch for the more handsome Billy Thomas. Ally did at one time date John, but it seemed to be little more than a pity date. John was good looking, but he was clearly out of Ally's league. John was a bit of the wimp, whereas Billy was the stud.

And, that did not go unnoticed by the single, and at times even married, men that always seemed to circle around Maureen. Tom couldn't blame them. If he was in their shoes (and had their physical attributes) he would probably do the same thing. And, besides, the way Maureen dressed did seem to suggest that she was looking.

Maureen was fully aware of the efforts to seduce her away from Tom, but she never wavered and, unlike Ally, was never actually tempted. She was very happy with Tom and would do nothing to harm or hurt their marriage.

But, if asked, she would have to agree that the fire within the bedroom was dying down to just a few embers. And, she knew it was her fault.

She finally decided that she would have to broach the topic. She had vowed three months ago that she would do so before her next birthday, and that was tomorrow. She couldn't put it off any longer. She would have to explain herself to Tom. She wanted this marriage to work and she could tell that in one important respect it was not working. But, it would be so difficult to talk about, so difficult to acknowledge. The fact that it was her birthday tomorrow might at least provide a degree of sympathy.

"Tom, we need to talk."

He didn't like the sound of that. That was a sentence that invariably meant bad news. He had been dreading this. He didn't know what it would be, but he knew it couldn't be good. He sighed deeply, figuring that she was finally going to tell him about an affair. She had met somebody knew. Probably that Brewster Harris guy who ran the stables. He was a very eligible bachelor: rich, good looking, and engaging. Everything Tom was not. "Yes, well, I was kind of expecting this."

"You were? Really?"

"Well, yes. I s'pose."

"It's just, that, well, we really haven't been doing it that much anymore, you know."

"Yes, I know, and I want you to know that I can do better."

"No, no, Tom, it's not you, really, it's me."

'Oh man,' he thought, there it is, the line, 'It's not you, it's me.' It's a way of dumping someone without suggesting that it has anything to do with the attractiveness or appeal of the partner. Of course it's you. If you were the person they wanted there wouldn't be a problem. It's also a way of making sure that the person has no choice but to accept it. If it was you, you could do something about it. You could change. You could try harder. But, if it's not you, there's nothing that you can do.

Maureen looked away. "This is really difficult to say, Tom."

Tom could feel a wave of anxiety sweep through him. How bad is this? Is she really going to talk about a separation, a divorce? He vowed he would fight that. Other than the sex, they seemed to be getting along so well. Everything seemed so fine, so good. But, he knew he wouldn't really fight it. If she was in love with somebody else, there would be no point in trying to win her back. He had been looking forward so much to her birthday. He had arranged for a very special, romantic dinner at one of the most exclusive French restaurants in town. He had been hoping that this would ignite a spark in their marriage. He couldn't imagine taking her there now. How odd would that be? He wouldn't try to keep her if she didn't want him. He would go quietly. "Don't worry, Maureen. I'll be fine."

"What?" What the hell was he talking about? "No, um, I don't think you understand."

What the heck was she talking about? "What is it?"

"It's about, you know, our, our," she said more quietly, "sex life."

Well, he knew that. But, it was good to get it out on the table. "It has kind of slipped away, hasn't it. I always did want to ask you."

"Ask me?" She was still confused by his responses. "Ask me what?"

"I mean, um, have you always been faking it?"

She smiled at him. He was a rather insecure guy. He wasn't really meek, but he was far from confidently assertive, just like John Cage. It was perhaps odd though. She actually found that attractive in him. She didn't really like the aggressively assertive, take-charge, bossy, confident male, at least in her everyday life. They seemed rather narcissistic to her. She preferred John Cage over Billy Thomas. After all, she had married the Cage when she had quite a few offers from Thomas's. What was perhaps odd was that this was the problem. She liked the Cage as a husband but she preferred his alter-ego in bed. "No, honey, I've never been faking it. I always loved it with you."

"Then, why has it become so infrequent, and so, well, um."

She offered, "Dull?"

It was pretty darn hard to admit that one's sex life was dull. You had to be pretty anhedonic to experience sex as dull, but that was the truth of the matter. He nodded in abject admission. But, still, there was, as yet, no reference to an affair, to another guy. So far, this really wasn't too bad. "Is there something I'm doing wrong?" He blushed as he said that. He knew there must be, but how many guys like to admit that they aren't doing a good job in bed?

"Well, in a sense, yes."

"I knew it," and his face became beet red. He had always wondered if she was happy in bed. She must have had quite a few Billy Thomas's and Brewster Harris's as lovers prior to meeting him. He had tried hard. He had never worked so hard in bed. That was one problem with marrying up. You never quite feel like you're good enough in bed, no matter what you do, as there is nothing that you can do about your body, and what you look like is so significant when it comes to sexual attractiveness.

"No, no, honey, that's not what I mean. Yes, there is something you can do, but the problem is that what I want you to do is something that, well, I never would really expect you to realize." She finally said it. She probably should have said this years ago, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had been hoping that her predilection would just go away as the years went by. She was not proud of it. She was in fact rather ashamed. But, it had not gone away and not admitting it, not talking about it, was interfering with their marriage. It was so difficult to tell him. She certainly didn't want him to think that she was some sort of a pervert.

He wondered what she could be referring to. He certainly didn't mind performing oral sex. It was also perfectly fine with him when she was on top. He had expended considerable effort in making the atmosphere as romantic as possible, and he avoided all sort of any of the more dirty things he actually wanted to do, wanted to ask her to do. Well, she had just said that she never would really expect him to realize what she wanted. If that's so, then how could he be expected to figure it out? "What do mean?"

It was Maureen's turn to blush. "Well, it's just that, um." She moved over on the couch to sit right next to him, and she placed her hand on his thigh. "Tom, this is so hard to admit. Please, please don't hate me after I tell you. You promise me you won't, will you?"

'Wow,' he thought. 'This must really be something.' But, she certainly had no need to be concerned about that. He placed his hand on hers. "Maureen, there is nothing that you could tell me that would make me love you any less."

Maureen almost felt like crying. Her eyes did feel a little watery. It was always nice to have your husband tell you that he loved you. At this moment, she knew she had made the right choice in marrying him. She rested her head on his shoulder. She couldn't look him in the eyes while telling him. She openly sighed and said, "It's just that, well, I like the guy to be more assertive, more forceful."

"Oh," he replied. Yup, this was about him. He knew he was a bit of a wimp. He knew that at times he seemed to be asking to have sex. But, that hardly seemed to be enough of the problem. He ventured to defend himself. "There were times that I was pretty assertive about it." In fact, quite a number of times. He didn't really always ask to have sex. There were plenty of times in which he initiated the session. Heck, most of the romantic nights were initiated by him. That was pretty darn assertive.

"No, no, that's not what I mean." She tucked her face deeper into the crook of his shoulder.

He placed a hand reassuringly on her head. "Maureen, just tell me."

She didn't want to, but she knew she had to. She said, very quietly, "I like it when the guy is, you know, like really forceful, domineering."

There was a moment of silence as the word sunk in. 'Domineering?' He had to admit that he was hardly ever, perhaps never, domineering. On the contrary, he had always been extra careful not to offend her, not to compel her to do anything that she might find offensive. If anything, he was consistently deferential. Now, it appears that was in fact precisely the problem. But, did she really mean what he thought she meant?

She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "Sweety, like, I don't mean in day-to-day life. I love the way you are then, so considerate, so accommodating. It's just that, well, when I have sex, when we have sex, I like it, I've always liked it, when the guy was well, controlling things."

"You want me to say what to do?" He thought he knew what she meant. He wasn't stupid, but he had to be sure.

She looked down. "It's more than that. A lot more than that. I want you to treat me like, well, like, you know, you have complete, entire, full control over me, making me do things that I wouldn't want to do."

Tom could feel his cock beginning to swell. What guy would not feel his cock swell as a pretty, alluring, lovely woman tells him that she wants him to have complete, entire, full control over her, sexually. If he understood her correctly, this was not really bad news. "Is this why you haven't been enjoying it so much?"

She nodded her head. She wanted to cry.

"Why didn't you just tell me? I mean, well, we dated for two years, married for three, and now you're finally letting me know?" He wasn't angry. He was just surprised, confused. He had certainly told her how he liked doing it. Well, that wasn't really true, actually, when he thought about it. He would say, "That's nice," or "That's really nice," when she was doing something that he particularly liked, hoping that she was keeping track of when he would say it. And, besides, he had certainly kept his more severe fantasies to himself, fantasies that perhaps now could be revealed, even expressed?

"I know, I know. I should have said something. But, it's kind of hard to admit, don't you think? I mean, I didn't want you to think I was some sort of a pervert, and I was hoping my enjoyment of it would just drift away. But, it's clear," she said more quietly, "that it hasn't."

No, he wasn't angry with her. He could never be angry with her, and he certainly couldn't be angry, or even disappointed, with her over not telling him something like that. He had clearly kept his own predilections to himself, out of fear of troubling, disappointing, perhaps even disturbing, her. Well, that was about to change.

"Maureen, I think you have been a very, very bad girl."

She looked up at him, with a quite notable look of worried surprise on her face. She knew that it was wrong for her to not be completely honest with her husband. A wife should be completely open and forthright. She should not have any deep secrets, any skeletons that might someday haunt the marriage. But, she really wouldn't consider it so bad not to have told him. It's sometimes quite good, even best, for a marriage not to reveal some dark secrets of the past.

But, as she looked at him, she realized what he was saying, what he was doing. He wasn't really mad. He had in fact gotten the message. She replied appropriately, "I know, I know. I have been bad."

Tom wasn't entirely sure what precisely she wanted him to do. He had a few ideas, but he wasn't about to take this too far. "And, what happens to naughty girls?"

She responded meekly, "They get punished."

"Well, what kind of punishment is warranted for a wife who keeps a secret for five years? Perhaps she should go to bed with no dessert? No television tonight? Do you think that would be sufficient punishment?"

She slid away from him and looked down at her hands, now clasped in her lap. "No sir, I don't. I think she deserves much more than that."

Tom got up from the couch and stood before her, his erection quite evident in his slacks. For perhaps the first time in the marriage, he gave a command. "Look up at me, Maureen."