Roseann Discovers Dominance

I finally rolled out of Bitumen around four o'clock. There was only an hour's daylight left at most, but at least I could reach I-80 and get gassed up while there was still light.

I had from now until I got back to Chicago to compose myself, to resume my role as slave owner and lover for Craig. I knew right away that I could never tell him what happened in Mike's trailer, but how could I conceal my shame? I'd have to be extra tough on him, as I'd been after the fiasco on Labor Day, not giving him a chance to respond. But could I make it work a second time?

Going down on Mike had changed me. I could feel it, not just in my gut, but deep in my soul. I hadn't been taken like that in over a year. The merciless, dominant mistress that Craig needed had gone on leave, perhaps forever, leaving behind a pitiful, spineless doormat who could actually have an orgasm while sucking cock.

I stopped at the Phillips 66 in Morris. Sure enough, the oil was down below the 'fill' line, and I had the boy put in a quart while the gas tank filled. I bought an extra quart to take along, and a packet of Sen-Sen to mask any odor of Mike's semen that might still be on my breath.

While doing all this, I came up with a plan. Before leaving the Phillips 66, I called Craig from the outdoor pay phone.

"I got away late. I won't be home until around eight."

"Should I wait supper?"

As simple as the request was, it took me by surprise. He was asking for instructions, and I no longer felt qualified to give them. I watched tiny snowflakes swirl in the streetlights for a moment before answering.

"Go ahead and eat. I'll reheat something when I get home."

"Okay, lover. Take your time on the highway. The snow's falling here."

"It's falling here, too. But I've got a special request."

"What's that?" There was a trace of hopefulness in his voice.

I looked around to be sure no one could hear. "I need you to be rough tonight."

"Rough?"

"I mean, be rough with me. Tear my clothes off, push me down, and put it in me. If I fight back, you struggle with me, and you'd better win."

"That's an odd thing to ask for. What happened?"

"It's been an unusual day. It's not what I want, it's what I need. That's what you're there for, slave. To take care of my needs. Am I right?"

"Yes, RoseAnn."

"Don't be afraid to bruise me up a little if it comes to it."

"I don't know..."

"You're my slave, aren't you? I'm giving you an order. I want it rough and I want you inside me and I want you to come. I need to be punished like a disobedient slave girl. Good-bye." I hung up before he could protest further.

My belly was tight with excitement as I drove. It wasn't easy to go slow, though some parts of the highway were sheer ice. When I turned onto I-55, the sand trucks had already been through, and the heavy Saturday night traffic sped up to fifty or even fifty-five.

I thought about the paradox of my situation. To expiate my sin against Craig, I'd have to be rougher on him. He'd asked me once to whip him with his belt, but I'd refused. I could do that for him now, but it would only be out of guilt. Instead, like the selfish mistress he wanted, I'd look after myself instead, and do my penance by forcing him to rape me. And I'd never have to hurt him by telling him about Mike and the trailer.

I found myself looking forward to getting back to our apartment. I imagined him grabbing me and holding me down, ripping my clothes off, perhaps slapping me to stop my struggling. Then he would force my legs apart and spend himself into my body.

* * *

By the time I walked into the lobby of the apartment building, I was a nervous wreck. The car had skidded dangerously a few times, and I'd nearly collided with another driver who'd spun his car in a complete circle. Even when I arrived at the apartment, Craig's parking space was drifted with snow. Instead of getting the shovel from the trunk and clearing it, I just rammed the nose of the car into the drift until it was clear of other parking lot traffic. That was good enough for now.

I grew nervous as the elevator clunked and bonged its way up. The dangerous drive from Morris had taken a lot of energy, and I found myself nearly devoid of both aggression and regret. I had no idea what to expect when I got to the apartment. There was about an even chance that I'd find him naked and on his knees, holding a glass of wine, as he usually greeted me. Or he might be sitting imperiously in his recliner, cock at full attention, demanding the same service as I'd given Mike.

I unlocked the door and stepped in. The dead silence made me nervous. I expected Craig to jump out from somewhere naked and scare the crap out of me. But was he even there? I kicked off my boots and hung my coat in the closet. His coat was there and it was dry. But before I could turn around, hands reached around my waist from behind, grabbed my breasts, and squeezed.

"Hey! That hurts!"

"Bitch! I took you long enough to get home! What were you doing that took so long, slut?" he growled against my back.

Christ! Does he know about Mike already!

I wondered if Mike had called, crowing over his triumph and reclaiming me for his own.

I twisted from side to side, trying to break free. It occurred to me for an instant how ridiculous this must look, a five-foot-eight man grappling with a strong, six-foot-two woman from behind. But as I'd discovered before, Craig was stronger than he looked. He reached his fingers inside the buttons of my blouse and pulled, ripping the fabric and popping buttons onto the floor.

"You wrecked my shirt!" It was my good one, too, and cost ten dollars new.

"Too bad," he said. He pushed the straps from my shoulders and yanked the bra down to my waist. He reached for my breasts again, pinching the nipples and pulling me away from the closet. He grabbed the waist of my skirt at the back and, keeping one breast in his grip, frog-marched me into the bedroom. He tossed me face down onto the bed, unzipped my skirt, and pulled skirt, slip and panties off in one motion. All that remained of my clothing were my nylons, garter belt, and the bra tangled around my waist.

"Up on your knees!" he commanded, but before I could move, he gripped my hips and lifted me. I tried to turn and look at him, but he smacked me hard on the ass. "Straight ahead, bitch."

Something hot and silken touched the lips of my pussy, and I grunted, unable to keep from bucking back at him. In a couple of strokes, his cock had slipped into me. This wasn't quite what I'd asked for, but it felt good. As he thrust, more and more of his cock entered me, and I matched his movements with my own. I'd rehearsed things I was going to say, to taunt him or anger him, but I forgot all those as his lovely cock filled me and began to move. I bucked my hips toward him and cried out in pleasure.

He had never gone deeper into me than this. Goose bumps rose on my arms and all over my body, and I already raced to climax. But as good as it felt, I couldn't quite get over the edge. He pumped harder and cried out, his hips smacking hard against my ass. Warmth spread through my pelvis, bringing me very close to the edge, but my body still refused. I wished he'd reach around and just once touch my clitoris. But I was getting what I'd demanded and I had to accept it.

When he finished, I felt him sag behind me, and his cock wilted and dropped out of my vagina. Warm semen ran down my thigh. He pushed me over until I landed on my side on the mattress. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than two minutes.

I lay panting while he left the bedroom. I heard water running in the bathroom, and he came in with a wet washcloth and gently wiped the sticky drops from my legs and pussy.

"That felt strange," he said. "I guess it was good for me, but you didn't come, and that just doesn't seem right. Why did you want it this way, anyway?"

"Once in a while, a girl likes to feel like a girl, not a slaveowner."

He made a twisted smile. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a call I got from your ex-husband, would it?"

Holy shit! It would be just like Mike to try to fuck up the one good thing in my life.

I steeled myself. For Craig's sake, I was going to brazen this one out.

"Mike called?"

"It was short. He just said, 'Ask RoseAnn what she and I did at my trailer today.'"

I opened my mouth, having no idea what was going to come out, but Craig spoke first.

"RoseAnn, you've told me all I want to hear about Mike. I want you to do this one thing for me--whatever happened, however wrong or however innocent, or whether you're proud of it or feeling guilty, I don't want to hear a thing about it. Not ever. I don't want your ex coming between us."

"Since you insist, my lips are sealed. But you're not even a little bit curious?"

"No," he said, taking my hands. "If you and he did something, anything, I don't want to lose you over it. You're the most important person in my life, and the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I want it to stay that way. I don't ever want to find myself in the position of having to forgive you or trying to forget. I love the life we have together."

This man is a saint and a genius. No wonder I'm so much in love with him.

I wanted desperately to do something for him, to reward him for the unconditional love he showed me, day after day, and especially now. There was only one way I could do that.

"If you love me that much, I'll give you a chance to show me. I need to come, and I need to come now." I lay back on the bed and spread my legs.

He moaned aloud as he settled onto his belly between my thighs. I rested my heels in the small of his back. I almost pushed him away when I realized that his jizz would be oozing from my vagina. I thought that I should stop him and have him wash away the last of his semen first, but I was soon lost in ecstasy, and beyond caring. He seemed unaware, and eagerly caressed me with his lovely warm tongue.

Afterward, we lay together as he stroked my hair. His cock, which was rarely limp at a time like this, coiled against my leg. I thought about Mike and realized that I was free of him at last. My meeting with Mike, as ugly as it was, had blown away any illusions that I still had about my life with him.

And now, Craig had washed away my guilt without ever knowing--or caring--what had happened. He loved me and trusted me without reservation, even in the face of overwhelming signs that I'd betrayed him. No woman could ask more of a man than that.