How Bad She Needs To Be Good Ch 05

Chapter 5

My husband, Tim, and I cuddled all night after our pegging session. Allen (who we addressed as Sir) had been right about Tim needing the reassurance that he still had a role in our marriage despite my submission to Sir. I couldn't deny how powerful it felt to own my husband, especially after an intense session with Allen. Our triangle was more of a ladder, with Tim at the bottom rung and me in the middle. I worshipped at the feet of Allen, and I stepped on my husband in the process.

Tim rewarded my casual cruelty with increasing levels of devotion. Because he worked from home, he maintained the house, made meals, and finished other chores. I made him do it in the nude, with his shaved junk on display. I enjoyed groping him randomly to feel his bare and useless genitalia. If I allowed him an ejaculation, the rule was that I said when and how, and he could only come when he was on the receiving end -- so to speak. Again, the ladder. Allen came in me. I got off on Tim. Tim came into a glass that he had to drink -- his little cucktail.

Today my husband served me breakfast and kneeled beside me while I ate.

"Aren't you going to eat, dear?"

"I'll eat when mistress is finished."

I patted his head. "You're so sweet," I said. "I bet you wish I'd let you jerk off so you could have a snack." His dick gave a little wiggle at that thought. "But no, I'm not sure when I'll let you come again."

"Yes, mistress."

His descent into subservience was so rapid, I couldn't imagine how much he'd been repressing throughout our marriage. No wonder I sought refuge in that first affair. Still, that fling lit a fire under him, fueled by his obsession over the details. So, when Sir reentered my life, Tim was primed to become the adorable cuck he was meant to be.

I wondered if I could keep it up. It was taxing my imagination and sapping my time. Sir was keeping me busy at work. As our CTO, he had me on a major documentation project. We started meeting at the end of each day to go over progress -- but that was mainly a chance for him to abuse me, however willing I was to receive it. I probably needed to go in early or work in the evenings to catch up. Plus, I had to be perfect. Any mistakes -- even a typo -- invited punishment.

It helped that my husband

volunteered

to debase himself. I could simply go along. I didn't tell him to become my housemaid; he just did it. What would he do next? He enjoyed tending to me.

I felt a pang of guilt. After all, I was in love with another man and together we were humiliating Tim. The arrangement was so far from my experience, yet it felt perfect for Tim and me. Every time I checked in with Tim, he was there encouraging me to go further. It was selfish, maybe, to tell myself that it's all OK, because Tim said he

wants

this. But if that was a lie, then Tim was happily joining in.

I couldn't imagine what my friends would say, let alone my family, who saw me as something of a prude. The truth was my prudishness was a cover for a sex drive on a hair trigger. I was as eager to submit to Allen as Tim was eager to submit to me. To deny it was to deny our wiring. Whether or not it was right, we received too much pleasure from it. Who were we to deny that experience because others might judge us? We weren't married to them.

When I went into work, I swung by Allen's office, but his assistant Tanya was in with him. The door was open, so I knocked on the doorframe to get his attention. He held up a finger and finished his thought with Tanya.

Then he said, "What is it, Rebecca?"

"I wanted to say, Hi and let you know I was planning to --"

"We can talk about it during our session. I think you can see I'm busy now."

"Yes, sir," I said, "I thought I could just ask one question--"

Sir stopped me short, "I trust you have enough to do?"

"Yes, Sir," I said. I walked away, dejected. Maybe I was projecting, but I'm sure I saw a smirk on Tanya's face. She was a little nosy and intimidated, surely, by my relationship with Allen -- Mr. Marks -- Sir. But my connection with him went back years to when he lived at my dad's house with us. I felt possessive of him even though here he was an executive and I was a content developer. Probably Tanya was one of those women who felt I got my job because I was the owner's daughter. But I earned this position, and I was damn good at it. If anything, Allen was the one who owed his job to my dad's kindness. They were college buddies. And Allen had kept his athletic build and good grooming, which was also something of a privilege he could coast on.

Who was I kidding? Allen was attractive to everyone. Men admired him and women wanted to land him. He was smart and experienced. He was a bachelor. He had a good income. The spots of silver in his beard and hair only added to his mystique. But I wanted him to myself. It didn't matter than I was twenty years younger and married. I needed the world to know he was mine alone.

In that mood, I texted Tim. "Tonight, I'd like you to give my feet the spa treatment -- scrub, massage, and paint my nails. Get supplies today."

"Yes, M," was his reply. Was he worried about calling me mistress over text? Interesting.

I texted, "I don't want you to mess up. So practice with

your

toenails."

"Yes, M. Thank you."

I laughed. It would be fun to see what color he chose for himself. I realized I didn't always need to have him submit to me in a sexual way. Any little thing he did for me, he would feel as a sexual thrill. Massage my feet. Shave my legs. Shampoo my hair. I could get some mileage out of this. Plus, I deserved the pampering, didn't I?

Later, when I arrived for my session with Sir, I was feeling cranky. I closed and locked the door. I moved to unbutton my blouse, but Sir stopped me.

"Take a seat."

"Yes, sir." I went to the chair in front of his desk and sat, crossing my legs and letting my skirt ride up alluringly. I thought maybe we were going to do the sexy secretary thing.

He said, "I set boundaries to protect our relationship, my pet."

"Of course, sir."

"I can't have people questioning why you have certain privileges. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." This wasn't sexy at all. It felt like a scolding.

"So, when I'm busy, you don't interrupt me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't drop by to say, 'Hi.' You don't find reasons to see me that don't involve work. You don't address me in any way that hints that we're more than professional. Is that clear?"

"I understand." My face felt hot from embarrassment. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. "I'm sorry that I overstepped, sir."

"OK, then. As long as we're clear."

I nodded and bowed my head.

He shifted the topic to work, and that really broke my heart because it meant I would not get sir's cock today. I looked forward to it all day. It got me through the tedium of the project. I had to deal with all the stakeholders and their egos. They weren't always helpful, or they were too helpful and wanted to control everything. It became frustrating.

"Becky, are you with me?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Honestly, I don't know whether or not to punish you. You're so obviously put out that I'm

not

punishing you, that giving it to you would be a reward."

I shook my head. I tried to speak, but he stopped me.

He said, "Go home."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll be good, I promise."

The look he gave me was devastating. He was stern and cold. I felt the rush of panic bubble up from my stomach -- that ice cold fear. I got up and went to the door. I took a deep breath and left. I held myself together all the way to my car and then burst into tears.

At home, I could barely eat, I was so sad. Tim had all the items out for my pedicure, but I wasn't sure I even wanted that now.

"Please, mistress," he said. "I can tell you've had a rough day. Let me take care of you."

His tenderness moved me. I let him lead me to the living room, where he had set things up. I looked down at his feet.

"You chose pink," I said.

"Yes, mistress, 'Pink Pout.' I wanted to practice the same color I had for you."

"Thank you." I added, "It's very cute."

"Thank you, mistress."

As he took my foot and soaked it. I let my legs open a little to give him a little peek up my skirt.

"Eyes on your work," I said as soon as I caught him looking. He turned his head, but I enjoyed seeing how hard it was for him to keep from being obvious. He tended to my feet, soaked, scrubbed, buffed, and dried them.

I admired my feet while he gathered the polish and materials. This really helped ease my tension. As he prepared, I asked, "Do I have sexy feet, cuck?"

"Yes, mistress. Very."

I lifted my right foot and pointed my toes at him.

"Do feet excite you?"

"I love

your

feet."

"Why don't you give them a little kiss before you start?"

He leaned in and kissed the top of my foot. As he lifted his face up, I pressed my big toe against his lips.

"A real kiss?" I said.

He opened his mouth and sucked on my toe. I sighed. It felt nice. I liked the way his eyes closed softly as he suckled.

I stretched out my left foot and set it against his groin.

"My feet are so soft now. But you're not."

I felt his dick with my foot, running it up and down.

"Could I make you come with my feet?"

"Mm hm."

"You'd like that?"

"Mm hm." His eyes rolled back in his head.

I said, "It would be funny to see your cum all over my feet."

He sighed and he licked the sole of my foot.

I said, "I would have you lick it all up, just like that."

"Yes, please, mistress."

"You can't come yet." I pulled my foot away. "But I'll lock that idea away for now." I flicked his erection with my left foot before setting it down.

He bit his lip and nodded.

"Get back to work." I said.

He picked up the bottle of polish with hands trembling.

"Steady, boy, or you'll make a mess."

He took some deep breaths and prepared my toes. As he got to my left foot, he paused. There on the big toe was a streak of pre-cum that must have splashed there when I was tapping his dick with it. He looked up at me expectantly.

"Yes, cuck. Do."

He sucked it clean.

The next day I did my best to behave. I came in early to work and tried to keep my focus. The project required that I interview many of the stakeholders and developers, so I moved about the building.

As I was walking to an interview, I passed Allen and Tanya in the hall.

"Hello, Mr. Marks," I said.

"Hello Rebecca," Sir said and continued his chat with Tanya as they went down the hall. As they passed me, I could smell Sir's cologne wafting over me. It made me a little weak in the knees, but I managed not to toddle into a wall.

Tanya seemed satisfied with my formality. No doubt, she called him Allen. But he wasn't fucking her -- at least as far as I knew. I couldn't help but be jealous.

It was frustrating to be Allen's secret affair. I felt that thrill of a new romance. At home, I didn't have to hide it from my husband. In fact, Tim seemed to get off on his own jealousy, knowing that I wasn't just fucking someone else, but literally falling in love with them. Tim was my manic pixie dream boy. But at work, having to hide my feelings had gone quickly from a private thrill to an agony.

With Sir's cologne still in my memory, I slipped into the ladies' room and brought myself to the edge of coming. Afterward, I tapped my wet fingers on my lips and neck. I wanted to mark myself in some way. Maybe Sir would catch a scent as he walked by me. Or would Tanya wonder what that intoxicating aroma was?

As I worked on the day's deliverable, I had to go back several times and proof. I used every trick to make sure I was letter perfect. I wanted Sir to be proud of the work. But was it too perfect? Wouldn't it be better if there were just a couple of mistakes to find? I went down to a section header on the third page and changed "Systems" to "Sytems" and then on the last page, in a footnote, I changed the citation to leave out a period.

Would he even notice? Honestly, this was my test of

his

ability to catch me out. I sent him the file and a little thrill went through me as I realized I might find myself over his knee before long.

When I arrived for our hour, I knew he had time to read the document, but he said nothing to me about it.

I sauntered in, locking the door behind me. I opened a couple more buttons on my blouse as I walked up to his desk. He looked up and gave me a slight smile.

"You know you don't need to entice me, Becky. I am smitten, already. You could be in sweatpants and a tee, and I would want to throw you over this desk."

I felt the flutter in my pussy as I imagined the act.

Sir nodded to the seat in front of his desk and I sat down.

He said, "How is Tim? How is he taking all this?"

"He... loved your gift, Sir."

Allen laughed. "I suppose he might. But I'm talking about emotionally. Are you cuddling with him at night? Do you praise his acts of service?"

"Yes, Sir. I do. In fact, I'm a little shocked he isn't more uneasy."

Allen leaned back. I loved the way the shirt tightened across his chest, letting a few short curls peek out from the vee of his shirt collar.

He said, "It's early, and he's on a high -- as you are -- of pleasure. But when this relationship settles down, he may have misgivings. Our culture doesn't support men who want to be submissive to their spouses. They're seen as weak, but I couldn't give you what Tim has. Have you been happy in your marriage?"

"Yes, I adore Tim, and everything else has been wonderful. In fact, I thought I was broken in some way and was willing to shut down this part of me just to keep what Tim and I had alive."

Allen said, "Tell him that. Let him know. Remind him every chance that he has a place in your life beyond the sex. He needs to know he has a critical role that only he can fulfill."

"Of course, Sir. And it's true." It was. While I was fully embracing my new triangle of passion, I knew Allen was not a replacement for Tim. Allen brought a balance to our marriage. We all needed the three legs of the stool, so to speak.

"Besides," Allen said, "The stronger he feels that unique place in your heart, the more he will let himself go for you sexually. He will find new depths for you."

I shivered. Yeah, that sounded pretty good to me. I pictured Tim's pretty pink toes.

Sir stood and walked around the desk, saying, "Now, then drop to your knees, my pet."

I slid off the chair instantly. My mouth was watering before he even unzipped his fly. I looked up into his eyes adoringly as I took him into my mouth. This time, I felt him grow, slowly filling up my mouth, opening my jaw like a jack.

"Have you been practicing?" he said.

"Mm hmm."

"Good, that will make this easier."

He grabbed the back of my head and pressed me forward. I choked as he entered my throat, but he held me still through the initial reaction. Then he pulled back to let me catch my breath. I took a deep breath and he pressed my head back down, using the thick liquid at the back of my throat as more lubrication to go further.

I felt panic for a moment, but then I felt my lips touch the skin at the base of his cock. The thrill of having him all the way inside me pushed away the fear of not breathing. My eyes opened wide with wonder.

"Yes, pet, you did it. Can you feel how far down your throat I am?"

I could only hum in reply.

"Now, before I let you up, I have to ask about those two typos in the document."

The smile at the corner of my eyes broke into panic as he held my head.

"You thought you could fool me that easily? You think I need a little brat to pretend to earn punishments?"

I tried to shake my head, but his cock had me literally pinned straight. I felt the need for air.

"You must understand that

I

choose. I make up the rules. I decide what to do with you and why."

I whined. I hoped he understood. My need for air was urgent, but I held my mouth still for him.

"I am not sure you know your place, my pet. I'm not sure you do. Yes, you belong on my cock, like this, needing it like the very need for air."

My eyes watered as I fought the urge to panic. I swallowed, hoping to milk his cock, hoping that would make him want to fuck my face and give me a breath.

He stroked my chin. "That's right. That's the idea. You serve only to bring me pleasure, right?"

"Ungh."

"Make yourself cum."

Fuck, I reached under my skirt and flicked my clit like a madwoman. I realized as my vision was going white, that I was incredibly wet and aroused. My clit was already engorged. It wouldn't take much to....

And then, as I lost the corners of my vision, and white spots widened, I felt the climax sear through me. I'd felt nothing like it. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, Sir pulled his cock away. I fell forward onto his legs, gasping. Thick drool poured out of my mouth and onto his shoes. I kept fingering myself as the wave rolled over me.

The sensation of oxygen reentering my lungs combined with the tender stroking of Allen's fingers in my hair induced another wave of pleasure -- not from my clit, but through my head and over my scalp like honey.

I turned my face and cleaned my drool off his cock. I nursed it to pacify my need. I bent forward and softly cleaned the tops of his shoes.

Finally, I could come out of my stupor of mindlessly licking and look back up at Allen. He touched my cheek.

"Do you understand better?"

"Yes, sir. I am sorry. I'm so sorry I tried to trick you."

"Thank you, my pet, for not denying it. However, I think you may need another lesson. Go home."

I looked at his cock, which was still hard and sticking out of his fly. The tip of it dripped down onto the floor. I licked my lips.

"Not now, pet."

Even though he had let me come, I felt completely dejected. It was as if only his cum could fulfill me.

I crawled away. I felt too sad to stand. Finally, Allen helped me up. He buttoned my blouse and wiped my face with his handkerchief.

"Be a good girl," he said. "Go home and wait."

At home, Tim could tell I was sad. He hugged me and I collapsed into him. I didn't cry. I felt safe in Tim's arms.

As we broke the hug, I noticed a wet spot on my skirt, when Tim's naked cock had been leaking against me.

"I swear, cuck, if you don't get some control of that thing, I may need to lock it away."

He said nothing, but his dick twitched. I chuckled.

"So, you want one of those things?" I said, miming the turning of a key.

His balls contracted a little in response. He was trying not to come, I realized.

I smiled. "Interesting."

Throughout dinner, I wondered what Allen meant about "another lesson." It was killing me to wait. (Of course.) I kept looking toward the front door, knowing that Sir had his own key and knew the alarm code. He could come and go (and come) as he pleased.

As Tim was cleaning up from dinner and we were thinking about what to watch on TV together, I finally received a call from Sir.

"You and the cuck are to meet me at the club in 20 minutes."

"Yes, sir."

I felt elated but also afraid. In his tone, I didn't hear the soft, kind Allen from yesterday. It was cold, disappointed Sir from today.

"We have to go, cuck," I said. "Sir wants us."

We arrived four minutes early. Tim just needed to get dressed, and I had to change clothes. I chose a dress with a short A-line skirt that buttoned all the way up the front. No bra or underwear, of course. My nipples were dark under the beige fabric.

Sir came out the door and waved us in.

We followed in silence as Sir spoke with Toni. She smiled and guided us through the Club's maze of booths back to another area. She opened a door and gestured us inside. Tim looked at me for reassurance. But I had none to give. He knew that something was off between Sir and me.