Brenda and I had married young, while in college, and our lives had moved quickly after that. Both of us were moving up in our careers, especially Brenda. She seemed driven to excel. Her assent up the corporate ladder was so quick and steady that I would have expected her to be fucking her way up the ladder except for two things. First, all her bosses and supervisors were women, all of them workaholics and all much older than Brenda. Second, Brenda was one of the most prude women I'd ever met.
She enjoys sex, when out schedules allowed, but she always wanted the lights out, never undressed with any windows or doors open even though we lived out in a rural area on the outskirts of town and couldn't even see our nearest neighbor, and always, always, always wore modest clothing. She never, ever showed any cleavage from her firm and pert 34C boobs, and never wore short skirts. She wore those huge granny panties, a substantial bra that kept any hint of a nipple from showing in any clothing, and wouldn't even wear a bikini at the beach. All of this in spite of her having a really cute, petite and shapely body. Her long brunette hair falls just below her shoulders and is thick and silky. Her skin is a warm tone and blemish free, and her waist and hips are perfectly proportional to her height and weight. All in all, she's a dynamite package. Oh, and I absolutely love her thick, full bush that stands guard over that thick lipped pussy that never sees the light of day.
After several years of living together and then marriage I was accustomed to her very modest dress habits, and her even being too shy to discuss sex while we were out in public, as if someone would overhear and think she was a slut or something. All that changed though.
Brenda is a control freak at work, and around the house for that matter. She's so accustomed to being in total control at her work that it carries over when she returns home, she sometimes treating me like one of her staff. That's when I have to remind her of who I am and who I'm not. She just laughs then and gives me that grin that says, "Just do as I tell you," But being continually in control, having to constantly make decisions, eventually takes a toll on a person. This began to manifest in her drinking too heavily some nights and getting in a really foul mood. I went along with it and tried to accommodate her, knowing the stress she was under at the office.
Then one night I'd had enough. Brenda had been just abusive enough in her tone and comments, and my own mood just not quite generous enough, that I snapped a bit myself. I barked back at her, in a quiet but forceful tone with a look that backed up the words. I'd never barked at Brenda like that, and almost instantly she transformed. I expected her to retaliate with loud and harsh words of her own, but instead she lowered her head as is to cower, her body posture changed to one of submission, and her tone changed to being subservient. Whoa, I'd never seen this side of her before in my life and didn't know exactly what to do so I merely commanded her to take herself to bed and not make another sound. And so she did.
The next evening we were both back to normal and I asked her if she remembered the evening before. A blush came over her face when she admitted she did, and we talked about what had happened.
"Todd, I felt so powerless to you. All the fight was gone, washed out and it actually felt good, like a weight was lifted. I think I'd have done anything you commanded at that moment."
"You aren't like that all the time. What happened?"
"I don't know, it just came over me." Over the next couple of weeks I began to experiment now and then with commands, sometimes getting an evil eye from Brenda, but sometimes she'd do precisely what I'd commanded. I even began to try getting her out of her comfort zone by commanding her to undress in the living room with all the lights on. I found just the way to approach the task, getting her set up just right, then hitting her with a command in just the proper tone. After that, she would do as I asked. She and I even discussed this little revelation and I promised not to abuse it, though I really did want to see how powerful the hold was on her once I got her started.
The test was one night while we were out getting a drink and having dinner in town. It was a restaurant we had never been to before, fairly dark and not too crowded. We had a booth near the rear of the place. Brenda had worn a white blouse that evening and true to form she had on both a camisole and a substantial bra. The blouse was buttoned all the way up, but was sheer enough that the camisole underneath was very evident. I don't think Brenda would have actually worn that outfit if she'd known it was that sheer in the lighting conditions of the restaurant.
Midway through dinner I worked Brenda into position, so to speak, then instructed her to go to the ladies room and remove both the camisole and the bra and to stuff them in her pocketbook. She hesitated a moment and I was about to think it wasn't working, but then she dutifully slid from the booth, took her pocketbook and headed towards the ladies room. My heart was pounding and my excitement swelling as I watched her ass as she walked towards the ladies room, but began to fade when it seemed to take much longer than anticipated. I began to feel as if the safety of the ladies room had snapped Brenda out of the moment, that perhaps she might even be brewing up some steam in there that I'd suffer when we got out of the restaurant. But then, there she was. The sight of Brenda walking towards me was causing an arousal in my pants and heat to flush through my body. The white blouse was even sheerer than it seemed, and when she'd tucked it into the waist of her skirt it pulled against the hard nipples that were very evident. The outline of her dark areolas were perfectly discernable, and the strides she was taking were causing her boobs to bounce and sway just a bit. I looked away from the sight just long enough to confirm that she was indeed being noticed.
As Brenda slid back into the booth I could tell she was a bit flushed but I honestly don't know if it was from embarrassment or excitement, or both. As she slid in the looked at me with pleading eyes and said, "Todd, I don't.."
"Brenda, unbutton the top two buttons."
"But Todd.."
Again I interrupted, "Now, Brenda." She was pleading with her eyes but said nothing else as she slowly reached up not trying to gather attention, and unbuttoned the top two buttons. The blouse was free now down to just between her nipples, which were as erect as I'd ever seen them.
We finished our dinner and before the waiter came to clear our plates and inquire about dessert I instructed Brenda to unbutton two more buttons, which would leave only the last button just above her skirt to hold the blouse together. Brenda said nothing but shot daggers at me with her eyes, finishing the chore just before the waiter arrived. At this point I figured I'd pushed the restaurant bit as far as I could and elected to wait until we left for the next push. I will say, though, that the walk out of the restaurant was quite enjoyable, with her blouse swaying open just enough for glimpses of the mounding of her cleavage.
It was a cool night and still young with lots of people and traffic to negotiate on the way to the car and on the drive out. Deep in the heart of the center city there were many blocks to navigate in close quarters with both adjacent vehicles and pedestrians on the sidewalks. When we got to the car I could tell that Brenda was anxious to get in, both from the exposure and the chill, but I withheld unlocking her door.
