Amy rubbed her fingers through her blond hair as she looked at her watch. It was eight-thirty, already too late for a night out.
Where was Mike? Where was her husband?
She had tried calling him, texting him, everything but smoke signals.
"He's cheating on me," she thought angrily to herself. "He's cheating on me on our anniversary."
Amy could think of no other explanation. Why would he miss this of all nights? She had reminded him to be home on time, that it was their special day.
She looked down at her slender hips and ample breasts. Was she not sexy enough after twelve years? She had tried to keep up, even look younger than she really was. Was it not enough?
Her insecurities began to invade her thoughts as she drifted back and forth from her delusion to the reality that her husband was almost four hours late from work.
"Honey," her husband's words broke her from her dreamlike state, "I'm sorry I'm late."
Amy fumed.
Late was one thing. Four hours late on your anniversary was quite another.
"Late," Amy stood up and smiled, "you're not late, you're three hundred and sixty four days and twenty hours early."
Amy watched his expression drop as he stood there speechless.
"I'm sorry," Mike finally stammered. "I don't know how to make it up to you."
"Make it up to me?" Amy snapped, "you can't get back our anniversary now. It's past."
She glared at him he fumbled with his coat through the moment of silence.
"What can I do?" he moved closer to her but she pushed him away forcefully, "I want to make it up to you. I'm so sorry."
"You can start by washing all that whore juice off of you," Amy quipped, "and then if I've cooled down we can talk."
Amy watched his expression droop as he stood there shaking his head "no". What was he thinking? Who was she?
Amy wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"If I shower," Mike almost whispered, "then can we talk?"
"I don't know," she both said aloud and wondered to herself, "we'll see."
She watched his he slumped his head and slowly walked away. Why was she so mean? What had come over her? It wasn't like her.
Part of her wondered what she did wrong? Why was he looking somewhere else? Infidelity is a symptom of a problem, not the problem itself.
She heard the steam of water from the shower start.
Or was it?
It was like she was waking up. How many times had he cheated before this and she had not noticed? If she caught him this time, there surely were others. He was always coming home at odd hours, one day five, the next ten.
How many times? Thinking about it was making her crazier and crazier with jealousy and hatred until she stormed off toward the bathroom.
"How many times?" Amy stood there staring at her husband through the steamy shower door, "how many Mike?"
"I don't know what to say," Mike stammered, rinsing the soap from his eyes. "I don't honey."
The response sent her over the edge. She grabbed her razor and some strawberry scented gel and shoved it into the shower.
"Here," she commanded, "I want you to look like a swimmer when you're done. What do you think she'll say about that if she sees you again?"
"Honey I didn't," Mike started.
"Take them or I'm walking out the door right now," Amy pushed the items further into the shower. "And don't forget the backside."
Mike hesitantly grabbed the gel and razor and began shaving.
Amy stood and watched, soon a calming sense of power began to come over her.
"If you put a little less gel on you'll get better results," she smiled smugly as she watched Mike slather the gel on his chest. "I'd also start with the most sensitive areas, razors get dull fast."
Amy was torn when she saw his shaft stiffening, she wanted to humiliate him not turn him on, but at the same time the sight of his hard shaft made her lust for his touch.
"Is this enough?" Mike rolled the water over his body revealing his poor attempt at shaving his legs.
Amy laughed.
"Honey," Amy shook her head "no", "you'll need to get all of the hair, not just two or three strands."
With each stroke she watched some of her anger subside and turn into something she couldn't quite understand. It felt powerful in a way she had yet to feel in her life. She had never once told someone to do something. She may had suggested or coerced, but never forced someone to follow her command.
Now was the first time she felt any control in her life and it was intoxicating.
How many times had she done what he had wanted? Or her parents and siblings? It was time for her to wake up and take charge of her life.
"How does it feel?" She handed him a towel when it was finally finished, "I think you did a good job for your first time."
Amy watched as he quickly covered his body with the towel.
"What are you embarrassed?" She tugged at the towel and feigned peaking at his body.
"Can we talk now?" Mike almost begged, "Please?"
Without answering Amy grabbed his towel and tugged him all the way through the house to the kitchen.
"Sit down," she pointed to the seat she usually sat in as she deftly removed the towel from his hips and tossed it aside.
Amy sat down and soaked in the sight of her naked, completely shaved husband sitting in front of her, the power becoming more and more intoxicating with each moment. He used to look so strong, but now he was so adorable with his short brown hair, the deep blue eyes, glistening shaved body. So adorable and so small and weak.
She didn't care now that he had cheated, she only wanted him to feel the humiliation he so deserved for doing it.
"Honey, I don't know what to say," Mike stammered excruciatingly slowly, "I was late because I..."
With each word, each pause, Amy's nerves grew more and more on edge. How could he have done this to her on her anniversary?
"Look," Amy interrupted, "what's done is done. I just can't believe you would do it today of all days."
She looked him over. He looked so scared and small to her and that only made her feeling of grandeur grow.
"I hope your day was worth the ramifications," she continued, "because there are going to be a lot of changes from now on."
Amy surged with power, she could see him cower at her words, almost whimper, each word driving more and more humiliation deeper and deeper into him. He was going to know how it felt to be humiliated on his anniversary, just like she knew.
"Can I just get dressed and then we can talk," Mike mustered the energy to beg. "Please."
"You can just sit there and listen like a good little boy," Amy shook her head no and smiled. "We can come to an agreement and then we'll see what you can can do."
Amy watched him sit there in torment. A pang of guilt came over her as she noticed a tear running down his cheek, but she quickly remind herself of her many tears. No, this wasn't enough.
"How do you feel like that," Amy nodded at him. "Does it feel good to be all silky smooth?"
"I feel embarrassed," Mike rushed his hands over his body to cover anything he could and let out a gentle sob, "What has come over you?"
Amy felt she had won but something inside of her wasn't letting her stop.
"How do you think I felt waiting for you," Amy asked annoyed. "You'll get used to it. As for the changes around here."
Amy moved her chair closer to Mike and felt the tension in his body slowly subside as she gently touched brushed the teach from his cheek with her hand. He was her scared little boy.
"I don't want this to happen again honey," Amy feigned compassion, "I want us to be happy and together."
"Honey you don't understand," Mike begged.
"Yes I do sweetie," she reached out and massaged his leg, amazed at how smooth and silky they felt.
Then she let her hand drift over his thighs, up to his hips then his shaft. A shock ran through as she felt it jolt back and forth as her fingers shift around it, feeling his newly freed skin.
"If you shave like this everyday," Amy hesitated and let her finger slide gently up the length of his silky soft shaft, "and wear cute little panties to work, I figure you'll be too embarrassed to come home late again."
Amy watched his face turn away in torment as she kept running the finger gently up and down the now stiffening shaft. She shifted her body nearer to him, feeling her power grow as he slid deeper and deeper into the chair.
"Please honey," Mike moaned, "I don't want to like this."
