Chapter 3

Laying Down the Law

I’ve just caught my precious young husband of less than a week cheating on me!

Well, maybe not actively, technically cheating. What he’s been doing is looking at pornography on the internet, and masturbating to it. But that’s just as bad as cheating, in my book.

Number one, he should never be looking at or thinking about, much less lusting after, any woman at all other than his wife, right? Am I not more alluring to him than any other woman in the world? He can bet his sweet ass I am! With my thick, wonderfully lustrous black hair, naturally huge and firm and upswept breasts, long strong legs, trim flat belly, big muscular butt and incredibly lovely face I am stunningly gorgeous. Number two, he should never, ever be touching himself like that! His entire life, sexual, social and otherwise, should revolve completely around me. That kind of secret, solitary pleasure is a betrayal of the most fundamental kind. He has fucked up big-time!

But that’s actually all right, in a way, at least this once. This great sin of his has presented me with the perfect opportunity to implement all of my carefully made plans, to establish precisely the right kind of relationship that we must have now that we’re finally married. I have actually been waiting for and dreaming of this day for all my life, and here it is at last. From this moment onward I shall own my carefully groomed and chosen mate absolutely. His every waking thought and deepest sleeping dream shall henceforth always be about pleasing me. I’ve already accumulated everything I need to captivate and dominate him permanently. It’s all hidden away in my closet, just waiting for this magic moment. Now it’s finally time to get to work on making this the most perfect marriage ever imagined!

Slim young Timmy stands before me, shamefaced and fidgeting. His eyes are downcast; his pants around his ankles and his formerly urgent erection drooping sadly as I wind up my lecture on the above points.

“Do you understand me boy? If you want to keep me as your wife, you have to honor your marriage vows always and completely. You swore to love, honor, cherish, and above all obey me every minute of every day for the rest of your life. Looking at other women, even on a computer screen, is an unpardonable sin against me. Playing with your penis is even worse, and doing them together! Frankly I’m speechless. You have been an appallingly naughty boy. It’s obvious to me that this relationship needs to be formalized around some strict new parameters. Now, do want to remain my husband?”

“Yes ma’am,” Timmy meekly husks, still unable to look me in the face.

Oh how perfect he is! Of course I always knew it would be like this. Timmy has been a wimpy little mamma’s boy his entire life. I know, because I’ve been a good friend and mentor to his teenage single mother since before he was even born. I’ve watched him grow up tiny, timid, meek and submissive; stunted in all the right ways and always caught squirming helplessly under the firm thumb of his pitilessly domineering mother.

Wholly approving, even secretly delighted, I constantly encouraged her as she methodically molded little Timmy into the perfect kind of man for me. Then, when she fortuitously began failing and ultimately died of cancer last month, I stepped right into her place. After providing years of comfort and emotional support I wasted no time at all in first seducing and then quickly marrying the reticent little eighteen year-old virgin my best friend had left behind.

Just in time, too. At thirty-seven I am nearly twice Timmy’s age and yet still in my gorgeous prime, perfectly suited to assume the role of sexual superior slash mother-surrogate, the ultimate authority figure in his life on every psychological level. He has been perfectly bred and conditioned to succumb to me absolutely. And after this most incredible night he will be my slave for life.

“Does that mean you will now obey me instantly in everything? That you will always devote your every last energy toward keeping me happy, and above all sexually fulfilled until the day I die? That in addition to vigorous sexual service you will also do all the housework, all the cooking and cleaning and everything else, and also incessantly pamper me every day of my life?”

“Of course, beautiful Susan. Whatever I have to do to keep you happy I swear I will. I love you unstintingly!”

“Good! You are a very good boy. To start with then, I don’t want you to ever call me Susan again. You don’t deserve such familiarity. From now on you will address me respectfully as Ma’am at all times. I don’t want you to ever forget my total authority over you, not even for an instant. Is that understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good. Now, take the rest of your clothes off and sit on the foot of the bed. We need to make sure you are never tempted to cheat on me in any way ever again. Then, after I punish you for your wicked act of double betrayal today, we will have some supremely fulfilling sex. I will teach you once and for all about the devilish delights a dominant older woman like me can have in her repertoire! Believe me, when I’m through with you tonight boy, you won’t ever think for an instant about sex with some nasty little anonymous internet strumpet again!”

Without another word Timmy obeys me, his penis now completely limp with appropriate chagrin. Perfect. From my secret stash in the closet then I withdraw the chastity belt I’ve chosen for him. Then I return to where he waits respectfully naked on the edge of the bed.

Poor five-foot six-inch Timmy is so naïve he only watches perplexedly as I strap the wide leather belt about his waist. But then I poke his limp penis into the down-curving metal sleeve, tighten the steel restraint about the base of his balls and then lock everything up tight. At last he gapes his understanding up at me.

“Yes boy,” I confirm for him. “This is a chastity belt. From now on you can’t fuck, masturbate or even have an erection unless I allow it.” Grinning at his appalled dismay I place the key on a chain and hang it around my neck.

I will never use it again of course, but he doesn’t know that. Let its constant presence between my breasts be a daily torment, reminder, and insurance of his eternal obedience. To that end I fondle the protruding head of his cock and gently squeeze his never-again-to-be-emptied balls as I husk seductively down at him.

“Now your sex life is entirely under my control. Every little bit of pleasure – or relief from pain – you experience from now on is entirely up to me. If you don’t please me extravagantly and absolutely every single minute of every single day of my life, then the two times we’ve fucked so far and all of your filthy earlier teenaged masturbation will be the only orgasmic release you will experience in all your life. You’ll otherwise be relegated to just eating my pussy and satisfying my more bizarre, truly overwhelming carnal cravings. So you’d better be good, huh, you little slut-boy?”

Leaving him gaping at his throbbing, imprisoned genitals then, and contemplating the fifty-plus years of chastity likely lying ahead of him, I quickly gather up the two big pillows from the head of the bed and stack them atop each other in the exact middle. Then I retrieve my riding crop from the closet. Smacking this suggestively against my palm, I strut back over to my suddenly fearfully cringing young husband.

“Yes boy,” I gloat, flying high on how well everything is progressing so far. “It’s definitely punishment time. I want you to lie down atop those pillows, with your guilty little locked-up cock pressed into them and your vulnerable ass up high in the air!”

Poor Timmy can’t believe what’s happening to him. His gaze rises from his imprisoned penis to my black leather crop to finally fasten imploringly on my stern, implacably lovely face.

“Do…do I have to?” he finally whimpers.

“Of course you do!” I snarl back. “I just told you so, didn’t I? My word is law around here, have you forgotten that already? Now do it, and don’t you dare question me again! You have been extremely naughty, and you need to be punished severely for that. Don’t try and tell me that your mother never beat you when you were bad!”

“All the time,” Timmy snivels, tears running freely. “She beat me with her hairbrush, with a wooden spoon, or even a leather belt. She slapped me around, twisted my ears and nipples, and even made me wear a clothespin down…down there whenever I had an erection. But she never…she never really whipped me… not with one of those.”

The terrified glance he shoots at my crop then just hammers at all my most sadistic inner buttons, and I can’t help but laugh out loud at poor naïve little Timmy. Quickly I revert to my most menacing character however.

“Well I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you Timmy. I am not your mother. I am your new wife and Mistress for life, your very own domestic dominatrix. As such I’m going to do all those cruel things your mother did to you, but much worse. I’m going to put dozens of clothespins on your cock, and your balls too. I’m going to whip you and beat you with every implement conceivable. And then I’m going to discipline you in ways she never even dreamed of.

“I bet she never tied you up, did she Timmy? Well I’m going to do it to you all the time. That cock-lock is just the start. I’m going to keep you in bondage around the clock! But right now, this very minute, I still have to whip your sexy little ass to ribbons for cheating on me. So you lie facedown atop those pillows like your Mistress ordered you to right now! I am not going to tell you again!”

Whimpering with distress, clearly terrified by this turn of events, Timmy nonetheless does as he’s told. A slave to his upbringing, he is now most unequivocally a slave to me as well. Once he’s in position I step up next to him, and without further warning or ceremony I swat his lovely little ass as hard as I can. Timmy yelps with pain, and his hands leap to rub and protect himself.

“No!” I order immediately. “Put your hands on top of your head and keep them there! This ass belongs to me, and I refuse to let you touch it without permission.”

Trembling with trepidation Timmy obeys. But the second I swat him with the crop again he loses control, and again tries to rub the sting away.

That’s it, I grimly decide. Two strikes and you’re out. I return to the closet, where the trick panel stands open, revealing my extensive secret stash. Quickly I select a short, stout belt of heavy black leather. I climb back onto the bed and kneel next to piteously quivering Timmy.