Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“You feel that, doll?” At her frantic nod when I grind into her, I tell her, “Me.” My hand tightens a little around her throat as I lick along the salty shell of her ear. “I would spend every cent of my hard-earned money to see this.” My free hand fills itself with her soft flesh, first over her sports bra, and then beneath it so I can feel the weight of her breast. My cock hardens even more.
She whimpers, so I loosen my grip on her neck slightly, hearing her suck in a breath before she moans quietly when my other hand trails from her tit to her hip. My fingers dig in there, and like my good little doll, she gives in to my subtle shifts in pressure leading her to bend over the kitchen island.
A flashback of our first time together fills my mind, and I smirk as I glimpse the package of chicken next to where I have my wife’s face now pressed to the cold marble.
I bend over her back, pushing the air out of her lungs with my weight. “What have I told you about speaking badly about my wife’s body?”
She nods. “I’m sorry. I just meant I’m weak. I promise, Master.” Her breathy voice and the rush of words make me groan, and if I didn’t hear the pitter-patter of little feet heading in our direction, I would’ve dropped Twyla’s shorts to feel if she was as wet as my pre-cum has made me. Instead, I quickly shift my hand from her neck to her shoulder and help her stand up, wrapping both my arms around my woman tightly in a hug and kissing her cheek as she settles against my front once again.
We learned long ago that physical closeness after submitting is a necessity for my wife. Otherwise, she experiences debilitating sub-drop, which she can’t control. The few times I had to rush to work right after an enthusiastic quicky, she wasn’t able to get out of bed. At first, I joked that I wore her out so good she couldn’t move after I left. But when she elaborated that it almost felt like a depressive episode, like she was suddenly overcome with sadness and loneliness and felt like she just didn’t have the drive to get up—not referring to physical strength—I knew right away what she was experiencing.
Even though I was never one to have to worry about aftercare with my previous submissives, I understood and recognized sub-drop from my years of devouring every morsel of information pertaining to this lifestyle. It’s why, before Twyla, I always discussed with the sub before playing that, if they wanted, another Dominant could come in right after a scene, so they could receive proper aftercare, just not from me.
But this is my wife. Mine. And with this little bit of aftercare—that I have no problem giving my amazing woman, since I’ll use any excuse just to touch her—it assures her I’m not mad at her, that my aggression came from my lust for her, and that she did a good job allowing me to dominate her. She gets all of that, not a single word spoken, just from a tight and prolonged hug, which is easily done right in front of our little girl as she walks in asking about a snack.
“You can have some goldfish crackers, baby, but not a lot. Dinner will be ready fast,” Twyla tells her, her voice a little shaky but clear. When Luna skips over to the pantry to grab one of the individual packs of Flavor Blasted Goldfish, I feel my wife give me all her weight, allowing herself to fully relax, knowing I’ve got her. Luna brings the red bag over to us, and Twyla opens the perforated packaging easily before handing it back to our girl. Then she hurries off to her room once again, completely clueless of what’s really going on, merely thinking Daddy is just giving Mama love like he always does.
After a moment of soaking each other in, Twyla puts her weight back on her feet and taps my forearm, telling me she’s all good. I loosen my hold enough so she can spin to face me, and I link my fingers behind her back, not ready to let her go quite yet.
“Did Doc tell you where I was going today?” she asks, reaching up to push her glasses up her nose.
“He said you were going with Astrid to try out Crystal’s pole-dancing workout. I assume she’s the one who gave you the education on the Las Vegas showgirl scene?” I prompt, being elusive about everything I know that pertains to her assignment today. The last thing I want to do is embarrass Twyla or make her feel anything negative about getting help for something she felt more comfortable seeking from a professional. While I wish she’d open up to me about what she’s feeling, I know that will come in time, when she’s ready. I’m just thankful I have the heads-up I do, so I can be conscious of not making matters worse and by subtly helping in any way I can, as her husband and as her Dom.