"Newlyweds" by Mick Sloane

He did nothing, and she rose to face him, standing above him. He looked at her angrily, and moved to get up. She shook her head in frustration as he rose, placing a hand under his arm, and punching her fist roughly into his soft, tender stomach with the other. She felt her fist sink deep into his stomach, as he gasped and doubled over. She caught him, putting her other arm under his opposite shoulder, holding him up as he sank to his knees. She pulled his body towards her, simultaneously lifting her knee into his chest, hearing him gasp, seeing him drop the cordless phone. She kneed him again, harder, and a third time, harder still. She released him from her hands, and he sank to the floor, moaning and gasping.

She stood above him, and he rose to his hands and knees, trying to crawl away from her. She placed her foot firmly on his back, and forced him down, flat onto his chest. She kept her foot on his back, and stooped down to pick up the phone. Tori lifted her foot off of his back, and sat down on him, firmly, facing his legs. She pulled his shirt up slightly, and slid his briefs down around his legs. She felt him struggle to no avail beneath her, as she sat on him with all of her weight, holding him still with her knees against his sides. She beat his tender, red ass with the phone as he struggled to free himself. She quickly brought him to tears, and he was still. She beat him a few more times, for good measure.

Tori reached down and pulled his briefs back up, and rolled off of him. She pulled him onto her, rolling him over, so that he was facing away from her. She wrapped her legs around his middle, digging her heels into his stomach. She wrapped her arms against his upper body, pulling him in close, his back against her breasts. She whispered in his ear, as he cried. "This is for the best," she said, putting the phone in his hand, squeezing his soft middle in her powerful legs. "Shhh. Don't cry. This is what's best. I will never do anything that isn't what's best for us, my sweet love. You must learn to trust me. Completely. I am your superior. Sometimes I will know what is best when you do not realize it."

He stopped crying, as she squeezed him firmly against her, whispering in his ear. "Now do it," she said, firmly. He complied now, calling his boss at the agency, saying he would not be coming back, no longer needed to work.

"Good boy," she whispered against his ear when he hung up the phone.

"I should have at least given two weeks notice," he said, reluctantly.

She smiled at his efforts to cling to those things that he knew before her. "You needn't worry about burning any bridges, my darling," she said softly, tenderly, holding him firmly between her legs, against her body. "Their opinion of you means nothing anymore. You won't be needing them for a reference. I'm the only reference you will ever need."

She lowered her feet from his belly, brushing them against his erect penis. She lay on her back, with him on top of her, facing away from her. Tori circled her arms under his, and around, behind his head, clasping them, holding his head firm. She continued to play with his erection with her feet, holding his body still, holding his legs between hers. She effortlessly brought him to orgasm in his briefs, withdrawing her feet, holding him still, close against her, feeling his back tense against her breasts, whispering in his ear. She held him motionless in this position for several moments afterwards, allowing him to recover.

Then, Tori moved her legs down, tangling her legs around his, holding them tight. She rolled over, forcing him to do the same. Now he was underneath her, face down, and she was face down on top of him. She pressed her pelvis against his buttocks, and held his legs tangled in hers. She kept his arms locked behind hers, her hands clasped against the back of his head. She began to arch her back, then, stretching him, pulling his upper body off of the floor.

As he began to groan in pain, she brought her head close to his, saying "Shhh. Don't struggle my lover. This is just to keep your attention. I won't break you," and she began to tell him things softly, while she bent him, stretched him beneath her. She explained things to him, taught him what she wanted him to learn.

Tori spent the greater part of the next three days teaching Mark, training him to be the kind of husband she wanted, showing him what would happen when he forgot things, when he disobeyed. When she felt it was necessary, she beat him, crushed him, humiliated him, brought him to tears, made him beg her. She focused on breaking his will, changing the way he thought, forcing him to think only about her and what she wanted. She used her strength, her power, her sexuality, her intellect, her knowledge of men. She taught him to fear her, to trust her, to love her completely, to obey her, to serve her, to worship her.

She taught him how to attend to her, focusing on the specific details. She outlined rituals for him to follow in the morning before she left for work, when she arrived home, and when they went to bed. Tori taught him how and when to do dishes, how to do her laundry, how to clean the bathrooms in their house. She explained how he was to eat, how they would watch television together, how he should behave in public. She would not draw attention to him, or to herself, when they went out. He was simply to be attentive, to defer to her wishes as always. She did her best to explain exactly what was expected of him, and when.

He had a great deal of trouble with the sleeping ritual. He orgasmed each of the first several nights against her tummy, as she lay on top of him. And she was not even trying on these evenings to make him come. The process was just too much for him, at first. Beautiful, nude wife, laying softly on top of him, completely dominant, his hands obediently in her panties, his uncovered erection pressed against her exposed tummy. Still, each time he came on her when she was to be sleeping, she beat him, taking him over her lap, and spanking him with her bare hand, and making him lick her tummy clean. He had to be taught, and he would learn, Tori knew. Certainly, there would be times when she drove him to orgasm in this position, simply because she wanted to beat him. But she could not tolerate this every night. She was pleased, though, that the entire ritual was so arousing for him. It would be another form of power she held over him, another way she would humiliate him.

Mark learned a great deal over those three days. Some of his education was beaten into him, which Tori did with no apologies. All was for his own good, she told him repeatedly, for their mutual happiness. By the end of the weekend, he had progressed a great deal. He clearly feared her, and tried very hard to be obedient, and to remember all that she had taught him. She had done away with his silly male ego, forcing him to change his attitude. Tori had used tenderness and sexuality to conquer him, as well. Not only did he fear her, but he loved her, lusted for her, wanted her approval, her favor.

On the day Tori returned to work, she left wondering what would happen when she arrived home. What shape would the house be in? How would Mark act? She had not been separated from him for weeks, now, and had spent the past four days teaching him, molding him, changing him. He would have a full day to himself now, and she wondered how she would find him when she got home.

When she arrived that evening, Mark was waiting for her, at the door, as she had taught him, on his knees. She stepped in, smiling softly, closing the door. He kissed her feet, as she stood above him. She set her purse and briefcase down, and he fell to his hands and knees. She sat on his back, dangling her legs over his shoulders, her thighs on either side of his head. He walked on his hands and knees, carrying her up the stairs, so she could change out of her business clothes.

As he carried her, she held onto his hair, asking "What's for dinner, my love?"

He slowed for a moment, then continued crawling, "I ..."

She tightened her legs against the sides of his head slightly. "You did make dinner, didn't you, sweet?"

"I didn't know," he stammered, fearfully. "You didn't tell me. I don't know how to cook," he said, trembling beneath her. As they reached the bedroom, she stepped off of him, allowing her pumps to walk rudely over his hands on the floor. He remained silent.

Tori took off her blazer, and hung it up. She removed her belt, and went over to stand by the bed. She looked down at her husband expectantly, arms folded. He quickly rose, and walked over to the bed, laying face down, stretching his arms in front of him to grasp the headboard, holding his feet together.

Tori climbed onto the bed, sitting on his upper back, leaning back on her hand, which she placed on his head. Her weight forced his face rudely into the mattress. She shifted backward, so that she was sitting on his neck, and the lower part of his head, pressing his face against the mattress with her ass. She leaned forward, and pulled his tee-shirt up, pushed his underwear down around his legs, settling her ass back on his head.

She held the belt loosely in her hand, pressing her weight down on his head. "You are right, dear. I did not tell you that I expected dinner when I arrive home." She hit him sharply with her belt. "I should have." She hit him again. "You need to work, little slave, though, on thinking more about me, about my needs." She beat him twice, harshly. "Your job, your duty, is to make every effort to service me, to please me." Tori hit him again, relishing his quiet, pained groan beneath her ass.

"I may have forgotten to tell you other things, as well. You must think, in all things, lover, whether there is any possible way in which you can serve me, or serve me better." She hit him again, and again. "If you do not know how to cook, you had better learn, and learn tomorrow. Never again will I come home without you having dinner ready, and a good dinner, too." She whacked him on the ass, making it red, hearing his muffled grunts. "For tonight, we will order something in."

She moved off of him, and stood by the bed, her hands on her hips, waiting expectantly. He pulled up his briefs, rolling gingerly out of the bed, dropping to his knees. He kissed her feet, each of them, saying "Thank you, my Mistress."

She stroked his head with her fingers, gently, to signify that he was forgiven, and he rose to help her change out of her business clothes. When she was finished, she rode him back down the stairs and into the kitchen to order a pizza.

Tori smiled against her husband's neck, as she lay on top of him, remembering the dinner incident. She was still amazed how much she had accomplished in those first four days. She had accomplished a great deal since, as well, in the month since they had been married.

Mark had become much more comfortable with his role in the relationship, and she had actually become more comfortable and relaxed with hers, as well. Breaking him and teaching him as quickly as she had really made her feel more confident about the degree to which she could control the relationship, and more comfortable that it was the best thing for him as well as her.

He loved the way things were now. She knew he did. She could tell. She could not ask him, of course. She had taught him that his only concern should be for her wants, her desires, that she would in turn make certain that his best interests were served. This is what he would tell her if she asked him whether he were happy.

She felt him breathing beneath her, silently, his hands against her buttocks, his erection against her stomach. She smiled, quietly, and began to stir against him, pulling her leg up possessively over him, rubbing her hair softly on his neck, casually running a hand gently through his hair, tensing her buttocks, shifting her breasts on his chest.

She could feel him getting more and more aroused. She smiled wickedly against his neck. It was true that she looked out for his best interests overall, but there were her interests, too. And she loved beating him. Besides, it was good for him. She continued to make tiny, soft movements against him, smiling as she heard his breathing quicken, her face against his neck. Before long at all, he came against her, holding his breath, tensing his muscles.

She lifted her head off of his neck, and looked down into his face, sternly.

He was blushing, as he always did. "I'm so sorry Mistress," he said hastily, deferentially. "Please forgive me," he continued, shivering slightly.

She looked down into his face, and gently brushed her hand through his hair. "Get my hairbrush, love," she said, rolling off of him, seeing his face fall, slightly, as he quickly went to her dresser, returning to bed with her brush.

He handed Tori her brush, and lay on his stomach, completely nude, feet together, hands clasping the headboard. Tori climbed on top of him, pressing the back of his head firmly into the mattress, and scooting back so she sat on it, forcing his face into the bed. She began beating him with the brush, and beat him soundly, relishing his muffled yelps as she sat on his head, spanking him with her hairbrush. She spanked him until she could hear him weeping against the mattress, beneath her ass.

She got off of him, then, and got up to put her brush back on her dresser, and to wipe his come from her stomach. Tori would normally make him lick it off of her, but she had beaten him cruelly, had made him cry, had been the one to make him orgasm in the first place. And she had enjoyed every moment. Now she returned to bed, taking his head gently, allowing him to rest his head in her lap, weeping softly. She pulled his head upward, holding it against her naked breast, letting him cry against her breast, kissing the top of his head. Feeling him cry against her was almost as arousing as the beating itself.

Once he had settled down, and cleaned himself off, he resumed his position, and she resumed her place on top of him, kissing his neck softly before she settled her head onto it, falling asleep.

When she awoke in the morning, Tori propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at Mark, her husband, her slave. He was awake, as she had expected. She knew he was always awake when she slept. He could not sleep under her that way, and she liked that. It made her feel special, as she certainly was to him. She knew he would sleep for a few hours once she left for work.

She sat up on him, straddling his torso, looking down at his face. He kept still. She withdrew his hands from her panties, laying them at his sides. She rose to her knees on his chest, and pulled her panties down, then sitting back down on him, she pulled them the rest of the way off. She straddled him, feeling his body between her legs. He belonged to her. This was her person between her legs, to do with as she pleased. She slid up, sitting on his chest, just below his neck, putting her knees on either side of his head.

Tori reached onto the night stand for the cordless telephone. She looked down into Mark's face. "I want you to lick me, my darling. I want you to suck me. Do you understand?" she asked. Mark nodded, and Tori slid forward, moving her crotch onto his face, pressing her knees and thighs against the sides of his head. As he began to lick her and kiss her tenderly, obediently, she dialed the office on her cordless phone. She put her other hand on the top of Mark's head, pulling his head in against her crotch.

As her husband serviced her, Tori spoke on the phone to her secretary at the office, explaining that she was running late, that she had been up much of the night, as her husband had not been feeling well. She flexed her thighs firmly against his head as she spoke of him.

When she hung up the phone, Tori focused on Mark, pulling at his hair with both hands, pushing him more firmly against her. As she reached orgasm, she tightened her thighs against his head, and lay back, still squatting on his head, but laying her back and head on his body. She rested, recovered, keeping his face clamped against her ass as she lay on him.

After a few moments, she released her legs, and sat up on him, saying "I had better get going." She got up, walking to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. A moment later, Mark heard the toilet flush. "I'm ready now," Tori called out to him.

Mark quickly got up, and went into the bathroom, still nude, as Tori had mandated. She stood, also without a stitch of clothing, in front of the bathroom sink. He got her toothbrush, squeezed some toothpaste onto it, and drew a cup of water. He stood directly behind her, and she stepped back, standing on his feet with her heels, a nice touch she felt. He could feel her butt against him, and became semi- erect. He had learned to ignore this, and not to be ashamed, as there was nothing he could do about it, and Tori seemed to understand, so long as he did not orgasm, unless that was her wish.

As she stood on his feet, her back against him, facing the bathroom sink and mirror, he reached around the side of her head with the toothbrush and gently brushed her teeth, being careful to do a good job, as she had taught him. When he was finished, he withdrew the toothbrush, setting it on the sink, she leaned forward, her buttocks pressing against him, and spit into the sink. Tori stood back up, and he lifted the water to her lips, carefully pouring it into her mouth. She swished it around, and again leaned forward to spit it into the sink.

Tori stepped off of him, and he quickly rinsed the brush and the cup, putting them away. Next, Mark walked over to the shower and turned on the water, taking care to make certain that he had exactly the right temperature. Tori walked into the shower stall, the water splashing over her body. Mark followed her, dropping to his knees as soon as he entered the stall, kneeling behind her, his face inches from her butt. She handed him her shaving cream and razor, and he went to work immediately applying a lather of shaving cream to her firm, powerful legs. He shaved her legs, on his knees, taking great care not to cut her legs with the razor, as that sort of carelessness would not be tolerated.

When he had finished shaving her legs, and risen to shave under her arms, he again sank to his knees, using a washcloth to wipe away the excess lather. He applied body soap to her legs, her feet, her buttocks, her crotch, and carefully rinsed her clean with a washcloth. He stood then, washing her back with the same great care. She stepped back, standing on his feet, her butt touching his erection, her damp hair touching his face and shoulders. He washed her arms, her stomach, her shoulders, her neck. He washed her breasts, and they were firm and the nipples erect beneath his touch. Throughout the process, he was gentle, thorough, not missing an inch of her body. She stepped off of his feet, and turned around to face him, closing her eyes. He applied special soap to her face, rubbing it in gently, around her nose and mouth, her forehead, her cheeks, behind her ears, rinsing it off well with the washcloth when he had finished.

Tori stood under the water, allowing it to soak her long, red hair. Mark shampooed her hair, thoroughly, and she stood under the water, letting the shampoo rinse out of her hair. He applied conditioner then, and again she rinsed it out. Mark turned off the shower, reaching out of the stall for a towel. He dried her face and hair, rubbing the towel thoroughly against her head, then wrapping her hair in it snugly. Mark withdrew for a second towel, and carefully dried her body, starting at the neck, working his way down, dropping to his knees to dry her legs, her butt, her feet. He dried himself briefly with the same towel, and stepped out of the shower stall.

Tori followed him, and held her arms out, so he could put her bathrobe on her, which he did, tying it firmly at the waist. He knelt down to put slippers on each of her feet, as she lifted them for him. She walked out of the bathroom, then, sitting on the edge of the bed, drawing up her robe as she sat, exposing her legs. Mark knelt before her at the side of the bed, gently rubbing body lotion on her firm, toned, muscular legs, the legs she had used to crush him, to defeat him, to bring him to tears on so many occasions.

She stood then, removing her bathrobe, lifting her legs one at a time so that he could put on her panties and her hose. She lifted her arms, so that he could put on her bra, as he stood behind her. Tori told him what outfit she wanted to wear, and Mark quickly went to her closet, returning to her with it. He held out her skirt, so that she could step into it, and he zipped it behind her. He put Tori's blouse on her, carefully fastening the buttons in front. He ran the belt through the loops of the skirt, fastening it at her waist. He hung the blazer on the door, as Tori would not want to put it on until he had finished dressing her.

When he had finished, Tori sat in her dresser chair, and Mark unwrapped the towel from her hair. He brushed it thoroughly, but very cautiously, careful not to cause her any discomfort. She sat still, watching expectantly as he used the blow-dryer to dry her hair, applying hair spray, styling it as she had taught him.

When he finished her hair, Tori stood, and Mark turned her dresser chair sideways, sitting in it himself, still nude. She sat on his lap, then, sideways, so that she was facing her dresser and mirror. He carefully applied makeup to her face, using the mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick she specified. He put on her earrings, necklace, and bracelets, as she sat on his lap, telling him which ones she wished to wear.

She stood, then, and he put Tori's blazer on her, and quickly put on a pair of briefs and a tee-shirt himself. She stood in the doorway, and he dropped to his knees, kissing her feet. As she was wearing a skirt, she would not ride on his back, this morning. He picked her up, and carried her through the house, down the stairs, placing her in her chair at the dining room table, pushing her chair in once he had placed her in it. Mark walked quickly to the front door, then, stepping out on the porch for the newspaper.

He returned with it, unwrapping it, and setting it on the table for Tori. He leafed through the sections, finding the business section, and placing it on top. As Mark retreated into the kitchen to make her breakfast, Tori read the newspaper, sitting comfortably in her chair at the dining room table. She heard him in the kitchen, and smelled the coffee he was brewing.

He returned a few minutes later, with a cup of coffee for her, two sugars, no cream. He brought her a glass of orange juice, with one ice cube, a bowl of cereal, with one-half cup of skim milk, a toasted bagel with cream cheese. He placed these items before her on the table, as she continued reading the paper. He did not bring food for himself. He would eat later, after he had finished serving Tori, after she had gone to work.

He sat down on the floor next to her chair, as she took a drink of her coffee. She lifted herself out of her chair, slightly, and he slid his hand beneath her, palm side down. She sat back down, on top of his hand. He would remain on the floor, next to her chair, as she sat on his hand, eating the breakfast he had prepared, reading the newspaper he had retrieved for her, until Tori was finished with her breakfast. She ate and continued to read the paper, leaning over occasionally to pet him on the head, affectionately. She offered him bites of her bagel, which she broke off for him, and he accepted them. He would eat breakfast later, but Tori enjoyed feeding him as she sat at the table, and so he liked it, too. Feeding him pleased her so, and he loved to please her.

When she finished, Tori stood, and Mark quickly rose and brought her purse and brief case. As he carried her to the door, she told him what she wanted for dinner, and reminded him of several projects around the house which they had discussed last night during her dinner. When they arrived at the door, Mark set her on her feet, and dropped to his knees, kissing each of her buttocks softly through her skirt. Tori turned around and smiled down at him, warmly, running her hand through his hair affectionately, and then she left for work.

As Tori drove herself to work, she thought about how completely wonderful it was to own a man, as she did. He attended to her every need at home. She slept on him, she sat on him. He bathed her, dressed her, fed her, carried her, cleaned for her. She owned him completely. She could beat him, tease him, use him sexually, anything she wished. And he loved her, worshipped her. She loved him, as well. She provided for him, and always would, and protected him, and taught him. He could never have become what he had become without her.

Tori felt herself becoming aroused, as she drove her car. She knew she had to turn her thoughts to something else, or she might reach orgasm right there in her car. It had happened before. Her complete, total power and control over a formerly strong and independent man was absolutely intoxicating. Tori wished more women could experience what she had. The world would be such a better place, she thought, if all men were trained to be like her Mark, her husband, her love, her dear little slave.