How My Wife Became My Dom

My wife, Julie, and I had been married nearly ten years. We had been happy, our sex life had been good, and finances secure. But lately, the spark was gone. It used to be that when we had sex, it was exuberant, frenetic, sweaty, fuck-till-you-drop raunchy humping. Now, the sex was routine. It was the same thing every time, over and over. Nothing was new and it wasn’t exciting anymore.

This Friday was our tenth wedding anniversary and I thought if I did something special for her we might put some of the fire back into our marriage and sex life. “Julie, I thought we could do something special for our anniversary. Something you want to do.”

Her eyes lit up and a little smile came across her face. “I want to stay in. I want you to make dinner and then I want us to spend the evening together doing what I want.”

“You’re on.” I eagerly accepted hoping the evening would be like the ones we used to have.

“You have dinner ready for us at seven. I have to stop on the way home and pick up a few things,” she explained.

* * *

Friday came and I prepared dinner as I’d agreed. I set the table with flowers, candles, her preferred Merlot, and then waited for her in anticipation of what she had planned.

She arrived home a few minutes before seven carrying several shopping bags. “I’m going to change. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Pour me something to drink,” she said while dashing into the bedroom.

I put dinner on the table, poured the wine, and stared at the closed bedroom door in contemplation of what she was up to. When it opened and Julie stepped into the doorway, my shy, reserved little wife had transformed herself into a seductress. She wore a red corset trimmed with black lace and a tiny pleated, plaid miniskirt. Her long slender legs were accentuated by black, lace trimmed, thigh high stockings and she was wearing stiletto heels. Her wavy auburn hair hung loosely and provocatively about her bare shoulders and her hazel eyes sparkled in the flickering candlelight. I was immediately aroused and arose to embrace her. She put her hand up to stop me as I approached.

“First feed me, then fuck me,” she said in a soft yet demanding voice.

She sat at the table, crossed her legs provocatively with her knees high in the air because of the spike heels, and placed her hands in her lap. I returned to my seat and began to eat.

“What are you doing?” she said in a tone as if scolding me. I looked at her and shook my head in puzzlement. “I told you to feed me, and that’s what I want. Remember the deal for tonight. I get whatever I want.”

Now I understood where she was going with this. I pulled my chair around to the other side of the table and sat facing her. Then I began to feed her as she slowly and lasciviously removed the morsels from the fork. I watched her savor the complex flavors as she chewed, and then lick her lips with the tip of her tongue. I became more aroused from the sensual display and my growing dick was making it uncomfortable to sit, crammed inside my pants as it was.