Chapter 22: The Story

The Story

The kitchen smelled of soft spices and warm spaghetti sauce, cooking. The lights glowed gently, seeming to grow brighter as the outside’s sun light faded into the darkness of twilight. She stood next to the counter, studying the recipe for the home made sauce. Her eyes were grazing, but her mind was racing back to just a few hours ago, when she had told her husband of the dream she had had, and how she wanted it to come true.

She sighed and looked behind her, making sure he wasn’t around. If he had been, she wouldn’t have gently pressed herself against the cupboard’s handle below her, at just the right level to frustrate her. She imagined it was his hard body she was pressing against, and temporarily satisfied, she moved to the refrigerator to get some of the ingredients she needed.

He rose from the living room as he heard her rustling about the kitchen. He knew she didn’t expect him to ‘attack’ her so soon after her telling him about her fantasy, and that’s why he was going to do it right then. He removed his shoes silently, and peeked around the corner to see if she was paying attention to anything but herself. Assured that she was oblivious, he sidled up behind her and laced his left arm around her to cover her mouth with his hand, and his other hand down to her waist, pulling her back against him to meet his midsection.

“Don’t say a fucking word, wench.” He hissed into her ear. “Got it?” He looked around at the area he had chosen to take her in. The wooden spoon she had to mix the sauce was lying on the counter, unused. It would come into use later, he decided.

“Okay –“ She began to say, and he realized his hand had drifted off of her mouth to run his fingers along her neck. He pushed his hand against her mouth again.

“I said not a fucking word!” His right hand wandered mercilessly, pushing against her through her pants, pulling her closer and closer to his erection, already beginning to bulge through his jeans. His hand wandered up to the button of her pants and began to undo it.

“Put your hands on the wall. Now.” He ordered her, pushing her upper half forward until her hands reached out to touch the wall. He slid his left hand back down to her neck, pushing her hair out of the way, behind her shoulder. He drew his mouth close to her ear and gave her the next direction.

“Good girl.” She could feel the moisture in his breath, and it was exciting her. She hadn’t expected it this soon. “Stay still. If you move, you’ll regret it. See that spoon? You will be spanked with it. And then fucked. In the ass.”

“With the spoon?”

“With the fucking spoon.” His hand came down on her ass for the first time. “Don’t talk!”

“Okay.” She squeaked, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to speak. His hand came down on her ass.

“Did I ask you to speak?”

“No sir.” She repeated, being purposely insolent. He hit her again, and she shook her head no, ‘learning’ quickly.

“Stay.” He repeated, as if she were a dog, and released her midsection. She stayed perfectly still, unable to see him go to the other side of the kitchen. She heard water running, but could not see him get the drink of water that he had wanted in the first place. When he was finished, he returned to her, spoon in hand. He set it down on the counter next to them.

He unzipped her jeans, and pulled them down to her feet. Still as a mouse, she waited. Each second was like a second closer to an orgasm for her, even though she was not getting touched. That was the beauty of being dominated – the mind did most of the work for you, leaving you just aching to be touched. She began to remove the rest of her pants when the spoon came down on her ass, emitting a large crack on her bare skin.

“I said don’t fucking move. If I wanted them off, I’d make you take them off.”

She nodded silently. He hit her again.

“You answer me when I make a comment.”

“Yes, sir.” She said, amiably.

“Didn’t I tell you not to speak?” He asked her, voice deep and husky. She nodded. As expected, the spoon came down again.

“That’s not fair!” She complained, staying still as the spoon smacked against her thighs this time.

“You better be glad I want to fuck you, not spank you, right now.” He said. “Take your jeans all the way off. Bend over as you do it. Your panties, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

She bent over, trying not to bend her knees as she wiggled out of her jeans and panties. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel her eyes on him.

“Spread your legs and touch the wall with your hands.” He helped position her. Then -