Something a little different today. I hope you enjoy it.
Every marriage has its ups and downs and for twenty years Judge Michael Reynolds reminded himself of that fact, daily. His wife, Chéri, was the epitome of the perfect suburban wife. Chéri, worked for an advertising agency, raised their twin sons and micromanaged them all to within an inch of their lives. It worked, he assured himself. It didn’t work well, but it worked. He kept his nose to the grindstone and stayed out of her way as best he could, avoiding confrontations and acting as a buffer between her and the boys. Even now he wasn’t sure if he had a mid-life crisis or it had something to do with the boys going off to college, but one day he’d had enough, more than enough! It was time for some new rules and for the first time in a very long marriage he felt capable of enforcing them. Michael tried not to present them as an ultimatum, but Chéri, knew what they were just the same. Her husband was tired of her domineering, controlling ways. While he readily accepted his part of the blame for what their marriage had become, he was not willing to continue with the status quo.
What he wanted shocked her to her core. At the same time, there was a certain aspect of his idea that appealed to her in a way she never would have suspected. You see Michael wanted to take over, everything. He wanted to be the one in charge of their household and especially of her, convinced it would improve their love life as well as their marriage. He wanted to try age-play. They would start slowly, he assured her. On the weekends he would become her daddy. She would leave her troubles and adult responsibilities at the door when she walked in the house on Friday evening. From then on it was his turn to take care of her. He would provide for all her needs, love and care for her and discipline her when the need arose. In return for her obedience, she would be pampered and sexually satisfied in ways only he was aware of.
For sure it was a leap of faith, but Chéri takes it and finds far more than she bargained for as this forty-something couple learns you can teach an old dog, new rules.
DISCLAIMER: This book contains the spanking of adult women, the dynamic of age-play, elements of power exchange, sexually explicit scenes including anal play. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase this book.
Chéri staggered into the kitchen an hour later, barefoot and wearing nothing but a pair of bikini panties and a crop top. Her hair was a total mess, her eye make-up was smeared to the point she resembled a raccoon and she shot him a dismissive glance as she opened the refrigerator and got out the orange juice.
“Just how much longer is this silent treatment expected to last?” he inquired, placing his cup in the sink.
“I have a headache,” she shot back, moving to get a glass from the cupboard. Her fingers worked hard trying to snag it as she stood on her tip-toes.
Michael reached over her head, took it from the cupboard and handed it to her. She did not say thank you. She snatched it from his hand and turned away.
“Having a headache is the least of your worries,” he drawled, setting a bottle of aspirin on the island. She ignored him and poured a glass of juice. Taking the bottle, she opened it and shook several pills into her hand before tossing them back. Then she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Says who?” she demanded.
“Chéri, what day is it?” Michael asked, leaning his forearms on the island and staring at her.
“Sunday, why?” she asked, gulping more of her drink. “And what happens in our home on Sundays?”
“Well,” she replied resting her chin on her hand and staring back at him. “Usually we play sexy games Daddy dreams up, but that was before I knew if I didn’t agree I was likely to become suddenly single,” she finished sweetly. “Now that I know the truth, I’m not so sure I want to play those games with a daddy who was clearly ready to give me up. I thought divorce was a dirty word in this house, Your Honor, but I guess not.”
“I never said I was going to divorce you,” Michael snapped. “I said I was unhappy. You never heard a thing I said because you can’t get past what you wanted to hear. I said I felt useless, unwanted, disrespected, unappreciated and needed to do something about it. In desperation I took matters into my own hands and I’ve never been sorry for a moment. You needed someone to straighten out your priorities and who better than your husband, the man who loves you?” he growled.
“Oh,” she shouted, putting a hand to her head in pain. “I’ve always listened to you, supported you, you block head! Who stuck by you when you decided you didn’t want to be a doctor? Who helped pay the bills while you were in law school? It wasn’t some little girl, it was your wife, the big, bad bitch, that’s who,” she hissed.
“Chéri, we’ve been married over twenty years. We’ve helped each other through many difficult times. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, not a platoon run by an out of control drill sergeant. No, wait, I take that back, it was worse than that. It was a dictatorship with you as the queen and the boys and I your subjects. I’m telling you there had to be a revolution and I organized it. There’s been a coup, pretty baby, and now the shoe is on the other foot. The only
difference is I am not a control freak. I will make sure you’re happy and satisfied, not left out in the cold like I was!”
“You make me sound horrible,” she accused, trying not to cry.
“You were, as much as it pains me to hurt you, you were. But those days are over, honey, behind us. What we have now is so much more. Why can’t you admit it, accept it?” he asked.
“Why are they better?” she demanded, “because now it’s you who has the control, the power?”
“No, you’ve got it all wrong. I only have what you’ve given me, don’t you see that? It’s your submission to me that’s healed me, made me feel like a man again. You’ve given me your love. You trust me to take care of you, to do what’s best for us. Chéri, you’re the woman I fell in love with times ten. I love the softness of you, the tenderness. I adore the way you come to me with your troubles and let me handle them; the way you put your body in my hands and let me lead you to climaxes so passionate you sometimes pass out.
“Don’t even try and tell me you don’t love the life we’ve made. All I have to do is slap your ass and your panties are wet. Do you think I don’t know there are certain words and phrases that make your heart pound and your knees weak? I’m an observant man, my love, and I’ve got your number. I know what turns you on and I know that while you may say otherwise, you love it when I push your limits. Your brain may say something different, but your body never lies. In fact, I think part of the problem is you need more, not less.