Amy's Bitch Ch. 03

**Author's note: this is a BDSM story concerning a husband and wife who both get sexual pleasure from her domination of him. If that doesn't interest you, don't read this.**

　　It was summer. The slow death of summer, with the shadows lengthening by the day. Outside, a lawnmower droned somewhere in the warren of suburban streets. The day's heat had dissipated as the afternoon aged, and the air hung still and hazy. I was right where I wanted to be: between Amy's legs.

　　Not that she gave me much choice. My wife, Amy, rules completely in the bedroom. Ever since she discovered this kink of mine, and hers, she has steadily tightened her grip on our sex life. And I love it.

　　We spent much of today shopping. It's a new way she's discovered to tease and torment me; to drag me from store to store while she tries on clothes and shoes and treats me like her errand boy. "Fetch this in a smaller size," she'll order, and off I go to bring her what she wants. Knowing how I like to see her in sexy shoes and boots, she loves to take me to the shoe store and parade around in outrageous heels. "If you're good today," she'll say with that devious smile she's developed, the one that makes my chest tighten, "maybe I'll let you pick out something for me to wear. With my approval, of course." Of course.

　　I must have been good today, because she did let me buy her a pair of boots. Knee high, black patent leather, with a five inch heel, laces up the front and buckles on the side. Amy's closet is rapidly filling with sexy footwear, but these boots might be the hottest pair yet.

　　"I bet you can't wait to see me in those boots, can you?" she asked as we drove home.

　　"No, I can't," I said eagerly.

　　"The thing is, they're not very comfortable."

　　"That's ok; you won't be doing much walking in them." She laughed.

　　"That's true. And if I need anything, I can just send you, and you'll run to fetch whatever I want like a good boy, won't you?"

　　"Y-yes," I said. When she talks like this, I know what's going to happen. I can hear the change in her voice, from the loving wife I have in public to the hypersexual mistress that dominates me behind closed doors.

　　"Yes what?" she said softly, without looking at me. I knew what she wanted.

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I replied.

　　"Louder!" she abruptly shouted.

　　"Yes Miss Amy!" I yelled. From the corner of my eye, I saw her smile. She turned in the passenger seat and leaned against me.

　　"Such a good boy," she purred in my ear, and I felt her hand on my crotch. "So excited to be my little bitch again, aren't you?"

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said, my voice cracking as she rubbed her palm in a small circle against my rapidly hardening cock.

　　"Say it then," she demanded.

　　"Miss Amy, I am very excited to be your little bitch," I said.

　　"And you're going to do exactly as you're told."

　　"And I'm going to do exactly as I'm told."

　　"For the rest of the weekend, you exist only for my pleasure."

　　"I exist only for your pleasure, Miss Amy." I groaned as she abruptly took her hand away.

　　"That's enough of that. We don't want you to get too excited and make a mess, do we?"

　　"No, Miss Amy."

　　"God, I'm wet." I heard her fidget in her seat, and struggled to keep my eyes on the road.

　　"Here," she said, and held a finger to my lips. I could smell her on it. I put my lips around it and tasted her arousal. She giggled.

　　"Just can't get enough, can you, slut?"

　　"No Miss Amy, I can't."

　　"Well", she said, and shifted in her seat again, "better hurry then. If I make myself cum before we get home, I guess I don't need you after all, do I?"

　　From the corner of my eye, I saw her hand slip inside her tight-fitting jeans. The car began to fill with the smell of pussy and the sound of her quiet moans as she masturbated right next to me.

　　It was the fastest we ever made it home from that mall, but it felt like forever.

　　I swung into our driveway carelessly and killed the engine. Amy withdrew her hand from her pants. Her face was flushed, and her breathing a little faster than normal.

　　"You're in luck," she smiled. "We just about made it. But now you owe me an orgasm."

　　"Of course," I grinned.

　　"Ok," she said as her breathing slowed, "I'm going inside. Bring all the bags in, then strip and wait for me. I want you naked and on your knees by the time I'm ready, understand?"

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said. I had a feeling that would be all I'd be saying for the next day and a half.

　　"Come around here and open my door for me." She's good at this, finding little ways to reinforce her power over me, the tiny humiliations that excite us both so much. Like any good chauffeur, I got out and walked around the car to open her door.

　　"Do my pants back up," she ordered. I bent down and reluctantly pulled up the zipper on those skintight jeans as she watched, smiling up at her obedient husband. I offered her my hand and helped her out of the car. Without a word, she strode inside. I gathered up her shopping bags and hurried after her.

　　The bedroom door was closed. Quickly, I set the bags down and tore off my clothes. I'm not scared of Amy, my wife of seven years. She loves me as much as I love her. But Miss Amy? I'll admit that I'm a little bit scared of Miss Amy.

　　I waited, and waited. Kneeling naked on the floor as instructed, my erection pointing towards the bedroom door, towards her. She likes to keep me waiting.

　　After what seemed like an hour but was probably five minutes, the bedroom door opened. Amy stepped out, her red curls floating free around her shoulders. Her pale breasts were held high on her chest by a black push-up bra that laced up the front. I watched, mesmerized, as she walked towards me, her double D breasts jiggling with every step. She wore nothing else. The slight red dusting of her pubic hair was perfectly visible. My only disappointment was that she was barefoot.

　　She stopped in front of me, and dropped a pair of panties on the floor where I knelt. I recognized them as the ones she wore to go shopping.

　　"You've made a mess of those," she said sternly. "You're going to have to clean them."

　　"Yes Miss Amy," I said.

　　"Put them in your mouth," she ordered. I balled up the damp underwear and pushed it between my teeth. I could taste her juices through the thin fabric.

　　"That's better," she smiled down at me. "You're not here to talk, are you?"

　　"No Miss Amy," I tried to say, but all that came through the panties was a series of muffled grunts. Amy laughed at me as she sat on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and depriving me of the sight of the pussy I could taste on my tongue.

　　"Alright, slut," she sneered, "you wanted those boots so badly. Crawl over there and get them, then crawl back here and put them on me."

　　Naked, crawling, with her damp panties in my mouth as a gag, I was ecstatic. I quickly removed the boots from their box and brought them to her. I took her extended foot in my hands reverently and slid the boot on. Then I began the task of lacing them tightly, from the top of her foot to just below her knee. Then I buckled the five buckles over the laces, drawing the boots even tighter. The shiny black leather clung to her legs and feet like a second skin. She flexed her foot, admiring the boot for a moment. Then she recrossed her legs so that her other foot was raised, and I began the process again. All the while, she stared cooly down at me, a slight smile on her face.

　　"That's right," she said quietly, almost to herself, "fix my shoes for me, bitch."

　　When I was done, I sat back, my hands at my sides. She stood up and tried a few steps in the tall heels.

　　"What do you think?" she asked. I stared helplessly up at her, and she laughed.

　　"That's right," she said, "nice and quiet. Sluts like you should be seen and not heard. I bet you'd like to kiss these boots, wouldn't you?"

　　I nodded eagerly.

　　"You'd lick them, too, if I told you to, wouldn't you?"

　　I nodded again.

　　"Such a little pervert. I think it's time for these, don't you?" She'd brought the handcuffs from the bedroom. She stood above me with the cuffs dangling from a single finger, her other hand on her hip, her red hair tumbling down to her irresistible cleavage, her exposed pussy level with my face and her shiny black boots at my knees. What could I do? I snapped the handcuffs on myself, securing my hands behind my back.

　　"Good," Amy smiled. "I like my bitches helpless. I can do whatever I want to you." She placed a hand on my shoulder and raised a leg. For a moment I thought she was going to push my face into her pussy, but instead she rubbed the toe of her new boot along the underside of my shaft. I groaned into her panties.

　　"Such a needy, desperate little slut. One of your wife's shoes is all you need, isn't it?" She pushed my cock upwards, the sole of her boot trapping it against my stomach. The thin heel poked at my dangling balls.

　　"What's this?" she said, her eye caught by something over by the shopping bags. Her foot dropped from my throbbing cock, her heels clicking on the laminate floor. She walked over to the shopping bags and grabbed something.

　　"Yeah, this'll be fun," she said. "Stand up."

　　Cuffed, I struggled to my feet. She stood in front of me again. In her hand she held one of the spare laces from her new boots. Since the boots were tall, the laces were long. She reached out and took my balls in her hand.

　　"Hold still," she said, and began to wind the lace tightly around my scrotum. Then she wrapped it around the shaft of my cock, leaving only the head exposed. Finally, she tied it off, leaving a long lace dangling. She took the lace in her hand and gave it a tug, making my trussed-up cock and balls bounce. She laughed and clapped her hands, giddy as a schoolgirl.

　　"This is perfect! Now I really have you by the balls, don't I?" She tugged the lace a few more times, then began to walk away from me. I had no choice but to follow.

　　She led me up and down the hallway, twice around the living room, then down to the basement, where she stood still in the center of the room and had me walk around her while she tugged at the lace and laughed at my predicament. Finally, she lead me back upstairs.

　　"I like this," she smiled at me over her shoulder, "having my bitch on a leash. Men should be leashed like animals, don't you think? Get used to this, because you'll be leashed a lot from now on."

　　She lead me into the bedroom and pushed me onto the bed, my cuffed hands trapped beneath me. She reached down and tied the lace to the bedframe, pulling my erect cock painfully downwards. Then she climbed on top of me, sitting on my chest. I could feel her boot's cool leather against my ribs.

　　"I need your mouth" she said, and plucked her soaked panties from between my teeth. Before I could say a word, she shuffled forward and sat on my face.

　　The lawnmower was still droning, the sun sinking further towards the horizon, a shaft of long golden light entering our bedroom through the half-drawn curtains. Amy leaned on the window sill like a cat basking in the sun, her eyes closed, her breasts straining the laces of her bra as her breathing quickened. I saw none of that. My world had shrunk down to the hot damp space between Amy's shaking thighs, and I licked and kissed and sucked her pussy for as long as she would let me. My bound cock throbbed, unused and ignored. I existed for her pleasure. I felt the hot eruption of her orgasm on my face, and I slowed my aching tongue. It was her third so far. I let her regain her composure, tenderly kissing the sensitive folds.

　　I heard the window slide open. A blast of cooler air entered the room.

　　"Hi," I heard Amy say.

　　"Hi." A man's voice.

　　There's a bus stop outside our house. Our bedroom window faces it. She leaned on the windowsill, her breasts bouncing as her orgasms rocked her body, the light from the setting sun igniting her red hair, and a man at the bus stop couldn't help himself. He came over.

　　"Looks like you're, uh, having a good time there" he said.

　　"Just enjoying the fresh air" Amy panted. It was still light outside, and dark in our bedroom. There was no way he could see me, or anything past Amy's flushed face and her spectacular cleavage, glistening with sweat. Could he smell her cum? I was drenched in it. Shocked, I had stopped licking, but a kick in the ribs from Amy's boot reminded me what I was there for. I licked, and listened.

　　"Looks like you're enjoying it a lot," the man said.

　　"Could be better," Amy replied. "I could have a man to share it with."

　　Here I was, handcuffed, tied to the bed by my balls, eating my wife's pussy and listening to her flirt with another man! I was in turmoil. My bound cock raged.

　　"Well, I'm here," the man said.

　　"Hmmm. I'm not sure if you're what I'm looking for," Amy said breathily.

　　"Why don't I come inside and show you?" the man asked.

　　"Oh, I don't think my husband would like that," Amy said, "but he's busy right now. Why don't you show me now?"

　　"What - here?" the man asked.

　　"Yes, here," said Amy. "Those bushes block the view from the road. No one but me will see it."

　　Was she asking him to get his cock out? I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

　　"I - I...." the man hesitated.

　　"Afraid you won't measure up?" I could hear the smirk in Amy's voice. And I heard something else: a zipper, and a rustle of cloth.

　　"Oh, my," Amy purred, and I drove my tongue deep into her dripping snatch, "look at that. Very nice. Maybe I can just -"

　　Her weight shifted, and I craned my neck to keep lapping at her cunt. Was she touching a stranger's dick?

　　I heard her moan, and I heard him grunt. I heard a wet sound, and I felt her shift around above me. If I had any doubt about what was going on, Amy soon removed it.

　　"Yeah, suck my tits," she gasped. She had her husband licking her pussy and a stranger from the bus stop sucking her sensitive nipples. In no time at all, she came again, the loudest and wettest one yet.

　　"Oh, God," she panted over and over, "oh, God."

　　My head slumped back against the mattress, my mouth full of her. I heard the man outside grunt; it seemed Amy had been nice enough to finish him off.

　　"Lady, you're - you're something else..." he gasped.

　　"Looks like your bus is coming," Amy said, and slid the window shut.

　　Amy sat back on my chest, her wetness pooling on my skin. She leaned back, resting her head on my thigh, her red curls tickling my tormented cock. She placed her feet either side of my head. I could see her dripping pussy, and my cock was as hard as the laces would allow.

　　"Holy fuck that was good," she gasped. I sighed. She raised her head.

　　"You may speak, bitch," she grinned at me.

　　"Amy, that was - I can't believe you did that! A total stranger! That's -"

　　"What?"

　　"Just - wow. I - I don't know what to say."

　　"Did it turn you on?" she asked.

　　"That's - I mean, I..."

　　"I think it did. I think this," and she tugged sharply on the lace tied to my cock, "proves it. I think you liked hearing your wife flirt with another man while you lay there helpless."

　　"I - I didn't hate it," I said finally. "It was just - intense."

　　"Maybe we should have discussed it first. I just get lost in the scene sometimes. Drunk with my own power. That's why I like doing this. I feel so sexy, like I can do anything. Like there are no limits. But if it's too much, we'll stop." It was Amy talking now, not Miss Amy. My beautiful wife, not my sexy mistress. I thought for a moment.

　　"No," I said. "I want you to keep pushing me. I don't know where this is going to take us, but it excites me. I love you more than ever, even when you're being cruel. I was just shocked, that's all."

　　"But turned on?" she smiled.

　　"Yeah," I smiled reluctantly, "it was pretty hot."

　　"Good," Amy said, wrapping a hand around my tied balls, "because it was the hottest thing I've ever done. It felt so dirty, but so good. So we're good?"

　　"We're good," I replied.

　　"Good," she echoed, and her voice changed. She was Miss Amy again. "Because a moment ago, you failed to address me with the proper respect, and I might have to teach you a lesson." I grunted as her hand tightened around my balls. "But I'm going to give you the opportunity to beg for my forgiveness. On the floor, now." Untying the lace from the bedframe, she swung her legs over my head and sat on the edge of the bed. I struggled off the mattress and knelt before her.

　　"You're going to grovel before me. But because I'm so nice, I'm going to make it easier for you." She rubbed her hand against her pussy, scooping up some of her juices. I watched as she smeared her cum on both her boots.

　　"Ok, you may begin. Lick the cum off my boots and beg for my forgiveness while I decide what to do with you."

　　I bowed at her feet and began to worship her boots. Her cum never tasted so good.