Amy's Bitch

I was sitting alone in the hot tub when I heard the back door close. Amy, my wife of seven years, had come out into the yard, probably to smoke.

"Hey," I said. She smiled as she approached. Without saying a word, she rolled up her sleeve and slipped her hand into the bubbling water.

"Oh," I said, feeling her grab me through my trunks. "This is unexpected." She smiled at me, and slipped her other hand under the waistband. My cock rose quickly under her fingers. She's always been good with her hands. Lightly, she ran her painted nails along my shaft, leaving me groaning. Then she wrapped her warm hand around my cock and squeezed gently while her other hand cradled my balls. Then, she switched to using her nails on my sack while rubbing my cock under the water. I was panting with desire when she reached a hand back behind my balls and began to rub a single knuckle against my perineum. I groaned as she massaged my prostate, molten bolts of pleasure running through the base of my spine as my scrotum tightened against my body.

"I think we need to lose these shorts," Amy said, pulling my trunks over my straining cock.

"Uh huh," I nodded dumbly, frantically tugging at the trunks until my feet came free and Amy pulled them from the water, letting them land on the patio with a wet splat. I was naked in the tub while she stood outside, still in her jeans and sweater that she wore to work that day.

Her hands slipped below the water again, and a single fingernail traced the length of my cock, slowly, lightly, from base to tip, following the trail of my boiling veins. I was ready to explode. She grabbed my balls, and held them; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my full attention.

"Mine." she whispered in my ear. She tightened her grip, and abruptly released me.

She dried her hands on the towel I had next to the tub. Then she picked up my phone, pressed a few buttons and put it back beside the towel.

"Meet me inside in fifteen minutes," she said. "I set an alarm on the phone to let you know when it's time. And don't touch yourself while I'm gone. I want you hard for me."

She picked up my towel and my soaking bathing suit and headed for the door.

"Wait!" I yelled after her. "Don't take those!"

She turned. I could see her smile in the rectangle of light cast by the open back door. But she said nothing. The door closed behind her.

It was two months since we had the talk. I hate those talks, the kind that every relationship needs now and then. But I had to do it. Our sex life had virtually collapsed. I was tired of always being the initiator, tired of being turned down for one reason or another. I told Amy how I felt, and she agreed that our sex life was lacking, but it wasn't because she didn't want to. "I'm self-conscious," she explained. "I want to do all these things, but then I think about how fat I am and I can't go through with it."

She was never fat. But over the course of our marriage, she had put on a few pounds, and it was bothering her a lot. We talked about it, and she decided she was going to put more effort into our sex life. She meant it, too. The next day she took out a gym membership and hired a personal trainer. To support her, I started working out too, and pretty quickly, we both started looking and feeling a lot better.

In fact, she looked fantastic. She always had a natural hourglass figure, and when she began losing weight, her waist got even thinner, making her DD boobs look even bigger than they already were. I always wanted her, but as her body got into better and better shape, my desire grew stronger.

So did hers. She was feeling good about herself, and the sex became more frequent. She even began initiating it. But this was the first time she had ever been this aggressive.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I watched the time crawl past on the phone's illuminated screen. The alarm barely got a beep out before I silenced it, and I launched myself out of the tub like a sea-to-air missile.

I ran to the back door and turned the handle. Well, tried to.

It was locked.

Trying to cover my nakedness with my hands, I rapped on the door with a knuckle.

Nothing.

Terrified the neighbours might be watching, I knocked again. "Amy!" I called urgently through my teeth.

Finally, I heard the leisurely clicking of high heels on the four tile steps inside that lead down to our back door. The door opened, and I gasped.

Since the day we met, I'd always wanted to see Amy in a corset. She was built for it, with her slender waist, round hips and huge breasts. But with her body issues, it had never happened. Yet here she was, stood in the lighted doorway, in an expensive-looking green satin corset decorated with black lace. Her breasts were pushed up high above her tiny waist, the pale flesh quivering with every breath she took. Her natural red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders to rest on her magnificent chest. The hard-on I'd almost lost while I waited for her roared back to life as I looked at her, and she smiled.

I stepped forward, my arms reaching for her, my cock brushing against her thigh. She pressed her palm flat against my chest, firmly pushing me back.

"Not so fast," she said. "You want to come in?"

"Yes," I stammered. "Yes, I do!"

"Why?" she demanded.

"Why? I want to fuck you!"

She arched a delicate eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know about that. Look at me."

She placed her hands on her hips, her breasts rising even higher as she drew a deep breath.

"You look amazing!" I said.

"I do, don't I?"

"So sexy," I said. She smiled.

"I don't think you've earned the right to have sex with me looking like this. Do you?"

"What?" I asked, though I heard her perfectly clearly.

"Do you think you deserve to have sex with me?" She breathed deeply again, making her breasts swell out over the corset's lacy top.

"N-no" I tried. Her smile showed her white teeth.

"No, you don't. But maybe, if you're a good boy, you might earn a little treat. Do you want a treat?"

"Yes please," I said.

"Do you want to be a good boy for me?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good. You can start by showing me the proper respect. On your knees."

Humiliated, I dropped to the cold concrete.

"Now kiss my feet."

I looked up at her in disbelief. She stood over me, lit from behind, her hands on her hips. She seemed to tower over me as I knelt in the doorway.

"Do it," she commanded.

I had never seen these shoes before. The black patent leather shone in the light from inside the house. Her feet arched beautifully on the five inch stiletto heels, with her painted toes peeking out of the hole in front. They laced up to the top of her ankles, and they were sexy as hell.

I don't exactly have a foot fetish, but I've always had a taste for sexy heels and boots on women. Especially boots. Amy knew this - she'd worn heels in bed from time to time - but we'd never taken it to this level. I never thought she'd wear a pair of shoes like this.

I planted a kiss on the shiny upper surface of her right boot. Then another on her left. I felt degraded, utterly humiliated, kissing my wife's feet while I knelt naked before her where anyone could see - and I'd never been so turned on.

"Did I say you could stop?" Amy said quietly.

I hurried back to my task, planting passionate kisses all over her feet, from her exposed toes up to the top of her boots and back down. She laughed as she looked down on me, her naked husband grovelling before her.

"You like my shoes?" she asked.

"I love them," I said between kisses. "They're so hot."

"Well, I'm glad you like them," she said, pivoting one foot on its tall heel so I could reach the side of the shoe with my mouth, "because they were expensive. And it's going to be your job to look after them."

"Ok," I mumbled into her toes.

"In fact," Amy went on thoughtfully, "while I've got you here, there's a few things I think I'm going to have you do from now on. Seeing you on your knees like this has got me thinking. You'd do pretty much anything to fuck me right now, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would." I panted. "I want you so bad. You look so fucking hot right now!"

"Don't slobber on my boots. I want them nice and shiny. Clean them with your tongue."

Without hesitation, I did as I was told, running my tongue all over the boot's smooth surface. I heard her laugh again.

"If I'd known how easy it was to make you my little bitch, I'd have done this a long time ago. You are my bitch, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said quietly. My face reddened with shame.

"Say it." she demanded.

"I'm your bitch." I said.

"No, say it properly. Look me in the eye and say, 'I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy'."

"I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy."

"Louder!"

"I'm your boot-licking bitch boy, Miss Amy!"

"Better. It's about time your learned your place. How does it feel, bowing before your wife like this?"

"Good, Miss Amy. I feel degraded, but so turned on. I love this. I love you."

"And you love my boots, don't you? Give them each one more nice big kiss. Good boy."

She turned and walked slowly up the four steps into the house, her thong-bared ass swaying from side to side with each slow step. At the top of the stairs she turned, and I saw her smile as she looked at me, still kneeling naked on the concrete outside with a raging hard-on.

"Come in," she said. I sprang through the door and shut it behind me, relieved to be away from prying eyes. But as I climbed the steps, a glare from Amy stopped me in my tracks.

"Did I say you could walk?" she said angrily.

"Uh...no?"

"No what?"

"No, Miss Amy."

"On your knees, now!"

I dropped to the floor and hung my head in shame. I could see her boots glistening with my saliva on either side of my head.

"New rule: my bitches crawl in this house. Unless otherwise instructed, you will remain naked on your knees at all times like a good little bitch. Got it?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Say it!"

"I will remain naked and on my knees at all times like a good little bitch. I will crawl unless otherwise instructed. I'm sorry, Miss Amy."

"Wow," she sighed. "You really will do anything just to come, won't you?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"I could put a leash on you and lead you round the house like a puppy, couldn't I?"

"Y-yes, Miss Amy."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll keep you locked up in the basement for my amusement, and only let you out when I feel like it. I could keep you caged down there and make you beg me to release you. I could bring my friends down there and we'd all laugh at you as you grovelled and begged. I could make you kneel in front of them and lick their boots too, couldn't I, bitch?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."

"Oh, I'm going to like having a slut like you to boss around. Make you do all the cooking and cleaning, all the chores, make you service me whenever I feel like it and beg for an orgasm. Once in a while I'll even let you have one! If you've earned it, of course."

"Of course, Miss Amy." I'd never heard her talk this way before, never knew she had an imagination like that. But seeing her power over me was awakening something in her; I could hear the excitement in her voice as she spoke.

"I'll dress you up in little outfits while you serve me, just to humiliate you. Something girly and slutty, since you're such a little slut. Oh, I know! We'll get you a nice French maid's outfit with a frilly little skirt, and you'll serve me and my friends wine and cheese while we chat on the couch. Would you like that?"

"No, Miss Amy," I whispered.

"Of course you would, you slut. You'd love it, kissing my feet in front of my friends, showing them what an obedient little bitch you are. Besides, what you want doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"No, Miss Amy."

"No, it's what I want that counts. And right now, I want you to crawl into that bedroom like a needy little slut and attend to my needs."

I followed her clicking heels into the bedroom and knelt at the edge of our bed. I could hear her rummaging in the bedside table.

I'd bought the handcuffs six months earlier. We'd used them a couple of times, on her and on me. She used them now to secure my hands behind my back and stood in front of me.

"You're not going to need your hands for this," she said by way of explanation. "Now, do you think you deserve a treat?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I pleaded.

"And why do you think so?"

"I've been good, Miss Amy. I did everything you told me. I licked your boots. I crawled for you. I agreed to be your - your boot licking bitch boy."

"You did, didn't you?" she laughed. "I still can't believe how easy it is to control you. But you also stood up without permission."

"Yes Miss Amy. Sorry Miss Amy."

"Well, I'm in a good mood, so I'm going to give you a treat, even though I don't think you deserve it." As she spoke, she peeled off her green thong and slid it down her legs. I watched as she stepped gracefully out of it and sat on the edge of the bed in front of me. I could already smell her arousal. She parted her thighs and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Now" she said, "you're going to make me cum with your mouth. I'm going to cum all over your face, and you're going to lap it up like the little slut you are. Don't you dare spill a drop. Got it?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Beg for it."

"Please, Miss Amy, please let me taste you. Please cum in my face. Please use me for your pleasure."

As I begged, I watched her slip two fingers inside her pussy.

"Please let me eat your cum like the little slut I am. I know I don't deserve it, but please let me worship you."

Amy moaned heavily, her breasts bouncing in the corset.

"I'm your bitch, and I am here only to serve you. You deserve all the pleasure I can give you."

She was panting now, holding my hair with one hand and working on herself with the other, making me watch her orgasm.

"Please, Miss Amy. I'll do anything. Please cum for me."

Amy cried out, and her body shuddered. She gripped my hair tighter, painfully, as she climaxed.

"Oh God" she panted, "oh God, that was good."

She released my hair and lay awkwardly back on the bed, the tight corset making movement difficult. I knelt between her legs, gazing at her glistening pussy, while she regained her breath.

Finally, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at me with a predatory grin.

"Mmmm," she moaned, "that was so hot. Did you like that, slut?"

"Yes Miss Amy. May I please lick you now?"

"You may. And it better be even better than that was, or I might have to punish you."

I didn't need to be told twice. I shuffled forward on my knees and went to work.

I've always liked eating pussy, and in the course of seven years, I'd learned exactly how my wife likes it done. I began very gently, knowing she'd be sensitive from her recent orgasm. With the tip of my tongue, I carefully lapped up the juices that had leaked from her pussy onto her thighs. Then I started a trail of tiny kisses along her inner thigh, right to the edge of her swollen pink lips. I paused over her pussy, breathing it in - then started over on the other thigh. I reached her pussy again, and paused for a second, then planted a big wet kiss right on it. Amy hummed softly somewhere above me. I kissed her pussy again, and again. No tongue, not yet; just chaste, tender little kisses. I kissed my way slowly up to her clit, and paused again, breathing on it.

"Lick it" she moaned.

I extended my tongue and brushed the tip against the fleshy nub. She moaned again, and I slowly increased the pressure, using more of my tongue each time. Her legs began to shake. I placed my lips over her clit and began to suck it while I licked with a pulsing motion.

"Mmmm, that's right. Suck it, slut. Make me cum."

Amy ran her hands over her heaving breasts, her corseted waist. Jealous, I was all too aware of the handcuffs restricting my own hands. She really did look fantastic. She was the hottest thing I'd ever seen, writhing on my bed ecstatically in gorgeous lingerie, and I couldn't touch her. I sucked harder. Almost unconsciously, I was rubbing my stiff prick against her patent leather boot.

"You wanna fuck my feet, bitch?" Amy groaned.

"Yes, Miss Amy. Please let me fuck your beautiful feet!"

"Ok, slut. But don't you dare cum! You haven't earned it yet. If you cum, I'm going to make you lick it up."

"Thank you Miss Amy." And I meant it. I was so in thrall to her that I was sincerely thanking my wife for being allowed to rub my erection on her foot.

Amy lifted a leg and rested her other foot on my shoulder, the pointed heel digging into my collarbone. This gave me access to more of her pussy, and I worked my way down her slick lips, slurping up her juices as though my life depended on it. She groaned as my tongue began to probe her hole.

"Yesss," she hissed. And she scraped a heel down my thigh, hard enough to hurt.

I went deeper. Thrusting my tongue forward like a weapon, I used my neck muscles to tongue-fuck her. She thrashed on the bed, whimpering and driving her heels harder into my skin. I could feel the walls of her snatch clenching down on my tongue as she got closer and closer to orgasm. The foot that rested on my shoulder slipped down my back, and she trapped my head against her groin with her leg.

I felt her hands grab my hair again, pulling me in deeper until my whole face was coated with her. She rubbed her pelvis against me, literally fucking my face, my nose rubbing against her clit as I strained my tongue as deep into her as it would go.

She cried out, and a gush of warm fluid coated my outstretched tongue. She tastes different when she cums. I can always tell.

"Uuhhhhhh!" She gave a long, low moan and released me, flopping back on the bed. Knowing she'd be sensitive, I contented myself with gently cleaning around her pussy, lapping up her fluids from her thighs and sparse red pubic hair. I'd never seen her so wet, never seen her cum so much.

"Fuck," she panted as I carefully cleaned her with my tongue. She had told me not to spill a drop, and I didn't intend to. Besides, I hadn't cum. I was rock hard and more desperate than ever.

"That was so fucking hot!" she whispered, almost to herself, as though she had forgotten I was there.

"Yes, Miss Amy." I said as I kissed her inner thigh. I could feel her copious juices cooling on my cheeks. She raised her head up from the bed and regarded me, kneeling before her.

"We're definitely doing this again," she smirked.

"Yes Miss Amy," I said eagerly.

"I need to shower. Take off my boots." I looked at her, puzzled.

"What? You don't need your hands for that."

So I bent down to her feet and took the zipper on the side of one shoe between my teeth, pulling it with difficulty down to the sole. She sat on the bed and watched my efforts as I took the thin heel between my lips and teeth and awkwardly pulled the shoe off. She watched me repeat the process with the second shoe.

"Good boy," she said. "Unfortunately, you've got cum from your filthy face all over them. They'll need to be polished."

"Yes Miss Amy."

"And my panties, too. Those got a little damp when I was making you grovel outside. They're too delicate for the machine; you'll take care of that too, won't you?"

"Yes Miss Amy" I said.

"Good. Well, get to it then. I expect those boots gleaming when I'm down with my shower."

"Yes, Miss Amy. Are you going to untie me?" The laugh she gave sent a shiver down my spine and a jolt through my bobbing cock.

"Why would I do that? You look cute in handcuffs. Besides, with a tongue like that, you don't need your hands. Get used to working without them."

"But, Miss Amy..."

"What?" she asked scornfully. "What is it, slut?"

"I - I did what you wanted, and..."

"Oh, you thought I was going to let you cum? You didn't think you'd actually get to fuck me, did you?"