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Subject: The Domination of Jason (adult story: femdom)
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Date: Wed, 10 May 2006 13:10:57 -0500
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The Domination of Jason
Submitted by: Mul E
Chapter 1
"Oh, my God," I exclaimed, "what are you doing?" It was perfectly obvious what Jason, my husband, was doing. He was playing with himself!
I had just finished the laundry and was putting the linens and towels away. I entered the bathroom to put some fresh towels on the rack when I surprised my husband as he was kneeling in front of the toilet manipulating his organ.
I had suspected that he was up to something all along as he would frequently lock himself in the bathroom. I thought it odd that after being married several years that he would still be squeamish about his bathroom habits.
Apparently, he forgot to lock the door this time. He stopped and became very red in the face when I came in.
I put the towels on the vanity and left without saying another word.
Jason got out of the bathroom and tried to explain, "Honey, I..."
I cut him off, "I don't want to talk about it. I don't know what to think. You think you were a teenager. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Get out of my sight."
He disappeared into the garage to tinker which is what he does whenever he's in the doghouse. I yelled a departing shot at him, "And don't even think about sex with me for at least a week!". I didn't care that it was spring and the windows were open.
For the rest of the week I didn't even let him touch me in bed. For the rest of the week, he was more subdued and fawning over me attempting to win himself into my good graces.
For the rest of the week, I thought about a grown man playing with himself and it intrigued me in a perverse sort of way. On the one hand, I was infuriated that Jason would feel the need for additional sexual release. Was I not woman enough for him? Yet, on the other hand, I really wanted to watch him do it. Could I be the one driving him to it? I had to know.
I had some books on sex, and they talked a little about male masturbation, but they went into the how rather than the why. I wanted to know so badly why men would do these things. The books confirmed that they did, indeed, do them.
I wouldn't think about asking Jason, so, I confided in my next door neighbor, Debbie. She and I had known one another since high school. During those days we told each other everything, especially our relationships with boys.
We still talked about our relationships with men. She had confided in me that she had given quite a number of "hand jobs" while in college and told me about some of the things she did with her lovers. If any woman knew about penis pumping, she did.
My guesses were correct. After a very embarrassing introduction of the subject, I finally explained what I caught Jason doing.
"Oh, Anne," she said, "Don't worry about it. It's very common. Men do it all the time. You don't know how lucky you are. Work with Jason on this. Both of you will like it, and, if you do your stuff right, you can really benefit out of it."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Jason is your typical oversexed male. He can't get enough sex and will seek release anywhere. Once he gets it, he loses interest. I bet that once he gets it off with you, he drops you like a hot potato."
"You got that right. How do you know so much about Jason?"
"This isn't rocket science, dear. I just described about 95% of the male population. They're all just about the same. That's what makes it so easy."
"Makes what so easy?" I asked.
"Female control! If you can control his release, you can control him."
"Why would I want to control him."
"It's worth a shot. Think of it. No more housework, no more laundry, hour long back rubs, guaranteed orgasms whenever you want them. Jason can do it all for you."
"Whoa, girl!" I exclaimed. "What makes you think that Jason will go along with this?"
"Most men think alike, they have hidden guilt feelings about the control they have over women in the business place and in other aspects of their lives. They know they are in control `out there.' In the outside world they have all kinds of support systems. The world is built according to their rules, and so far, everybody has played the game their way. Take them out of that familiar environment and put them one-one-one where it really counts..." She trailed off turning the phrase into a question.
We sat in silence for a few moments as she let me digest what I just heard. "In bed, it's different. Not every man is clear about his standing with women.Some of them never resolve the sexual conflicts they faced as children. When things get though, they try to retreat to their pasts when things were much simpler. Some of them would like to make it all the way back to the womb, but most of them enjoy getting back to the stage of being totally dependant upon a woman -- mom."
She laughed, "Yeah, I know, sounds a little too Freudian. Well, Freud wasn't all wrong. He got this part right at least. Most men want moms to take care of them. Mom provided love, but she also provided discipline. Some men get them mixed up. Childhood was a time of bliss when no decisions had to be made. You didn't even have to figure out right from wrong. Mom did all that for you."
"That's another part of it -- giving up responsibility. Men feel that they have to be in control all of the time. Bullshit! They stand firm and won't bend. Instead of bending, they break. They try to crawl back into the womb. They surrender. They become dependent on you. The most dominant men in the boardroom are often the most submissive men in the bedroom. I know, I've had my share."
"Men also have an incredibly strong attachment to their sex organs. I think it starts even before puberty. Once they figure out that they have something girls don't they flaunt it. It becomes a competition with them. Who can pee the furthest? Who has the biggest one? Who can jerk off the fastest? In a sense, men are their own worst enemy. All of them brag about how great they are in bed. It's probably 99% bullshit, but they swallow it. They have unrealistic expectations about what their performance is supposed to be. They are uncertain in the bedroom. Like most of the other things in their lives, men see sex as a competition. They compete with other men and their women and, God forbid, even your past lovers."
"Women get advice and sympathy on sex and how to handle men from other women instead of `I can do it better than you.' Women, in general, are more confident in bed. Not only do men compete with each other in bed, they also compete with women. For them, there must be a clear winner and a clear loser. They can't see, as us women do, that sex should be a cooperative effort. When a man and woman get in bed together, she has the home court advantage. That's why confident women frighten men so much. In the competitive mode, there is no half-way measure. It's either the man dominates the woman, or she must dominate him."
"A man defines his sexuality almost entirely in terms of his penis. As best I can figure out, there's absolutely nothing like it in women. Control a man's penis, and you control him. Considering the love they have for mom, the love they have for their prick, and the guilt feelings they have towards women in general, it's little wonder that some men wish to do penance by servicing females sexually".
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "Do you really do this kinky stuff?"
Debbie continued, "Well, first of all, it's not as kinky as you think. Besides, I normally like well-balanced relationships with my men, but even the strongest of them has a submissive side. For the men I really love -- those how know how to respect me -- I respect that, and I only take advantage of it for our mutual benefit."
"There are some men, however, who deserve what they get. Sometimes I just want to get back at the male sex in general. I remember what it's like growing up as a girl. I was a good student, yet I was done out of an honors physics class simply because I was a girl. In my senior year, the girls' swim team went to the state championships. Yet the boy's losing basketball team got more respect. Hell, even the cheerleaders got better press than we did. Having some jock tell me `That's the way it is.' didn't help."
"Even my own sister sold out. She's the one who taught me what boys looked like and how we could play with them when we were little girls. Now she's married and has two children, Amanda and Greg. She's raising Amada just like mom try to raise us -- to be a perfect little lady. On the other hand Greg's trangressions are mostly dismissed with `Boys will be boys." It's a mute testimony to what everyone considers to be the natural order of things. Boys got away with murder, and never had to take any responsibility for it. What's worse, is that they don't even know they're getting away with it."
"It goes beyond revenge, I have my lusty side as well. There are times when I want it, I want it all, and I want it all my way. I become an insatiable bitch.," she laughed. "That's when I find a macho whimp and use him."
"Macho whimp?" I asked.
"Yeah, macho whimp. Those who brag the most are normally the most insecure and also the most immature. I use both of these weaknesses to bring them under my control. I love the feeling of power. Lord knows I don't see it a work. Hell, I don't even get it at the mall, at least not in the electronics store or the automotive parts place."
"In private, I can exercise extreme power. I don't get simple respect, I extract awe, reverence and worship. First I drive them into lust, then I drive them into dispair. I love being a goddess. You can have it all, too."
"I don't see how I get from Jason playing with himself to playing slave for me, Debbie?"
"Take advantage of what I just taught you, girl. Take advantage of his physical weakness, and your mental superiority. Most of this game is played in the head."
I looked at her quizzically.
"It's simple," she said, "When's the last time you and Jason had sex?"
"About a week ago."
"And has he been playing with himself since."
"I don't think so. He seems doesn't seem to want to do anything to upset me."
"All the better. Don't you think that he's getting a little horny by now?"
I laughed, "I imagine so."
"Well, use it. Get that pussy working for you."
She reminded me of previous conversations, "You told me that Jason has never eaten you out. That's still true, isn't it?"
"Yes..."
"Well, here's your chance. Let me tell you what to do..."
I interrupted, "Wait! I'm not sure I want to do this."
"OK, think about it. I have some stuff I can give you."
Debbie went up to her bedroom, and when she came down, she gave me some books on female domination.
Most of the books Debbie gave me were magazines with articles on female domination, some were dedicated to bondage and discipline of both sexes in general, and there was one book totally dedicated to the female top position. She gave me a good selection from "nearly vanilla" to extremely kinky. It took me a week to read them all. Boy, Were my eyes opened! I had no idea how widespread the practice was, and in some cases, how extreme.
What really surprised me was how turned on I got. I went though a lot of wet panties. I had no reason to wish any physical harm to my husband, yet the thought of taking control over him, and humiliating him got me very excited.
When Debbie came over to pick up the books she asked me, "What are you prepared to do? If you're really going to get into this, you've got to be committed."
As excited as I was inside about the idea, my actions weren't quite up to my desires.
"OK, let's run a test," suggested Debbie. "You still have that husband of yours off sex?"
"Uh-umm," I nodded.
"Has he been playing with himself?"
"I don't think so."
"When was the last time you think he went over ten days without getting any."
I laughed, "I don't know, third grade?"
"Do you still want to get eaten out?"
"After my own abstinence -- more than ever!"
"OK. So, here's what you do..."
-=o=-
When Jason came home from work that night, I met him at the door in one of my sexier dresses. This was a far cry from the shirts, jeans and sneakers I normally kept house in! I greeted him with a long passionate kiss, and I could feel his cock spring to life even though his pants.
I led him over to the couch where I had previously poured out a glass of wine for each of us, and sat there leaning towards him, legs crossed towards him, twirling a lock of my hair with a finger. Even this slight teasing got me excited.
"Tell me about your day, dear." I asked him.
He stammered on about some of the mundane office goings-on and how the traffic was on the freeway. I didn't really listen. I just looked him in the eye, and licked my lips. Every bit of my body was broadcasting, "Take me, I'm hot!"
When he finally wound down, I asked him, "What were you doing in the bathroom the other day?" He blushed immediately and started stammering again.
"Do you like playing with yourself?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me, boy!" I yelled at him, surprising even myself.
"Well, er, yes."
"What do think about when you're doing it?" Debbie told me all the questions to ask.
"I think about having sex", my husband said, and then added hastily, "with you."
"Mmmm," I mused, "Tell me more, what are we doing in this fantasy of yours?"
I made him explain all of his thoughts to me graphically. He was getting hornier and hornier by the minute as he relived the experience. Debbie told me that making him admit his fantasies would break him down.
I had to admit, I was getting hot myself. Unlike my husband, however, I was able to keep under control.
When I had heard enough, I announced, "I bet you want to get it off now, don't you." He nodded his head vigorously.
"Come, let's go to the bedroom." He was on my heels like a puppy.
I sat on the bed and said, "Take off your clothes. Slowly! I want you to put on a show for me."
He obliged, getting even redder than before. He was clearly in the grip of severe embarrassment. How I was going to love this!
Once he was completely naked in front of me he asked, "What about you, aren't you going to get undressed?"
"Not just yet," I informed him, "Turn around. I want to see all of you".
His eyes brightened when I stood up and dropped my dress to reveal my slip and stockings. I lifted my leg just high enough to show him that I wasn't wearing panties underneath, and that I was wearing my garter belt.
His cock was rigid and throbbing by this time.
"Before I allow you to come," (how nice that word - allow - sounded), "You'll have to do a few things for me. You do want to be allowed to come eventually, don't you?"
Once again, the vigorous nod.
"OK, then. Kneel down in front of me and bow your head." He did as he was told, and I threw my slip over his head. Using my hands, I guided it to where I wanted it.
"You know what to do." I told him.
"But honey," came the muffled reply.
"No but honey's tonight," I sternly told him, `You've had your sex fun, now it's time for me to have mine. If you don't put your tongue in there, you'll never put anything else in there either. Now LICK!" Guilt! It worked just like Debbie said it would.
Jason started licking me, although with less relish than I'd like. Debbie suggested that I punish inferior performance but Jason's reaction was enough. He obviously thought that oral sex was a disgusting prospect (He didn't even ask me to perform it on him). The idea that I was making him do something he absolutely detested made up for his actual lack of physical stimulation.
As I felt his tongue in my pussy for the first time, I thought, "a game played mostly in the head," is that how Debbie put it? Power, yes, I liked it. I came, and I came hard. I liked it, and I almost lost control.
By the time I let Jason up for air, his face was covered with my juices. I smiled down at him, not so much from the humorous look of the slick juices on his face, but from the knowledge of what I had done to him, and what I had made him do, and where all of this would eventually lead.
-=o=-
"Now, get dressed," I ordered him. "You're taking me out to dinner." I allowed him a quick shower while I changed my slip and got back into my dress.
All through dinner, I kept sending him the come-on signals. I had no doubt that Jason thought his punishment was over. Little did he know it was just beginning!
By the time we got home, Jason was all over me. I put on my sexiest nightgown kissed him deeply, and rubbed my body against his. If I had let him in me just then, he would have shot his load on the first stroke.
I rolled away from him, smiled at him over my shoulder, said, "Good night," and turned off the light.
"Aren't we going to make love?" he asked.
"Why don't you make love to your hand? You seem to like it better."
"It's not like that," he insisted.
"I don't care what it's like. I'll tell you this. You touch yourself again, and I won't have anything to do with you. Think about it, your hand or me. I think I'm worth giving up your hobby for."
"OK, dear. I promise. I won't play with myself again."
"That's not good enough," I was on a roll, and I wasn't going to stop, "I want it in writing."
"What!"
"In writing," I said more emphatically, turning the light back on. "Get over to that desk and take dictation." I bit off each word crisply. "There's going to be some changes for the better around here. Better for me, that is."
He got up and sat at the desk.
I improvised as I went along, "I, Jason, promise my wife, Anne, total fidelity." Jason's pen made the appropriate scratches. "I will not look at another woman. I will not go out with the boys unless she lets me. I will stop masturbating as of this very moment and I will not touch myself without Anne's permission. >From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life."
"Now wait a minute," he interrupted.
"Keep writing," I overruled.
"From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life. She will decide when and if I've earned an orgasm. I will make it my priority to make sure her pleasure comes first. I will do whatever she tells me to do, and if she is not satisfied with my performance, she has the right to punish me and withhold sex from me. I promise all these things on blah blah blah -- OK, just date it and sign it."
Not very eloquent, but to the point nonetheless.
He finished his task and I inspected the results. I nodded slowly and grinned sexily. "You can start tomorrow. It's Saturday, and I want breakfast in bed. Then I have some chores for you to do."
He raised his finger to object until I waved the paper in front of his face. "Don't push it, bub! You're not getting any tonight. Misbehave, and you won't get any for a long time. Now kiss me like a good little boy, turn off the light and go to sleep."
I can't believe it. I just lectured him like an errant 9-year old, and he accepted it! Debbie was right again, a couple of balls full of semen will make a man do just about anything for the mere promise of relief. I slept like a baby thinking of the new phase of life Jason and I had just started.
-=o=-
I woke up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. There stood Jason in his bathrobe with a tray containing my breakfast. "Put the tray here," I said, indicating my lap, "and drop the robe from now on whenever you are with me in this room, you will wear no clothes except what I order you to wear. Do you understand?"
"Yes, dear."
"That's another thing. No more of this `dear' and `honey' stuff. >From now on I'm `Mistress' in private, and "Madam" in public. Do you get that?"
"Yes, Mistress."
This was going better than expected. Debbie told me that it would take several `training sessions' before Jason would be calling me "Mistress".
I made Jason stand there and watch me eat. I kept stealing peeks at his penis noting how big and hard it was. He was accepting this. He was even getting off on it. I noted inwardly, "Yes, this is going to work out after all." I took my time and enjoyed my breakfast. When I was done, I made sure Jason got his. I made him eat me out again, change the bed linens and start the laundry while I got dressed. It was a nice day so I threw on a blouse, shorts, and sneakers and said as I sauntered by my husband, "I'm going over to Debbie's. There's a list of things to do in the kitchen. I'll be back this afternoon, and this place better look spotless."
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