My 50’s House Wife Fantasy Ch. 03

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Author Note: I’m moving forward in time to a crisis and hopefully happy ending, as I usually don’t like to go more than 3 chapters and I think the in-between stuff for this fantasy is less interesting.

Almost two years had passed since that break-through weekend of upgrading my status with Mr. M from a “charity case” to a “contributing” member of His household. I had gotten just about everything I wanted, albeit with a few bumps along the way. I wasn’t yet the official and credentialed “woman of the house”, but I felt like I was within reach of that ever-more-real-to-me goal and dream of living a secure and stress-free life under the protection of a successful male.

I WAS currently dealing with one HUGE problem in my relationship with my good-and-evil overlord, one that was threatening to have me evicted from his home and from his protection, but I was also close to getting that under control too, so I was feeling pretty good about everything.

The biggest adjustment, I think, was adding a heavier dose of BDSM bullshit than a typical 50’s woman had to put up with 60+ years ago. Although back then, there was probably no such concept of either a pert and perky (but sexually submissive) 50’s housewife or of BDSM.

In the big picture, I didn’t really mind the dom-sub stuff. He was experienced in a different way than I was experienced. I had come to him as a fuck-slut (although I still don’t think he knows that), and I had been with several guys and had THAT kind of experience. He had lots of LIFE experience, which had led to life SUCCESS for him (which meant he could provide security, safety and a home for me), which I wanted. But in the run-up to that, he hadn’t lived (and thus possibly had now outgrown) the juvenile interest in maledom-femsub fantasies — or maybe he had just had too much vanilla in his life — his ex didn’t let him go wild on her AT ALL, or something like that, and he was catching up on things.

Who really knows what his actual psycho-sexual problems were…this is my story, not his…

But all I had to do on the female side was give him sufficiently obedient sex — and I liked sex anyway. Instead of spreading it around as a slut, I was just focusing my sexual interests on him.

Sure, he was not as good-looking as the guys my age, but I had run through my attractions and obsessions and interests in that sphere and I was now attracted to different kinds of male traits, or a wider set of male traits. So while he was just more of an overall 5 or 6 in the total physical package department, he was an 8+ in the things I was more interested in now as a twenty-something than I had previously been interested in as an adolescent teen. But at least he was average! Besides, after time passes, you absorb the looks anyway and your focus turns more on the rest of it (other than cock size, an actual undersized and small cock is definitely not good and impossible to make up for).

Since his cock was average to above average, I was NOT lowering standards (too much)….wink…wink…

So in reality, he was kind of perfect, except maybe a bit overboard on the sadism-masochism games.

But what man is perfect!?!?!

On the bondage side, it was fairly light and there was no particular need for him to be too out there in terms of tying me up, since I was always a sure thing for him when it came to access to my body and using me sexually according to his mood. He used bondage sparingly when he was in the mood. And when he put me in bondage, it was almost always centered around my wrists: behind my back usually, or up to a hook above me or to a post behind me (showing him either my tits and pussy or my back and ass), or to the bed frame while lying down on the bed (either sunny side up, or over easy). He didn’t get into the complicated Japanese stuff or really anything that got in the way of him getting, keeping and using his hard-on while dominating and fucking me.

In other words, he never bound me so completely that he couldn’t put his cock in me either on demand, or without much effort.

The domination side was not that different from past deals between men and women from time immemorial and perfectly in keeping with my 50’s housewife fantasies and desires to be taken care of while I took care of my man. Women gave it up when it came to direct control and exercised a lot or a little bit of indirect control. I’m not sure where I was on that spectrum of indirect control, but I was getting pretty much everything I really wanted, except the ring and being bred by him, so I felt I was holding my own.

Much of the domination and submission part, to me, was actually centered around his balls and my pussy.

I originally presented myself — when I threw myself at him that first night almost two years ago — as shaved smooth, clean as a whistle, like a pre-pubescent girl. And of course what man would or could complain about that with current sensibilities as they are? But as our relationship developed (at first bahçelievler escort fast and then at a more leisurely pace), he teased me that the age difference was too great to stay with the baby-smooth pussy look. I couldn’t go back to the amazon forest look that I’m sure was much more common back in the actual 1950’s, but I had to present him with at least SOME pubic hair, he said, to get rid of at least some of the ick-factor in the two decade difference between him and me.

So over time, he exerted his dominance to make me show him many different grooming styles for my pussy until he found one that HE liked best on me. The journey to where I ended up was actually very sexy and intimate, I thought, as he took his time to have me put a few different looks for my privates in front of him. At first I had to grow it out to a Bermuda triangle, before he had me shave that down to a fairly wide landing strip. He liked that better, but he wanted to see a postage stamp style before he finally decided to have me go back to a thinner landing strip that I had to keep clean and smooth and SHORT — and also bare and smooth in the area between my clit and the bottom of the strip. He didn’t like the look of the landing strip going all the way down to my clit and slit. In addition to keeping it short, I also had to keep it blonde, blonde, blonde (I earned punishment when it was not blond enough, another part of BDSM in terms of sadism and masochism).

So in the end, it almost looked like I was bare and smooth, since my pubic hair was so short and thin and blonde, but the effort I had to put in to keeping my hair visible for him (rather than just shaving it smooth) was considerable — and that was a form of sexual dominance that I appreciated more fully as time passed as I was forced to always think about my pussy and keeping its appearance pleasing and pretty and just right for Mr. M’s tastes and fetishes.

Anyway, it was very sexy for him to exert so much control, interest in and domination over the presentation of my pubic region and my pussy to him and I spent hours and hours on paying attention to my appearance down there, making sure I kept myself just the way he liked it, knowing that he wanted it just so and I would be in trouble if I deviated too far from what he had determined was my ideal look. And while it may sound silly, I really obsessed on keeping my blond, thin, close airstrip JUST RIGHT, a clear separate smooth distance between it and my sex, centered, visible but not too wide, dying it to the right color. I spent time inspecting myself every day and I LOVED IT when he took time to inspect me and tell me how good I looked and I was also mortified whenever he found something wrong with my landing strip and anxious to fix myself as soon as possible.

The other part of his dominance and submission mind games was ball worship. As focused as Mr. M was on getting my private parts looking just the way he wanted, I spent a LOT OF TIME, from the VERY BEGINNING worshipping and paying attention to his balls. While he groomed himself close around his dick, but not boy-smooth, he generally left his balls alone, so they were fuzzy and lightly covered in hair.

Not being a man and not being this intimate with a man before who paid such close attention to my sex and made me worship his balls as much as he made me do, I was amazed at how his balls grew and shrunk from day to day and even within a fucking session.

I liked his balls best when they were “medium”, not totally shriveled where I couldn’t even find his nuts (did they curl up inside his body?), and not totally loose and gross and floppy and sweaty, but kind of hanging and bulbous and where I could clearly see each ball (one was usually lower than the other) and get my mouth around each ball one at a time for that part of our relationship.

An often-repeated blowjob scene was him fully clothed and I had to fish his cock and balls out, but he was still buttoned up above, so that his cock and balls were “framed” by his open fly and I could worship his balls and suck his cock with a minimum of undressing by him, like I was just his common blowjob bitch that wasn’t even worth his time undressing for – while I was often naked or had to undress while I sucked him and worshipped him.

Anyway, he didn’t dominate me too much by making me kiss his boots, or kiss his hands. But he did like his cock and ball worship — it seemed a fetish for him (maybe his ex didn’t do it enough, or whatever) — and he did like me to spend time on his balls even when I wasn’t actively working for his jism – and so the combination of me having to constantly tend and perfect my pussy’s landing strip look and work on his balls just about every day in the sub-girl, obedient wanna-be-housewife role set the foundation for the dom-sub stuff he played with me.

Of course, he got everything he wanted sexually since even though I was young, I had been over-exposed to some of the outer reaches bala escort of the male mind and he explored some of those tangents, but not too many of them (thankfully) and this focused attention on my private parts sexual appearance and worshipping his balls was a major piece of being his sub-girl who was hoping to eventually be his sub-wife.

On the sadism and masochism side of BDSM, I thought Mr. M was firm but fair – not committing very many roughing penalties and making his points without taking things too far. He did have a sadistic streak whereas I don’t really think I was much of a masochist myself, but I think it was pretty mild overall and he got 80% of his enjoyment on bondage, dominance and submission and only 20% of his jollies out of pain and punishment. That sadistic streak took me the most amount of time coming to terms with. But he hadn’t gone too far (yet).

I was cooking dinner now, after putting in my half-day of work during lunch shift at the local dine-in chain restaurant. He wanted me to have at least some work to keep myself from going crazy by being alone all day, but nothing too strenuous — and I think after taking his advice on this, I was pretty convinced he was right. 6 hours a day, 3 days a week was enough to get out of the house and around other people, but not so much that it kept me from being a good little sex-toy in the evenings and on the weekends for my sex-Daddy.

It also gave me plenty of time to do errands, keep the house clean (which didn’t take much, given it was just the two of us), tend to the appearance of my pussy to please him, and get some time to myself for doing my nails, relaxing in the tub with my bubble-bath, shopping for clothes, touching myself, and other things you do on your own time.

Dinner was going to be steak and potatoes for him, along with some greens (for appearances sake). I’d be having a quick salad at the beginning of dinner, or even before he sat down, and then worshipping his cock and balls while he ate.

But back to the sadism, which consisted mainly of something he called “maintenance” punishment time. He started those three or four months in, after it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere and after we’d explored the first rush of May-October sex between a newly adult woman and an end-of-his prime man.

“Maintenance punishment” was an over-the-knee spanking each Sunday, usually around mid-afternoon, after he’d finished in the yard, or done his hunting and gathering at the hardware store, or we’d gotten closer to dinner than to lunch. He spanked me as long as he felt like it, whether I was good or bad. It was supposed to be a way to remind me that no matter how well or badly I behaved, I was subject to male “correction” for any reasons or for no reason. I don’t know if that’s how other couples managed this stuff, but that’s how he viewed it, anyway — and how he explained it to me.

The basic over-the-knee spanking could and often would then be enhanced for any behavior lapses and training issues experienced since the PRIOR week’s “maintenance punishment”.

If I missed sucking his cock because I wasn’t feeling well, or the night got away from us, that could be a reason to add some belt-strokes to the over-the-knee spanking. If I forgot to tidy up before he got home, that could be a reason for the same few belt-strokes. If I half-assed it at dinner, that could be something that got me in trouble. If I didn’t make an effort to dress sexily for him or make an effort to be sexually alluring and available to his satisfaction, or asking him to use me enthusiastically enough, he’d tell me that would earn the undesirable “corporal” punishment to go along with the much more enjoyable over-the-knee sexy stuff. And of course, if I let my pussy’s landing strip get too long or too wide or too close to my clit, I’d earn corporal punishment for that too, for not paying attention to keeping my pussy perfect for him.

Anything and everything was a landmine to trip me up and I was always on my toes and a little bit uncomfortable on whether I had all my shit together properly to avoid being punished. It was really kind of a way to keep me on edge, anxious to be obedient, eager to please.

There was also a duty to self-report and in many ways, we operated on the honor system.

I thought it was unfair at first, but he never hit me too hard with the belt and, of course, I actually LIKED being hand-spanked by him over his knee, since it is just lovely to be hand-spanked, and led to so much touching between us and usually (almost always) led to some sort of intimacy and sex afterward, which was almost always enjoyable, especially when my body was keyed up by my butt (or my tits or between my legs) being nicely reddened by his palm.

But even more, it was really nice to always get a confirmation that he was sexually attracted to me after punishing me, either maintenance or maintenance plus corporal. That was a nice way to take the “sting” out of being corrected, balgat escort trained, punished, strapped, spanked, whipped, etc.

It took a while for me to get the hang of self-reporting — and I liked how he would often give me a pass on this or that demerit saying it was a problem, but he didn’t feel the belt was necessary for that on THIS weekend, etc. We used dried beans and transferred them from the “regular” jar to the “punishment” jar to keep track of how often I’d gone astray during the week. I rolled a dice and rolling a 1 or 2 got me 1 stroke per pinto bean (or demerit), rolling a 3 or 4 got me two and rolling a 5 or 6 got me 3 strokes per dried bean, so there was a bit of randomness there too, in order to reinforce to me that I wasn’t really in control.

He called rolling the dice a 1-D-3 and referenced dungeons and dragons?!?? When I asked him what the hell he was talking about with D3’s and dragons, and he explained it, I told him I thought he was being a total nerd and he responded by immediately transferring two beans to the punishment jar and asking me — with an evil smile- if I had anything more to say to him, which of course shut me up.

As stated before, given his fetish for ball worship, I earned a lot of corporal punishment as he trained me to be a goldilocks ball worshipper. I had to be enthusiastic enough for him to get enjoyment out of it, but not go at his balls so hard that I caused him any pain. It was a hard line to get right — and a very small difference (from what I could tell) from him liking my mouth, teeth, hands and tongue all over his balls to making him wince in discomfort – and I had experienced a lot of belt strokes and cane strokes trying to get expert at worshipping his big, masculine, fuzzy set of juicy, tasty, (and demanding!) balls since I didn’t really understand without a lot of trial and error what was hard enough to feel good without being so hard that it didn’t cause pain.

Anyway, two dried beans one week x 1 stroke for a 1 or 2 Sunday afternoon dice roll would be just two painful and unpleasant straps of his belt. The next week a single bean could mean three strokes if I rolled (or he rolled, if he was rolling) a high number of 5 or 6 and got 3 kisses of the evil drapery-rod-cum-punishment-cane for just a single bad (or less than great) thing I did.

The punishment was usually in the living room, with no tv (except he played porn if he was in the mood for background entertainment), the drapes closed, the lights off. I’d be naked except for my panties and would lay over his lap. He’d warm me up with a hand-spanking that went on as long as he wanted it to. He’d strip off my panties (or leave them on) according to his mood. He’d finger me or not, again depending on his mood. I was allowed to talk about my week or what I’d done wrong, but not object — and we’d often do a lot of talking and have a lot of boyfriend-girlfriend sexual and relationship communication during this weekly maintenance punishment session that could last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, sometimes more. In a way, it kept me really IN COMMUNICATION with him. Not matter how busy life was, or whether we were individually happy or irritated with each other, there was always this time to talk things out while I was spanked, before either being subject to or escaping corporal punishment.

If corporal punishment (from the bean-jar) was due in addition to maintenance punishment, that would involve his belt or a drapery rod, something that would leave a mark and would graduate from being something that hurt (a hand-spanking on ass, tits and between my legs), but not too much (and could often be sexy too), to something that would actually be really painful, definitely not enjoyable, exceedingly unpleasant, totally not a turn-on, and would theoretically help me behave to his desires better going forward, since it was always painful in a non-sexy way and I didn’t like it. It was something I had to endure and put up with.

There was a big ottoman in the room, and I’d move to that and get on all fours and he’d stand up and swing his belt or the rod against my ass. Sometimes he put me on my back and used it between my legs or even across my tits, but usually not for the full number of earned strokes (times the dice). And remember, he sometimes gave me a pass on some of my “earned” beans, which I was always VERY GRATEFUL for when he gave me a last-minute reprieve and it made me like him a lot when it happened, and which I really appreciate him for, even though it’s a contradiction for me to write and think about him being “kind” for withholding full corporal punishment when there was a question of whether a man should physically punish his devoted and submissive sex-toy AT ALL!

It was definitely a contradiction for me to think of him as such a nice guy for not always following through on full corporal punishment when in reality I should think he was a bad guy for punishing me in a corporal manner in the first place!

But of course, I knew his interests going into the arrangement….damn the man. So he would say it was my fault that I was in the position of being subject to corporal punishment for screwing up, rather than just talking about it and talking through it like a normal couple would if I did something he didn’t like.

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