Tymber Dalton - Domme By Default

His cock stood straight up in his lap.

I leaned against the doorjamb. "Have you behaved yourself?"

He nodded. "I had to scratch but I didn't play with myself, Mistress."

I fought—and lost—against the urge to laugh. "That's okay. Scratching is allowed." I nodded, indicating his erection.

"You ready to do something about that?"

He eagerly nodded.

"Shut down your computer and get your ass in bed so I can fuck you." I was already wet again.

The man could move wicked fast. I think he bypassed the normal shutdown and simply held the power button. He zipped past me and landed on our bed, wiggled his ass at me.

I couldn't help it. I laughed again. He was so damn cute like this.

At least I knew I wouldn't have to worry about him cheating on me.

Later that night as he folded his body around me, pressed against my back, his arm draped around my waist, I closed my eyes and knew somehow, some way, we'd make this work. I'd quit making the mistake that it was all on my shoulders to figure it out. I would involve him in the process, ask for input, tell him what I needed.

We could do this.

She came home!

Oh thank you, God, she came home!

And she still wants me.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as she lay sleeping in my arms.

The next night, as soon he got home from work and before he could strip, we went through our collar ritual. I never realized how important this all was to him until now, I think. I paid attention this time, thanks to my talks with Tony. I watched as my husband actually relaxed, tension draining from him as I buckled the collar around his neck and snapped the lock shut.

I'd never noticed that before.

Maybe there were a lot of things I'd never noticed before in my attempts to do everything the right way for him.

He took my hand and kissed it, nuzzled it against his cheek. "Thank you, Mistress," he said, as if a sigh of relief escaped him.

"Go get naked, sweetie."

He stood, walked to our bedroom and stripped. He returned to me, knelt before me.

"Come on," I said. "I want to show you something."

With a puzzled look, but without question, he followed me out to the garage. I'd already prepared. I indicated a large, folded towel neatly laid on the floor. "Stand there," I indicated, then sat on the stool in front of the tool bench.

I didn't want his feet getting cold on the concrete floor.

Emptying the tool bag, I went through each tool with him.

Some he already knew, duh, he's not a moron. The ones he knew, I let him return to the tool bag. The ones he didn't we went through several times, their names and basic functions, how they differed from similar tools and why I might ask for one instead of another.

After an hour I was starving and knew he had to be hungry, too.

"Any questions?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, Mistress. I don't know if I'll remember them all though."

I smiled. "That's all right. We'll keep going through them until you do. Okay?"

He nodded and smiled and I took a deep breath. I could do this. I sent him to go start dinner and gently swatted his ass as he passed me.

He turned and grinned and my heart did little summersaults in my chest. Jesus I loved this man.

I quizzed him each night after he got home from work.

There was no punishment for forgetting, but every time he got one right I reached over and stroked his cock.

He worked really hard to remember.

I had a purpose for this. On Saturday, I planned to change out the kitchen faucet, which was dripping. Since the damn thing was so old it was far easier to replace the whole thing with a newer style rather than trying to gut the old one to replace a washer.

Saturday morning, I lined up everything I thought I'd need and made him empty out the cabinet below the sink. He looked nervous.

I couldn't blame him.

I was so proud of him. He gained confidence with everything he did right. When I kept my cool the one time he got confused, he tried even harder to please me. By the time we finished a half hour later, I had a new faucet and he had a raging hard-on I couldn't wait to relieve him of.

I stood up and gently swatted his ass. "Clean up those tools for me, then go get your ass in bed."

He hungrily kissed me. "Yes, Mistress."

I couldn't help but laugh when he jumped into bed, practically on top of me, fifteen minutes later. I had him kneel while I slid his medium-sized butt plug in, which had him squirming under my hands. Then he went down on me and sent me into orbit.

The Man With the Golden Tongue has never failed me.

I crooked my finger at him and he fucked his rock hard cock inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and reached behind him and gently pressed on the butt plug.

"Oh, fuck!" he moaned, taking a few hard strokes before he came.

I held him, refusing to release him. I stroked his hair and trailed my fingers down his back.

God I loved this man.

We had a lot of talks over the next week after her return. I began to understand her point of view. I thought she'd enjoy what we did because I thought all women dreamed of a guy slaving over them.

I didn't understand at all.

I thought I did.

But I started to.

I felt uncomfortable with that role at first, what she wanted and needed on occasion. I replayed my conversation with Tony on the phone, the things he'd told me that I resented and didn't understand then. How dare he try to tell me he knew my wife better than I did?

I realized he was right. Then it finally clicked home for me that I wanted to serve her in all ways. Serving her meant giving her what she needed, not just what I wanted to give her.

He'd called me a selfish sub, but had said it matter-of-factly as he explained it was a common newbie mistake in a relationship like ours.

At the time his words stung. If he'd been standing in front of me I would have decked the bastard.

He was right. This couldn't all be about me.

She needed me. She had tried so hard to do this for me and I never once asked her what I could do for her in this way. I was doing what I wanted to do, even though she benefitted from it.

I had never sat down and asked her what her needs were the way she'd sat down and tried to figure out and meet mine. She never asked for things for herself. Her focus was always on me.

Tony's words finally made sense.

If I wanted to really be a sub, I needed to serve my Mistress. That meant serving Her, not just playing a one-sided game for my benefit.

As that realization sank in, I knew I could do this for Her and still be Her sub. Mistress wanted me to do and be things for Her on occasion. I was serving Her needs by doing that.

Suddenly, I wanted to do it more than anything.

I planned.

The weekend after I helped her with the faucet, she ran out on Saturday afternoon to do errands. I watched her car pull out of the driveway, and when I knew she'd really gone I raced to the bedroom.

It felt wrong taking my collar off. She'd placed it around my neck the night before when I got home, our daily ritual that I craved. Because it was a Friday night I would normally wear it until Monday morning.

I put it on the dresser and put my day collar on my wrist, enjoyed the heavy feel of the ID bracelet. I was still her sub and hoped she didn't mind I needed this tangible sign of my role for her.

I knew what she'd like. I dressed, leaving my underwear off. I put on work slacks—khakis—and a button-up shirt. A tie.