Jason watched Sandra leave the room, frozen in place, his mind a whirl of confusion. What had just happened? What had come over his wife? The sudden shift in their dynamic, her assertive control, left him disoriented. Yet beneath the bewilderment, a spark of excitement flickered. He had always, secretly, enjoyed it when she took charge, when she dictated the terms of their intimacy. But this… this was different. He had never seen her like this. His small penis, sensitive as ever to his emotional state, pulsed with a fresh, undeniable excitement.
He retrieved his shaving kit and stepped into the shower instead of the tub, figuring he should shave first. He turned on the water, letting it warm, and began shaving. Dark swathes of hair fell away, from his stomach to halfway down his thighs, and even between his cheeks, as best he could. After a few minutes, he was mostly clean. He paused, catching his reflection in the mirror. He actually kind of liked the smooth, bare expanse of skin—but he admitted to himself that it made his penis look even smaller, and he certainly didn’t need that.
Then his gaze drifted to the tub. He could have stayed in the shower, but something made him hesitate. It felt like it would be a betrayal. Sandra had wanted him to use her bath. It wasn’t much different from the times they had shared a bath… just not as warm.
With a quiet reverence, he stepped into the water. It still held a trace of warmth as he sank in, washing himself in the same water that had just caressed her body. Somehow, it carried a unique significance. He liked the idea of being immersed in her presence, even indirectly, the water almost brushing against him as if she were there with him. He could have added hot water, but doing so felt wrong. It would dilute the intimacy, lessen the quiet, electric connection he felt in that shared ritual.
Jason, towel-dried and feeling unusually cleansed, began putting his clothes back on—then froze. He had forgotten Sandra’s orders about wearing her panties. They lay there, a delicate wisp of lace and silk, stark against the coarser fabric of his own boxers. He picked them up, letting his fingers brush the surprisingly soft material. A faint, sweet scent—undeniably Sandra’s—clung to them. Turning them over, a shiver, entirely unbidden, traced down his spine. The crotch was unmistakably damp. Not just a subtle hint, but unmistakable wetness, a testament to their recent, intimate use. The thought of wearing them sent a wave of heat and burgeoning excitement through him. He knew the moisture was a complex blend of his own eager saliva from earlier and, unmistakably, Sandra’s natural lubrication.
The realization triggered a fresh surge of adrenaline.
As he looked down, he noticed how ridiculously small the panties were—far too tight for him, he knew with certainty. Even at their most relaxed, his anatomy would find them a formidable challenge. Yet any thought of disobedience—of refusing this unspoken but powerfully felt directive—was completely absent. Instead, a potent mix of apprehension and eager anticipation swirled inside him. He was captivated by the delicious uncertainty of what this unexpected turn in their evening might become. The bedroom, he suspected, held the answers to the rest of this unfolding mystery.
He hesitated for only a moment, the audacity of the act almost stopping him. But the thrill, the illicit charge coursing through him, propelled him forward. He stripped again and, carefully, almost reverently, pulled the delicate fabric up his legs. The moment the elastic waistband settled against his hips, pressing into his skin, the dampness in the crotch came into contact with his most sensitive regions. A jolt—electric and immediate—ran through him.
His erection, which had begun to subside after the bath, surged back with astonishing intensity, straining against the unfamiliar constraint. He looked down, a flush creeping across his neck and cheeks. The panties were absurdly tight. The waistband dug into his flesh, the fabric stretched to its absolute limit. The head of his penis, hard and insistent, barely peeked out above the restrictive elastic. The sight was both mortifying and, unexpectedly, intensely arousing. He felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely empowered by his submission. The panties, shaped for a woman’s curves, emphasized his smallness, and that very vulnerability only amplified his desire. He had no idea that this was precisely what Sandra intended.
A few minutes later, clad in Sandra’s intimate apparel, he found himself at the threshold of their bedroom. His hand hovered over the doorknob, his heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against his ribs. He paused, a slow, almost mischievous smile spreading across his face. This was more than just a game; it was an exploration, a deviation from their usual roles, and he found himself relishing every moment. He decided to play along, to embrace the theatricality of it all, even if this was his own bedroom. With a light, deliberately hesitant touch, he rapped his knuckles against the solid wood of the door.
“Come in,” Sandra’s voice, warm and knowing, drifted from within. She had, of course, hoped for the knock. Hearing it sent her heart racing with a heady kind of power, something she had never felt before except maybe when she won a particularly difficult case and knew she could laud it over her opposing attorney.
Jason pushed the door open and stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The sight that greeted him was breathtaking. Sandra, his gorgeous, radiant wife, was sprawled on their bed. Her legs were an open invitation.
He had this incredible sexy look on her face. Even from his vantage point at the doorway, he could see the glistening sheen of her wetness between her legs, a testament to her own readiness, her own desire. The air in the room seemed to hum with a palpable energy, charged with anticipation.
“Oh, I love that look,” Sandra purred, her gaze sweeping over him, lingering on the absurdly tight panties. A tinkling giggle followed, a sound that sent another wave of heat through Jason. “Your little guy barely makes it out of the top.”
Jason felt his face burn, a deep, mortification-tinged blush that he couldn’t suppress. He was acutely aware of his exposed state, of the ridiculousness of his attire, yet the look in Sandra’s eyes, the undisguised pleasure she took in his discomfort, was an intoxicating aphrodisiac. In spite of everything, he felt his little penis pulse.
“Pull the front down. I want to see you bare,” Sandra said.
Again, Jason blushed, but he pulled the tight elastic out and down, exposing his totally hairless groin.
“Oh my, I love that. It’s perfect. You will do that daily from now on, or maybe we will get you waxed like me,” Sandra said.
Again, Jason wanted to protest but bit his tongue. His face flushed at the thought of some strange woman waxing him.
“I think, as far as wearing the panties goes,” Sandra continued, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, “I think you should wear them under your clothes from now on. I like to think of you in my used panties. It will remind you of me all the time. I like that. Maybe I can get some that tie at the hip so you will have more room.”
Jason’s mouth opened, a protest already forming on his lips. He wanted to voice his disbelief, to articulate how utterly absurd this proposition was. But still, words caught in his throat. He saw the spark in Sandra’s eyes, the promise of something new, something exciting, something that transcended his initial reservations. He knew that to argue, to resist, would be to extinguish the very flame that had been ignited between them tonight. They could discuss the implications, the practicalities, the sheer outlandishness of it all later. For now, the present moment, filled with Sandra’s undeniable excitement and his own burgeoning sense of submission, was all that mattered.
“Come here,” she commanded, her voice a silken thread weaving through the charged atmosphere. “I need that mouth on me right now.”
A wide smile, genuine and eager, spread across Jason’s face. He was a bit surprised that she wanted him to eat her again so soon. But maybe it was because he had done it through her panties. Still, he was more than happy to oblige. The prospect of pleasuring Sandra again, of delving into the depths of her desire, was something he craved perhaps even more than she did. It had always been one of his greatest joys, a source of profound satisfaction. And now, with this new layer of intimacy, this exploration of her body that she had so generously allowed, particularly the daring exploration of her backside, there was an even greater landscape to discover.
He hurried to the bed, his movements eager, almost clumsy in his haste. He crawled onto the mattress, positioning himself between her parted legs. As he settled in, he watched, mesmerized, as she widened the invitation, her thighs parting further, a silent gesture of complete surrender.
He had performed this act countless times, but now, in this moment, it felt different, imbued with a profound sense of significance. His mind was still a whirlwind of the evening’s unexpected turns, but one certainty remained: his ability to bring Sandra pleasure. Sandra moaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through him as he gently lifted her thighs, resting them on his shoulders. The soft skin of her inner thighs brushed against his cheeks, sending shivers of delight through him. He began to explore, tracing the delicate curves with his tongue, moving from the soft, yielding flesh of one thigh to the other, a slow, tantalizing dance. Back and forth he moved, his movements growing bolder, more insistent, until Sandra’s hands reached out, her fingers gently but firmly gripping his head, pulling him closer, guiding him to her swollen and wet pussy.
A shared moan escaped their lips as his tongue delved deep, sinking into her, and her juices immediately overflowed, a testament to the raw, unadulterated pleasure she was experiencing.
He pulled back, a moment of deliberate pause, his lips dripping with her fluids already. He stared at her swollen clitoris. It needed attention. He immediately began to tease her, his tongue tracing delicate circles, his lips gently nipping at the swollen, sensitive bud. It felt like a hard pebble, or more like a precious and rare pearl. He knew Sandra’s preference for prolonged pleasure, for the exquisite agony of being brought to the precipice and held there.
He tempered his own enthusiasm, moving his mouth higher, then lower, his kisses tracing a path up to her navel and then back down again. He felt the subtle shift in her hips, a rising tension that signaled her imminent release. He realized with delight that she wanted this climax to be a quick one. He plunged deeper, his tongue working its magic, and heard her loud moan, her hands pressing down on his head, urging him on. She climaxed hard, a long, shuddering wave of pleasure that seemed to last an eternity, before her hips finally stilled, her body relaxing against his.
As Jason began to pull away, her hands immediately gripped his head again, preventing his retreat. He stopped, a knowing smile on his face, and gently resumed kissing her, a soft, tender caress, avoiding her clit for now. He lost himself in exploring her folds, searching for every sensitive area he could find. While he had done this many times, for some reason, it was if he was feeling and seeing her beautiful and amazing lips for the first time. She possessed a work of art, perfect in every way. He then burned the sight and feel of every nook and cranny into his mind. He couldn’t believe now that he had neglected this. He was determined to make up for it.
He understood that Sandra often desired multiple orgasms, that one peak was merely the prelude to a more profound experience. He bided his time, allowing her body to recover, to absorb the intensity of her previous release.
Some time later, he felt the familiar pressure of her hands on his head, the subtle signal that she was ready for more. He dove in again, not gently this time, but eagerly, hungrily. His own energy was multiplied by the delay in his own release. He was as hard as he had ever been and was amazed that he had not accidentally climaxed.
This time, she was even wetter, almost gushing, her body responding with renewed fervor. He pressed deeper, his cheeks growing slick with her juices, the sensation exhilarating. He took her to another peak, a second, equally powerful climax that left her breathless and trembling. Yet, even as her body began to settle, she still didn’t allow him to pull away.
Sandra lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed, a look of pure bliss etched on her face. She couldn’t quite comprehend the intensity of her orgasms. It was as if her body had unlocked a new capacity for pleasure, a reservoir of sensation she hadn’t known existed. She knew, with a certainty that settled deep within her soul, that it was a combination of the knowledge she had gleaned from her reading and the intimate exploration she was now experiencing with Jason. This was a level of arousal, a depth of satisfaction, that she had never encountered before.
Who could have imagined the sheer, intoxicating power of total control over her husband? It was a revelation, a profound understanding of what the concept of Female-Led Relationships truly entailed, and why so many women were discovering its transformative potential. The realization settled upon her, a warm, comforting blanket of empowerment, and she tightened her grip on Jason’s head, a silent command that he understood implicitly. His life was going to change rapidly now, even if Jason didn’t know it yet.
She climaxed for a third and fourth time before she finally let Jason raise his head. He had been between her legs for well over an hour. He gazed up at her with a look she had never seen. Yes, there was love, but there was something else. She surmised that he also felt the change, and it was having a profound impact on him as well.
He pulled back and got to his knees. His little penis was still sticking above the panties, and the head was impossibly swollen and dripping. She could see he had stretched the elastic of the panties so much that they would be no use to her anymore. She knew she would have to get new panties if she was going to make him wear them for a while, or maybe she would just get him his own. She liked that idea too. She imagined him going into the ladies’ department and picking out panties while she directed him. She shivered with excitement at the possibilities.
Sandra stated, “I’ve had a rather demanding day, so I’ll be retiring for the night.”
Jason was taken aback. He found it difficult to comprehend that she intended to depart from him in such a manner. “But… but what about me?” he nearly pleaded.
“What about you? You have not yet earned your release,” she replied.
“Why? I have made you climax multiple times,” he countered, his tone more of a whine than a protest.
“Jason, you must recall that we established a female-led partnership when we got married, which means I hold the reins. I acknowledge that this aspect of our lives has become somewhat lax, but that era has concluded. As I am in command, this extends to your personal intimacies and the timing of your release. We made this agreement the day we married and you consented. We both understand your submissive nature, and submissives require guidance. You manage the household, and I oversee all else. Consequently, I determine when and if you achieve climax, and tonight is definitely not that occasion,” she declared.
“I don’t understand,” he confessed. “While we may not have adhered to every stipulation, marriages do evolve.”
“Does this imply you no longer wish to be in an FLR?” Sandra inquired, her expression serious.
Jason was taken aback by her question. A moment passed before he responded, “No… I mean, I cherished our relationship, but you’ve been so preoccupied, and…”
Sandra interjected, “That is accurate. We both strayed from our intended path. And I find the current state of affairs quite dissatisfying. It once functioned with such exquisite harmony, and I am eager to reclaim that.”
Jason found himself without words.
Sandra continued, “Why did we deviate from the established order? I recall your being exceptionally devoted and affectionate. You could not do enough to please me. You would anticipate my arrival home from work with my wine prepared and would massage my feet without prompting. Then, you simply ceased. I concede that some of this is my responsibility… perhaps more than just some. I became so engrossed in my career that I neglected to address your behavior, allowing it to persist for far too long. This will be rectified. We must both dedicate the majority of our free time to our marriage if it is to endure.”
Those words instilled a sense of dread in Jason. With a tremor in his voice and tears welling in his eyes, he asked, “Does this mean we will no longer… you know, engage in… you know, sex?”
“Of course we will,” Sandra stated emphatically.
Jason was relieved momentarily.
“We have just been intimate. While you did not achieve release, that does not negate the pleasure you experienced, does it?”
Jason remained stunned for a beat before replying, “Uh… yes, I did derive pleasure. I have always enjoyed pleasing you with my mouth,” he admitted.
Sandra nodded her head and continued. “I have been delving into male psychology and the intricacies of male sexual function. Men, regardless of their assertions, do not require release to experience sexual pleasure. I understand this may not be entirely clear to you yet, but it will become so. Regrettably, for an extended period, once you experienced your pleasure, whether with me or through your own actions, I became secondary. This too will change. Over the past year, you would engage with me, and not with exceptional effort, and then I would facilitate your release or you would do so yourself. Afterward, you would turn away and sleep. I require more than that.”
Jason remained silent, recognizing the truth in her words. Sandra stated, “Furthermore, we have abstained from penetrative intercourse for a year, and the reasons for this are understood. That has been a sacrifice for me.”
“We can go back to doing it,” Jason said hopefully.
Sandra shook her head sadly. “Jason, you know your little penis can never satisfy me. I endured that for four long years before I realized that it was never going to work. You and I both know that, so there is no need for further discussion on that matter. There are also numerous other issues requiring our attention, some of considerable gravity. We will address those tomorrow. For now, however, I expect you to cease all forms of masturbation, without exception. It is a sign of disrespect towards me and our marriage.”
Jason opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.
“Jason, my love for you remains profound. You are my soulmate, and we have shared a remarkable journey, until roughly the last year or so, and as I mentioned, I bear some responsibility for that. This is not about past grievances. This is about our shared future and the path ahead. Be aware that a multitude of new regulations will be implemented. One such regulation is the absolute prohibition of your masturbation, effective immediately. Well, unless I expressly authorize it, contingent upon your conduct. Now, as I said, I am fatigued. Join me in bed and spoon me.”
Tears were still in Jason’s eyes as he crawled up behind Sandra and snuggled into her. He gasped when his still-hard penis, at least the tip sticking above the waistband, touched her naked buttocks. He almost spurted. When he got control of himself, he lay there for a long time trying to figure out what was going on. Several times he almost got up and went into the bathroom and jerked off. He decided that Sandra would probably know, and things could get even worse. He figured that this was just a stage she was going through. He knew that she was angry and frustrated with his lack of attention. They would work it all out tomorrow.
To Be Continued