Quest to be the Perfect Wife

 I don't think this story will become another series. I kind of wrote it as a one off. Having said that, I feel like the cliff hanger it ends on probably deserves a chapter. There's a lot of ways this could go so I'm open to suggestions. Does he bang her half-sisters? Share her with the neighbors? Train her in demeaning ways? Or is it a twist and he tells her what he wants is her and only her and they live happily ever after (I know you guys aren't going for that one ;) Let me know.

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--I’m a bitch. I’m a lover. I’m a child. I’m a mother. I’m a sinner. I’m a saint.--

Those words could not be more true. When that song came out in 1997, I was 15 and a dumb kid. I’d sing and dance when that song came on and I imagined myself living a perfect life with a string of boys fawning over me and my pick of careers. I needed that escapism since right outside the plain white door of my bedroom was my domineering stepfather who sought to control every aspect of our family. He wasn’t awful. He was probably the best guy my Mom had been with actually. He didn’t hit her (like my dad) or sell drugs (like my half-sister Hannah’s dad) or fuck random dudes (like my other half-sister Dedra’s dad) or rob banks (like my OTHER half-sister Ava’s dad). Nope, this one was, instead, a lot like Gerald McRaney from “Major Dad”. He’d cleaned up my Mom and brought her back from the brink of depression. Of course he’d knocked her up. Everybody did. But unlike the rest, he showed her love and affection and actually stayed with her.

All that didn’t stop him from demanding that everything in our house was military grade perfection. And it didn’t stop him from controlling, regimenting and scheduling literally every aspect of our lives. But at least he wasn’t evil.

So it should come as no surprise that when I left for State, I kind of cut loose. If I’m being honest, I REALLY cut loose. I sewed the hell out of those oats. The first half of my freshman year was an absolute blur. I’m lucky to have not flunked out because I was drunk or high roughly 70% of my waking hours. When you’re young, you can get away with that shit, though. Thankfully, some of my stepfather’s indoctrination had rubbed off on me. It never even occurred to me to skip class. I blocked out specific study time. I even had a pretty diligent exercise routine (morning jogs while hungover are quite the ordeal, let me tell you). 

But I also did a lot of crazy and stupid things. A lot. Fucked a helluva a lot. Got my nipples pierced and a tattoo of a dragon on my thigh. I had a LOT of sex. I mean a LOT. Mostly guys. A few girls. Lots of groups. I loved it. It didn’t matter how perverse, degrading or humiliating it was. The single greatest night was pulling a train at a frat house and having all of the guys sign their name next to whichever hole they came in. I was covered in signatures and other, more humiliating, epithets and had cum all over me and didn’t even care. It was amazing.

I dated a series of guys, mostly losers. The controlling assholes really got my motor revving. Hey… at least I didn’t date a bank robber!

Somehow, none of it came back to haunt me which is ironic given what happened once I settled down some. And then, as so often happens, I met a guy. A great guy. Ryan Sterling. He was the first guy I ever really loved. I know that’s late to have a crush on someone but I did all the stupid things you do when you have a crush on someone. I wrote Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and Tiffany Sterling on my notebooks. I know because he framed one for me when he proposed… but that’s getting ahead of myself.

Ryan was a wonderful man. He was a walk on to the basketball team and still managed to pull straight A’s. Dating him really made me up my game which I desperately needed. I buckled down and stopped going to parties. He and I would have study dates and then have incredible sex. I’d had some crazy times before him but the sex with Ryan was absolutely the best I’d ever had. Our first time, he made me cum so much that I curled up in a ball and cried in happiness. When he hugged me in his arms and whispered that he loved me, I knew that he was the one.

Which was fortunate because condoms aren’t perfect and three months after we first started fucking, I was pregnant. With twins. While most freshmen are enjoying their first summer off, I was reading “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”. 

But, once again, Ryan was terrific. He proposed. He went with me when I had to tell my mom and stepdad. He went to every doctor’s appointment and handled everything. We were lucky that his family had some money and that our university had good support for married couples with children. As shitty as the situation had become, it sure could have been a lot worse.

--Life goes on. And so do we. Just how we do it is no mystery.--

And so it did. I dropped out of school and focused on getting Ryan his degree and raising the kids. Then he helped me get my career jump started when the twins began school. My friends and even some of my family thought I’d end up being a cliche, cautionary tale. The knocked up college girl who works part time jobs to put her husband through med school only to have him leave her when he graduates. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Instead, Ryan repaid the six years of effort while he was getting his undergrad and Masters by helping me jumpstart my own career when the twins started school. Without a college degree, I didn’t have too many options so I went into real estate. Just in time for the financial crisis. Fuck me, right?

Again, Ryan came to the rescue. His firm was looking to expand and Ryan convinced his boss to let me do the search for the new office. I hit it out of the park and found a beautiful new building that was perfect for the company. Suddenly, Sterling Realty LLC was a reality. While the residential market melted down, the commercial market was pretty hot. After two years, I was making as much as Ryan. By year four, I’d doubled his income. 

Ryan changed a little then. Now don’t get me wrong, he didn’t become some sniveling wimp or anything. But he just became less… in control. He’d defer to me on little things. On top of that, our sex life, already waning from the stress of two kids and two jobs, slowly dwindled to once a month. It was still good but nothing like it was when we were in college. 

Ryan kept doing all the other things a husband should do. Frankly, he did more than a husband should. He did his share of the chores in the house but insisted on doing all of the yard work or home repairs himself. He liked working with his hands and never complained. I’d stand in the kitchen and do the dishes while he built a fence in the backyard. I’d admire his well muscled back, glistening with sweat and fantasize about how things used to be. And then my mind would drift to how things might be someday.

Ryan coached our daughter’s basketball team. And when our son decided he didn’t like basketball and wanted to play soccer, Ryan got his coach’s license to coach him too. He completely stagnated his career when he did it though. You can’t leave at 3:30 four days a week and keep moving up the corporate ladder. He insisted that he made enough, especially with how much I made. He insisted that he got fulfillment from all the other stuff that he could do. But I wondered if it didn’t gnaw at him a little. I started to miss the little things. The little sarcastic barbs. The jokes and teasing. He just became… softer. And of course, I missed the sex. I’d gotten a taste for it in college and then Ryan had taken me to new heights. But then it had dried up. Slowly but inexorably. I knew he was watching porn more too. We’d never been shy about it before but we’d always watched it together. Now he watched it alone sometimes. I occasionally looked and was shocked at first. It was some pretty dark stuff. But then I thought back to my own past and realized that not a bit of it was something that I hadn’t done or fantasized about in the past. 

When the twins started planning for college, I started working on my own plan. At first, I tried to plant little seeds. I tried to be subtle. But Ryan, for all his good qualities, has never been one to pick up on the subtleties. When it became obvious that the kids both wanted to go away to school, I knew that my plan could be dialed up to 11. Ryan and I would be empty nesters at 37. Certainly that was never our plan but both the kids were getting scholarships and our lifestyle was going to be pretty incredible in short order. 

I started looking for houses with very specific criteria. I made phone calls to all of my broker friends and even had one of my employees work on it part time. It was my side project for the kids’ entire senior year but finally I found the perfect house. What was tricky was buying it myself. Keeping it a secret from Ryan. I had to tuck it into an LLC owned by the real estate company. But I closed on it in April, just in time.

The week the kids left was hard. I was crying because my babies were leaving me. I was also a bundle of nerves, unsure of what I was doing. Whether or not it would work. But I knew I needed this. I knew what I wanted. When the day arrived, I left Ryan a note that simply said, “Baby, I love you. Come to 343 Piney Brook. Come with an open mind and I promise you’ll love it. PS You’ll need the new key that’s on your keychain.”

I drove to the house. As I got out, I felt the cool breeze whip around my coat. I held it tightly around myself, lest any of our new neighbors saw what I was wearing underneath. The only sounds were the howl of the wind and the clacking sound of my heels on the paving stones of the front steps. I took the pristine golden key from my pocket and slid it into the lock. I was momentarily distracted by how satisfying I always found that to be. A new key in a new lock just slides in effortlessly. Just like Ryan’s cock would hopefully be doing later. I gave a quiet chuckle at my own little personal joke and walked in. The house was completely bare. No furniture. No drapes even. It wasn’t a particularly obvious location for the kinkiness I had in mind. 

There were two coat closets just inside the door. I opened the first one and hung up my long coat. Now I was standing there wearing only a garter belt and stockings, heels and a studded collar. The thrill of wearing it while I drove over here had left me dripping and fully aware of the emptiness in my core. My pussy clenched at nothing as I imagined what Ryan would do to me. I hoped he would understand. I needed him to.

I slipped my fingers into my coat pocket, pulling out the letter I’d prepared. Then I opened the second coat closet and felt around. This was the reason I’d bought this house. This closet was slightly bigger than the other one. It had space off to the right that you wouldn’t notice unless you knew what to look for. “The previous owner must have been incredibly paranoid,” I though not for the first time. I finally found the small recessed handle and the switch inside. Clicking it, I gave the hidden door a little push. A light flicked on automatically and I could see the stairs that descended down to the basement. I left the doors both open intentionally so Ryan would find me easily. Walking downstairs, I saw the completed project for the first time.

I’d had work crews in all week converting the basement. It had formerly been a safe room and storage area. I wasn’t really sure whether the previous owner was more worried about home invasion or a nuclear apocalypse. Or both, maybe? Who knows. I’d had the place gutted and fully converted into a unique combination of man cave and sex dungeon.

There was a bar area at the bottom with a dark oak liquor cabinet. Right now it was sparsely filled with only a couple bottles that I’d brought over the day before. There was a huge TV on the wall and a massive leather sectional. A pool table and a poker table were on one side of the massive room. And the other side had all the interesting stuff.

--You see these shackles, baby. I’m your slave. I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave. It’s just that no one makes me feel this way.--

A large wooden X stood as the centerpiece to that half of the room. There were cuffs on each leg and I could already picture myself restrained on it. Along the wall was a wide assortment of spanking implements. I’d literally bought one of everything at the local sex shop. Riding crops, cat-o-nine-tails, paddles, whips. You name it, we had one. Underneath it was a row of dildos and vibrators with a huge, massive strap on prominently displayed. I really, really hopes that that particular item wouldn’t go unnoticed. My eyes flicked to the other devices in the room. A chair with a mechanized piston at the base. A small set of very carefully arranged pipes that I knew would lock me in a completely immobile and completely vulnerable position. There were hooks on the ceilings. Another wall with rope, cuffs and spreader bars. It looked like something straight out of a porno. A really sexy, german fetish porn though.

I checked my watch, Ryan would be getting home any minute which gave me about ten minutes before he got here. I picked up a sharpie off the bar and, with trembling hands, started writing on myself. The last time I’d done this it had been done to me. A bunch of frat guy signatures to mark their territory. Today I was doing it to myself. Writing whatever came to mind. “Slut” was the first thing I wrote. I watched myself in the mirror as I put the big block letters right across my forehead.

Then I wrote “Pinch me” on one breast and “Hurt me” on the other. Then “Useless fuck hole” and arrows pointing to my cunt. I kept writing and as I did, it became increasingly more humiliating and degrading. Of course my cunt loved it. I didn’t stop until the alarm on my phone went off. Ryan would be here any minute. I looked in the mirror. I was covered in filthy, awful things. I was perfect. That night at the frat house had left a mark on me. I still remembered how utterly pathetic and used I’d felt. And how turned on I’d been because of that feeling. I needed to feel that again. 

I quickly ran up the stairs and dropped the letter at the front door. I glanced out the window and saw Ryan’s car driving up the street. Shit. I needed to hurry. I rushed back down the stairs, careful not to trip. What a comically disastrous ending to my plan that would be. I went to the wall and yanked a ring gag off, quickly placing it in my mouth and locking it into place. My mouth was wide open, unable to be closed. One last glance in the mirror confirmed how utterly whorish I looked. I swiped my fingers down my wet gash, feeling the electricity run through me as I grazed my clit. I was so fucking turned on. I heard the door click open. 

“Tiffany?”

I ran to the wooden cross and strapped my ankles into place. Then I secured my left wrist before working the cuff on the right wrist into place. I’d practiced this one part for weeks now. It wasn’t easy but I knew exactly how to move my fingers and position my wrist to do it one handed. 

“Tiffany? What’s this all about? What the fuck does this mean?”

He’d found the letter. Did he sound angry? No. Confused? Yeah, probably. God I hoped that’s all it was. I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. I saw his feet first, treading carefully down the dark, narrow path down. Then I saw the letter in his hand, he was rereading it, probably trying to make sure he fully understood it. I’d agonized over every word. I’d crafted the letter as the first step of this plan. Putting words to paper had made it more tangible for me. It was a committing act mentally if not in actuality. I knew all the words by heart.

“Dear Ryan, you have been wonderful and perfect for me for the past 19 years. No matter what has happened in our life, you have supported me. You treat me like a princess and I love you for that. I love knowing that you’ll be there every night when I come home. I love knowing that your arms are the ones I want to fall asleep in forever. 

It’s for those reasons and so many more that I want to do this for you. I want to be the perfect wife for you. I know you’ll say I’m already perfect for you but I’m not. Not in my mind. And so, while I’m giving you this one, amazing gift, I have to ask you one last favor. Understand that I need this. I need you to take control of me, Master. I need you to mold me and use me in literally whatever way you want. If you want it, I want it. I promise I will never judge you. I will never challenge you. I will never demand anything of you. When we’re in this house, there are no limits. Ever. I still want to be your princess. I still want you to be the man I married. But in this place, I want you to be 100% selfish.

I love you, Tiffany.”

He was still reading when he got down the stairs and looked up at me, “Tiff… oh my God… Tiffany?!” he exclaimed and ran over. “What happ…”

I interrupted him with a vigorous shake of my head as I batted his hand away from the cuffs he was instinctively trying to unclasp.

“Tiffany? This letter… what…?”

I looked at him, realizing that maybe the gag was a bad idea. I managed to murmur a barely intelligible, “Uh letter expains ut aw, Aster.”

“What?”

I looked at the letter he’d dropped pointedly, gesturing with my head. He followed my gaze and remembered the letter then looked back at me. He studied me for a moment and suddenly I was thrown back almost two decades. I remembered the night we met and how he’d watched me from across the room. It was like he was looking into my soul. He was doing it now. Studying me. Thinking. He watched me for what seemed like forever. I watched him back, desperate to know what he was thinking. I looked at his cock. It was obviously hard. That had to be a good sign, right?

“I love you,” he finally said.

“I luf ooo too,” I said.

“Do you understand what you’re giving me?” he asked.

I nodded vigorously.

He started taking his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt, “If we go down this path, I’ll do exactly what you said in your letter. I’ll be 100% selfish. Is that what you want?”

My heart raced. Yes. Yes it’s what I wanted. I just nodded, however. 

“You’ll have no free will when I want. Not just in this house but whenever I want.”

My breath caught. He did understand! I’d made this place for him thinking that he’d need a place to feel safe. But I wanted so much more.

“You’re still my princess. But now you’re my slut,” he said and he stepped close to me, sliding his fingers into my sopping cunt. 

“Es, Aster,” I said. 

“I’ll use you. I’ll let others use you. I’ll make you watch as I fuck other women. I’ll leave you empty and edging for days on end. I’ll shatter your pathetic little mind and rebuild you into whatever the fuck I want.”

“Pease!” I begged. I should have known he’d understand. I should have known I could tell him all this before. 

“Good girl,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, I saw him grab the leather riding crop. “Now let’s see what we can do about breaking you down and making you useful again.”

His smile sent a shiver down my back. I was finally getting what I needed. I was finally going to be a perfect wife.