The Path to a Female Led Marriage - Part 2

Click here to read the first part of the story.

---

In hindsight, I fully earned the second belt spanking I received from Erin.

I was due to meet her for lunch. When I arrived at the restaurant - a Parisian-style cafe with lots of baked goods, sandwiches, soups, etc - I saw her sitting with another man. I approached right as the guy made Erin laugh quite joyously at something. Looking back, I'm fairly certain that's what triggered the jealousy.

Erin saw me right as I neared the table. She looked up and smiled.

"Who's this?" I said in that insecure way that men sometimes do.

"This is Mark. He was behind me in line when I was ordering my drink," Erin explained as she gestured to the cappuccino in the elegant cup in front of her.

Mark stood and offered his hand. I shook it while staring him down like he was a threat to my marriage.

"Mark, this is my husband Dan," Erin said.

Mark smiled, either utterly oblivious to the bout of insecurity I was going through or simply unfazed by it. "Dan, it's a pleasure to meet you. You're a lucky man, your wife is about as charming as a woman gets."

I glanced at Erin and the smile on her face further enflamed my jealousy.

If you're thinking that I shouldn't have been jealous, that I should have been excited given my stated desire to be cuckolded...well, you're right about that. I wasn't thinking about cuckolding, though. I was, in that moment, being ruled by something far from rational thought.

"Well, Mark, it's a pleasure to meet you too. Now if you wouldn't mind, my charming wife and I are going to have lunch."

"Of course. Of course. Enjoy your lunch."

Mark took his cup - he seemed to have ordered a black coffee - and I sat where he'd been.

"What was that?" Erin asked. She was not happy. I could hear it in her voice, though the look on her face made it even more obvious.

"What do you mean?"

She said nothing. I stared at her. She stared at me.

I took a deep breath. "I don't know what that was. I saw you sitting with him and I got jealous in a way I'm not sure I've ever been jealous, and it's not like you were doing anything other than talking to a guy."

"I was flirting," she said.

I stared.

"That's what you want, right?" Erin asked. "That's the thing that really turns you on, right? Your wife having fun with other men?"

She seemed annoyed. Even angry. I wasn't sure it if was my fantasy or my reaction to seeing her talking with another man that had annoyed her, though.

"Yes," I said meekly. Far too meekly, in fact. I was immediately embarrassed at my inability to embrace my fantasy.

"Interesting, because for someone that fantasizes about his wife having sex with other men, you sure didn't act like it. Instead, Dan, you acted like an insecure asshole."

Yeah, she was definitely annoyed and maybe full on angry.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I really don't know what came over me."

Erin finished her cappuccino, grabbed her purse, and stood. I figured we were going inside to order, but she headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Back to work. I'm not interested in having lunch with you. I'll see you when I get home."

Erin left without looking back. I followed to try and make it better. I apologized profusely as she strode towards her car. I did the same thing as she opened the door. I did so at a higher volume as she got in, shut the door, and started the car.

When Erin rolled down the window I thought there was a chance she'd forgive me and we could have our lunch together. "I'm angry at you. Perhaps that's not entirely fair, but for a man that has talked a great deal about his wife having sex with other men, your reaction to me gently flirting with someone feels insane."

"It is. I agree. It is. I'm sorry, Erin."

"It also makes it clear that you could never handle your fantasy becoming reality."

I wanted to deny that - I really did want to be cuckolded - but it seemed foolish in the moment. After all, I'd kind of freaked out at seeing her talking with another man. Would I really be able to handle her having sex with another man?

"I know you have work to do, but I'd like all the laundry to be finished before I get home. Make sure you take care when folding my clothes."

"Okay. Of course. I'll do that. Of course I will."

Erin closed the window, backed out of her space, and drove away. I felt defeated as I watched her go. I turned towards the restaurant and saw Mark walking through the parking lot. He glanced at me and nodded. He seemed friendly enough, but I wanted to punch him in the face.

I got my lunch to go and headed home. I ate in front of my computer, cleaned up, and got started with the laundry. I'd done it often enough not to fuck it up, but it should be pointed out that laundry was one of Erin's household chores. I knew very well that I'd been assigned to it as a punishment of sorts.

Despite my regret at how I'd handled the sight of Erin flirting with another man, I did find myself feeling a bit excited that she'd punished me. It felt like a further sign that she was interested in pursuing the kind of marriage that was undergirded by a certain kind of kink. The kind where the wife is in control, where she makes the rules, where the husband is punished for failing to follow those rules. Judge me if you want, but I can't help but want to be in that kind of marriage.

It wasn't until I'd started on the laundry that it dawned on me that Erin's flirtation at the restaurant might have been her way of testing the waters where cuckolding was concerned. She wasn't someone that flirted with other men, after all, and yet she'd seemingly been more than happy to do so while waiting for me to arrive for lunch.

I couldn't help but feel a deep, nearly overwhelming sense of frustration, entirely because I'd fucked up. My wife - possibly, at least - had been testing the waters of cuckolding - in a very simple way - and I'd acted like a jealous idiot. I'd probably either completely extinguished or delayed any shot I had at being cuckolded, at living out that rather potent fantasy of mine.

I texted Erin to let her know I'd started the laundry. I apologized again, too. She didn't respond.

I didn't hear from her until she got home. She popped her head into my office and said, "Follow me." I dutifully got up and followed my wife to the bedroom. Once inside she held out her hand. I was utterly baffled.

"Sorry, what's going on?"

"Your belt."

I took off my belt. I handed it to her.

"Lower your pants and underwear."

I did so.

"Bend over the bed."

I did so. My wife then belted my ass. Ten strokes. Each more painful than the last. There was - and this is important - not even an ounce of pleasure in it. I'm not a masochist. Not in any way. I am, however, a man that yearns to be in a relationship where my wife takes charge, where she is the dominant once, where she is the confident decision maker. I am also, as it turns out, kind of excited by the idea of punishment being a part of that relationship, because despite the pain there was a level of excitement that I found both baffling and thrilling.

"Thank you," I said as I pulled my underwear up.

Erin set my belt on the bed and smiled. "You're welcome."

Then she kissed me. It was long and slow and soft and beautiful. It felt like she was telling me that all was forgiven, that the punishment had washed away my infraction. It was really kind of beautiful and I felt lighter and happier when it was over.

I would have enjoyed having sex with her - the kiss made me hard - but Erin wasn't interested. Instead, we had dinner. She'd picked up take out and we unboxed it and sat at the kitchen table to enjoy the food from our favorite Thai place.

"I enjoyed flirting with Mark," she said soon after we'd dug into our food.

I stopped chewing on the noodles in my mouth.

Erin smiled and a quick laugh followed. All of the anger she'd felt earlier that day seemed to have disappeared and I couldn't help but wonder if she was actually well-suited to the kind of relationship where she could spank me and clear the decks on any frustration thanks to the release of delivering a punishment spanking.

"He was the one that initiated the flirting, actually. He complimented my heels, believe it or not. I hadn't even noticed him standing behind me as I'd been a little too engrossed in my phone."

I'd resumed chewing and had since swallowed, allowing me to respond. "And...I mean, you're not usually someone who flirts, so what made you do it today?"

"You," she said. "We've talked more about your fantasy in the past two weeks than in the rest of our marriage combined, so it's been on my mind. A handsome man started flirting with me and the first thought that ran through my mind was that I'm married to a man that would enjoy it if I flirted with someone else. Hell, I thought I was married to a man that would have enjoyed it if I'd come away from that little flirtation having been asked on a date by the handsome man I met while waiting to order my cappuccino."

Erin was married to that kind of man. I was massively turned on as I listened to her. Mostly at the idea of her going on a date with someone. It's so strange that something so simple could fill my body with a very particular kind of arousal, and yet that's precisely what happened.

"I know my reaction made it seem like I'm not interested in you flirting with guys or going on dates...and maybe in reality I'm not, but the idea is so exciting to me."

She pushed the pad Thai around her plate like she was making some strange kind of art and after a few long seconds Erin looked up at me. "Your reaction made you seem like an insecure teenage boy. It was hugely unattractive."

Her words stung far more than I would have expected. "I'm sorry."

"You should be, but we're past that now. I'm not angry anymore. The spanking actually did a marvelous job of clearing away that anger, as did your adherence to my instructions to do the laundry."

She set her fork down, rested her elbows on the table, and fixed her gaze on my eyes. She was impossibly beautiful and part of me wanted to lean over and kiss her. That would have been a poor choice in that moment, though.

"I believe that the idea of being cuckolded excites you," she began, "but now I also believe that you're not capable of handling it, on an emotional level. I'm not entirely sure I'd be capable of it either, of course. There's something undeniably exciting about having the freedom to flirt with other men, to have a little fun, maybe even to go on dates and have sex with a man if I'm especially attracted to him."

I was hard by that point. The fantasy is intensely arousing for me, and the more she talked the more disappointed I was in myself for my actions that afternoon.

"Is there a way forward on this?" I asked. "Can I...is there some way I can prove that today was an anomaly?"

Erin gave it a great deal of thought, at least judging by the silence that followed as we ate. I opened my mouth to speak a few times but she held up her hand and silenced me without saying a word.

"I'm in no rush," she finally said. "With regards to doing something with other men, that is. It's your fantasy. Not mine. I suspect I'd enjoy getting to have a bit of fun, but the notion of it isn't a turn on for me. Because of that, you'll just have to prove that you can handle the other part of this, the part where I'm in charge of things, where I make the rules. We'll try that for a while. Then, if you can actually handle it, if you can follow the rules and accept any punishments that I deem you worthy of, then I'll consider going on a date with someone."

For the next six weeks, that's precisely what we did. In truth, life wasn't that different than it had been before. The changes were subtle, but most long-lasting changes are actually small and subtle. It's only when enough of those small changes are enacted that it feels like there's been a major shift.

The first change was the laundry. That became my chore. Wholly and completely, in fact, and I was expected to do it without having to be told. I received a single punishment for failing to do the laundry. It happened on a morning where Erin had very few options for work clothes because I'd forgotten to clean them. I haven't screwed up the laundry since, though. It turns out that a simple, painful punishment can be enough to help me learn what's expected of me.

Like most women, Erin loves a foot rub, so she began to request one each night. It wasn't long before she no longer had to request one. I simply gave them. I also gave full body massages with greater frequency. I always tried to give her an orgasm - or multiple orgasms - during the full body rubdowns, but Erin didn't always allow it.

About halfway through the six weeks I found myself seeking out chores that I could tend to. It was small, simple stuff like little house cleaning tasks, taking out the garbage without being told, emptying the dish washer every morning, etc. Over the years we'd come to a largely 50/50 split where domestic tasks were concerned, but I began to take on more of them without being asked.

Erin likes to cook so she still handled most of that, but I started to help with prep stuff like chopping vegetables, etc, which speeds things along. Plus, it was actually quite nice to be with her in the kitchen, to help her in preparing the food that nourishes both of us.

After six weeks I felt noticeably happier. I'd been punished a handful of times - for a variety of infractions - but I swear there's something about being punished that works for me. I think it works for Erin, too. We didn't fight over the course of the six weeks. There was no reason to. When your wife is the one making the rules, you simply do as you're told. There aren't really disagreements. There's something so appealing about that hierarchy. To me, at least.

Erin had said that after six weeks she'd revisit the notion of going on a date. I figured we'd talk about it, that we'd review my performance over the previous month and a half and she would inform me that I'd passed her rather lengthy test.

That's not how it unfolded.

It was a Saturday night. I was playing a video game - yes, I enjoy video games and it has never bothered Erin - and I was enjoying it enough that I'd lost track of time. It wasn't until I checked my phone that I realized it was well after the time we usually have dinner, so I set the controller down and went off in search of Erin.

I found her in our bathroom. She had on a blue dress and a pair of strappy black heels. In her hand was a tube of lipstick that she was carefully applying. I panicked at the notion that I'd completely forgotten that we'd made a dinner reservation that night.

"Oh, shit," I said. "Are we going out?"

Erin finished applying her lipstick, put the top back on the tube, and set it on the bathroom counter. She pursed and popped her lips in the way women sometimes do when putting on lipstick and then turned to me and smiled.

"Don't worry, darling, you haven't forgotten anything. We're not going out. I'm going out."

"With who?"

Again she smiled. "That's none of your business. All you need to know is that your wife is going on a date tonight."

It all fell into place. Six weeks had passed. I'd obviously proved to her that I could handle her being in charge. She'd obviously made a date and it was equally obvious that she had very little interest in sharing anything about it with me.

"So, you're...where did you meet him?"

She stepped closer. Her perfume was intoxicating. She caressed my face and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. "For now, you don't get to know anything. You'll have to sit at home and wonder about all of it. I will tell you, though, that I will not be having sex with him tonight. That's not a first date activity for me."

The fact that she was even thinking about sex felt meaningful in some way, though my mind was racing in a dozen different directions in that moment and I couldn't quite process any thought in a clear manner.

"You are not permitted to text or call tonight," she said. "Unless it's an emergency, and by emergency I mean that you're going to the hospital or the house is burning down. Otherwise, you will let me enjoy my date without any interruptions."

I was excited. I was distraught. I was insecure. I was thoroughly tongue-tied.

Erin kissed me on the cheek and walked towards her dresser. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a small black handbag. She returned to the bathroom and placed a few makeup items in the back, presumably to do touch ups on her date.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back," she said. "I suppose it depends on how the date goes."

I followed her out of the bedroom and towards the front door. A car was waiting in our driveway.

"Is that him?" I asked.

"It's my Uber."

She kissed me on the cheek. "Have a good night, Dan."

Then my wife walked out of the house, got in the Uber, and went on a date with another man.

I was in a daze for most of the night. I paced around the house for a while. I looked at my phone over and over, though I'm not sure what I was expecting. She wasn't going to call or text. I kept looking, though. I played my video game a little more, though I was so angst-riddled that I didn't enjoy myself. I did some cleaning, which was a nice way to distract myself. I tried listening to a podcast, though I didn't pick up a word the hosts were saying.

In truth, it was an unpleasant evening. Deeply unpleasant, in fact. The sense of angst never went away. I just kept picturing Erin on a date with someone else. I pictured how breathtakingly beautiful she looked in her blue dress, her heels, and her lipstick. I pictured how flawless her makeup was, how soft and shiny her hair had looked. About halfway through my evening it dawned on me that she'd put in a ton of effort to look good. I tried to think of the last time she'd made that kind of effort for me. It tended to happen a handful of times a year. My birthday. Our anniversary. That sort of thing. That's how it worked with most longtime married couples, but that knowledge did nothing for the angst. My wife liked her date enough - or cared enough about him being attracted to her - that she'd put in a ton of effort to look good.

Eventually I fell asleep on the couch. A night of overwhelming angst is enough to exhaust a man, as it turns out. I didn't wake up until I heard Erin's keys in the lock. I hopped off the couch and rushed towards the foyer. 

I had a million questions, and yet I wasn't sure what to say, so I just stared at first.

"How...how did your date go?" I asked. It might have been the strangest thing I'd ever asked my wife and it was followed by a huge wave of angst.

Erin answered by giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smelled her perfume, but there was something else, too. A distinctly masculine scent. Cologne, maybe. Aftershave, maybe. The scent of a man, though.

The angst kicked into overdrive. There was insecurity. There was arousal, too. It felt like my brain had been scrambled by something as simple as a man's scent.

"It was exceptional," she replied softly. "I'd forgotten how much fun a good first date could be."

"Where did he take you?"

Erin walked past me and I followed her to the bedroom. She set her handbag on the dresser and turned away from me. "Would you unzip me?"

I happily did so and pushed the straps of the blue dress from her shoulders. She pulled it off and I took note of the sexy black lace bra and thong she had on. It wasn't often that Erin wore her expensive underwear. She liked to save them for special occasions. I couldn't help but wonder if her date had seen her underwear, if she'd been lying about not having sex.

I picked her dress up from the floor. "Do you want me to hang it in the closet?"

"That would be nice."

I did so and returned to find Erin in our bed. She'd pulled back the comforter and sheets and was smiling at me.

"Why don't you take your clothes off and join me?" she suggested.

I got naked while battling my angst. It made it hard to think clearly. Erin watched with a smile on her face and every so often she'd caress her breasts or her stomach. Her fingers passed under the lace-trimmed waistband of her panties once and I thought she might play with herself, but she held off.

I crawled into our bed and Erin guided me to my back. She rolled onto her side and inched closer until I could feel the warmth of body against mine and the delicate lace of her bra against my arm and chest.

"He took me out to dinner," she said. "It was a beautiful restaurant. It reminded me of that place at the Wynn in Vegas we ate at."

I recalled vague memory of an insanely expensive dinner at a flawlessly-designed, romantic restaurant. Angst flooded my body as Erin rested a hand on my upper stomach before running her fingers through my relatively sparse chest hair.

"We had a five course meal. The kind where each of the courses is actually pretty tiny but every bite of food is the most exquisite thing you've ever tasted."

Those meals are generally hundreds of dollars. The guy was clearly trying to impress Erin and it seemed to have worked.

"We went for a walk afterwards. We held hands. It was all exceptionally romantic."

She leaned in and kissed my neck. My heart was pounding as hard as it had ever pounded. Her hand moved down my stomach and between my legs. She stroked my cock and had me hard in no time.

"He kissed me on the walk," she whispered. "We stopped under a tree with twinkle lights wrapped around its trunk and the low branches. He told me how beautiful I was and how much he'd enjoyed our date. He caressed my face and I have to admit that I was desperate for him to kiss me, Dan. I didn't hesitate to kiss him back. I didn't resist when he put a hand on my lower back and pulled me close. As first kisses go, it was incredible. Electric, even."

I turned my head. I wanted to kiss my wife. I needed to.

"You're very hard," she said.

"I know. I want to kiss you."

She released my cock and caressed my face. She leaned in. We kissed. I thought of her kissing another man. I thought of her body against his. I thought of his tongue in her mouth, though she hadn't mentioned that. I felt her tongue in my mouth, though, and I felt my dick get harder as it happened.

"Did he use tongue?" I asked.

"He did. It was very sexy. The kiss, I mean. It...well, it made me want to see him again."

"You're going on another date?"

She nodded. "Next Saturday."

My pulse raced. It's what I wanted, of course, but I was also utterly flooded with angst.

"Based on how good our first date was, I expect that it won't be long before I have sex with him."

I couldn't speak. I was feeling too many things. My mind was clouded.

Erin straddled me. She pulled her panties aside and took me into her pussy. She was soaked. Wetter than usual. She rested her hands on my chest and began to grind her hips back and forth.

"Are you...are you wet because of him? Because of the kiss?"

"Partly," she answered. "I'm also wet because I just kissed you. I'm a little wet because I can tell that you're excited about this. I can tell you're struggling, too, but you didn't freak out. You controlled yourself. All of it has me wet, Dan, though I have to admit that I can't stop thinking about that kiss, about the way he touched me as we kissed, about how badly I wanted him to touch me even more, how my body yearned for his hands to roam wherever they wished."

I reached up and took hold of her breasts in the lace bra. "Did you want him to touch you like this?"

She nodded and then rolled her head back and began to ride me a little faster. I played with her breasts and she put her hands over mine and moaned. I couldn't help but think of someone else touching her in that way, of her riding someone else's cock while he played with her tits, of my wife cuckolding me.

"Erin...I'm close," I said.

She looked down and smiled. "You can cum whenever you want."

I came inside her almost immediately. I came really, really hard, too. It was a head-to-toe kind of orgasm and it put a big, dumb smile on my face.

My hands fell to my sides and Erin took one and guided it between her legs. "Rub my clit," she said.

I did as my wife requested. I rubbed her clit with my cock buried inside her. She closed her eyes and played with her tits and it wasn't long after that she too had an orgasm, which made me smile.

Erin climbed off of my dick and laid next to me.

"Were you thinking about him when you came?" I asked.

"Yes, I was," she replied.

More angst. A huge wave of angst. Without the arousal it felt so much worse. I felt like I was going to explode. I stayed still, though. I kept quiet. I resolved not to blow it. I did want to be cuckolded, after all, and if I could control myself then it seemed like it was going to happen.

"Will you hand me your underwear?" she said. "I don't want your cum to soak into my panties."

I grabbed my underwear from the floor and gave them to Erin. She took off her expensive panties and pressed my bunched up boxers between her legs. Then she extended her arms and I crawled closer. We laid on our sides facing each other and kissed softly.

"I know how hard this was for you," she said. "I want you to know that I'm really proud that you didn't lose your shit tonight. I do have another date scheduled and I wasn't lying that I will likely have sex with him soon. Not next weekend, but soon."

So much angst coursed through me.

"I want you to know, though, that we can talk about this. We can talk every day. I know you want this, but it's also possible that it will be too much to handle, and I don't want to ruin our marriage, okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you, Erin."

She kissed me softly. "Also, I expect that you'll continue to be well-behaved, that you'll continue to do as you're told, that you will not behave like a brat just because you're struggling with your wife having gone on a date with another man. I will not hesitate to punish you harshly if you get bratty."

"I understand." We kissed again. "I love you, Erin. I do. I love you desperately. Thank you so much for all of this, for all these changes you've been willing to make."

"I'm happier, Dan," she said. "It's an unusual way to structure a marriage, but it seems possible that it's actually the right way for us, because I'm happier being in charge. I'm happier not having to fight. I'm happier being able to resolve any conflict with a quick punishment that clears away all frustration and anger."

"Me too."

"I'm also pretty sure that I'm going to be even happier when I start having sex with another man, because if the kiss was any indication, the sex is going to be really, really good."

So much angst. It was overwhelming. I know it's going to continue to be overwhelming, too. There's no avoiding it. It's just the cost of being in a relationship like the one I've always thought I wanted. Now I get to find out if I really want it.