Inside the Mind of a Dominant Hotwife - Part 2

Click here to read the first part of the story.

---

"You can ask, you know."

Walt and I were out for dinner. It was a lovely restaurant. We were seated on the back patio with strings of twinkling lights above us. It was really quite romantic, though I was almost certain that Walt's mind wasn't focused on the romance of the evening. In fact, he'd seemed distracted for most of the evening.

"Ask...ask what?" he replied plunging his fork into a piece of the perfectly roasted potato resting on his plate.

I set my fork down, picked up my wine glass, and took a sip while maintaining eye contact with my husband. A week had passed since I'd first dominated him in a manner that aroused me. A week had also passed since I'd informed my husband that I planned on flirting with a particular coworker of mine who'd always shown a desire for me. Walt had asked me not to do so and I'd politely declined, a notion that had filled him with a rather obvious sense of angst.

"Aren't you curious if I followed through on my promise to respond to the flirty desires of my coworker?" I asked while gently swirling the wine in my glass.

I saw Walt's eyes go wide for just a moment. I witnessed a brief glimpse of the same pain he'd displayed during that night of domination as I told him how much I enjoyed flirting with and being touched by another man at the party.

"Does your silence mean you haven't thought about it this week?" I asked. "That the idea of your wife flirting with her tall, handsome coworker hasn't invaded your mind even once?"

Walt looked around as if he was nervous about someone hearing our conversation.

"Did...did you?" he asked softly while looking down at his plate.

I leaned forward, smiled, and said, "I'd like you to look at me when you ask a question, Walt."

It took a few moments, but he managed to drag his gaze upwards to meet mine, took a deep breath, and asked, "Did you flirt with your coworker this week?"

His voice was barely above a whisper as the words slowly poured from his lips. I swear, half a dozen emotions washed over his face as he uttered a single sentence. I couldn't even place them all, though I'll admit that I experienced a surprising sense of power at my ability to put my husband in such a heightened state by implanting the mere thought of his wife flirting with another man.

I could have answered Walt directly, but it struck me as far more interesting to take a more roundabout approach. "Did you happen to notice a slight shift in the way I dressed for work this week?" I asked with a slight smile.

Walt nodded.

"My blouses were just a little bit tighter, weren't they?" I asked. "My skirts were just a little bit shorter and a little bit tighter, weren't they?"

He nodded.

"My heels were higher, weren't they?"

"Yes," he said.

"And did you notice that I wore my hair differently, that it looked just a little sexier?" I asked.

Walt nodded.

"And that I put in a little more effort with my makeup?"

His breathing had gotten heavier. His lips parted as if he couldn't get in enough air through his nose. His eyes darted from my face to my cleavage and I couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking of the top I'd worn on Wednesday, which offered up just a hint of cleavage to all my coworkers. It was far from scandalous - plenty of women at work dress in a far more suggestive manner - but it wasn't the kind of thing I'd ever worn to the office.

"Did you...did you do that for...for him?" Walt asked.

I nodded and Walt grabbed his wine and took a rather large sip. His hand shook a little as he did so. He swallowed hard and set the glass on the table. He picked up his knife and fork and held them in his hands without moving towards his food, as if grasping something helped ameliorate the unpleasant feelings coursing through him in that moment.

"It wasn't just for him," I said. "It was for me, too."

"For you?"

I nodded and sipped my wine as I began to feel just a hint of a buzz. Even better, I felt a touch of arousal that I thoroughly enjoyed and took a sign that I had, in fact, discovered the kind of domination that thrilled me. It still wasn't entirely clear if Walt was anywhere near as thrilled as I was, but I was having such fun that I couldn't help but continue down the path I'd discovered at the party the week before.

"As it turns out," I said, "I like being desired, Walt. Or, more specifically, I like being desired by men I'm not married to, especially when those men are exceptionally good-looking and successful."

Walt drank the rest of his wine and set the glass on the table. I studied his face and felt completely and utterly fascinated by the array of emotions that washed over it. More than anything, though, I was enamored with my ability to create those emotions in my husband, to utter a few simple words and make him feel a particular way. It was an incredible rush of power, and I quite liked that sense of power.

"He's...the guy at work, is he your boss?" Walt asked. "I mean, is that what makes him more successful?"

I shook my head. "No. It would be exceedingly foolish to flirt with my boss. He works in an entirely different department, though he is more senior than I am. I'm fairly certain he makes a great deal more money than I do." I took a sip of wine, held it in my mouth for a moment, and then swallowed before adding, "And of course he makes a great deal more money than you do."

Insecurity washed over Walt's face. I knew it would, though. I wanted him to feel insecure. I wanted to feel a sense of power at being able to make him feel insecure, and I absolutely got to feel that. I felt my pussy tingle from that sense of power, too. It's quite a feeling, one that a woman could easily get addicted to.

"He noticed that made an effort to look a little sexier this week," I said. "He's always taken notice of me, but this week there was something more to it. A little bit of...hunger, I suppose you could say. Hunger for me. Lust, even."

The waitress appeared and asked if she could refill Walt's glass. He looked up at her and nodded. She poured with the skill of someone who'd done it thousands of times before and then walked away without saying a word. Walt picked up the glass, lifted it to his lips, and hesitated before taking a sip. He set the glass back down, released it from his grasp, and put his arms on the table before leaning in.

"I think he wants to fuck me," I said.

Walt's eyes went wide. He reached out and pushed the wine glass forward before pulling it back. He picked up his fork and stabbed at his food, though he didn't bring it to his mouth. He was anxious. He was dispersing the anxious energy he felt as I toyed with him from the other side of our table under the lights.

"He's always flirted, but this week was the first time he touched me," I added with a smile. "Nothing inappropriate, of course. Just a quick and on my lower back, or a gentle brush of his fingers against my forearm, or a very brief resting of his hand on my shoulder as he leans in to whisper something into my ear."

Walt shifted in his seat and took another big sip from his wine glass. "What...what did he whisper?" he asked.

Emotions still played out across his face, but I saw that same hint of lust I'd seen the week before when I'd had him on his knees in front of me while detailing how much I'd enjoyed another man flirting with me and touching me at the party. It seemed like Walt was pained by his desire, like feeling that desire was somehow a great shortcoming on his part.

"He told me that I was exquisitely beautiful and that my husband was a very lucky man," I answered. For a moment I was back at the office. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my neck as he whispered those words. I could feel his hand against my shoulder and the gentle manner in which he ran his fingers down my arm. There was no question he being more than flirty in that moment, but I wanted it. That was on Thursday and by that point I was experiencing a bit of a craving for his touch, if I'm being honest.

"I am a lucky man," Walt said.

I smiled. "Do you remember the sex we had on Thursday? Do you remember how I dragged you into the bedroom as soon as I got home?"

He nodded.

"He whispered those words to me - and touched me so delicately - on Thursday. Just before I left for work, in fact." I took a bite of my food and chewed it slowly while Walt stared at me. I like to imagine he was thinking about the sex we'd had and wondering just how much of my lust was inspired by the coworker I'd been flirting with all week.

"Do you remember how wet my pussy was, Walt?" I asked.

Again he looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear. We were safe, though. "Yes, I remember," he answered.

I took another bite of my food. I was content to let Walt simmer in the notion that my pussy was wet because I was thinking about another man, because I desired another man, because another man desired me.

"You were...you seemed really turned on," he said. "And really, really wet."

Walt was turned on. In that moment. Right there at the restaurant. He was aroused. I could see it on his face. I could see it in his eyes. I could tell from the way his breathing had changed. He was thinking about his wife's potential desire for another man and he was turned on.

I was turned on too, though for slightly different reasons. I was getting off on the very specific manner in which I was dominating Walt in that moment. It wasn't the traditional sort of domme/sub play. He wasn't under the table kissing my feet. He was absolutely being dominated, though, even if I hadn't fully embraced the power I possessed and didn't even fully understand just how thoroughly I was domming him.

"Why do you think I was so wet?" I asked. "Why do you think my pussy was utterly soaked, Walt?"

He parted his lips, but nothing came out. Not for a few seconds, at least, and in that time I watched my husband battle his feelings. I saw desire in his eyes. I saw angst. I saw a bit of pain.

"Because he'd...because another man wanted you...wants you?" he replied. "Because he touched you...because it felt good when he touched you?"

He was right. That was, in fact, why I was so wet that night. Another man - a very desirable man - desired me and he made that perfectly clear. There was no question he would have fucked me if I'd told him I wanted him. He would taken me to his car, or back to his place, or to a high end hotel - wherever I wanted, really - and fucked me. And, if I'm being honest, I considered it for a moment. Well, more than a moment. More than a few moments, I suppose, as that consideration was at least partly responsible for the intense desire I felt when I got home.

Don't hate me for thinking about it. After all, I did go home to my husband. I did ride his cock. I did cum on his cock. I made him cum, too. I made him cum hard and I thoroughly enjoyed doing so. After all, that's part of being a good wife, and believe or not, but exploring my dominant side is also part of being a good wife for Walt, as he craves feeling submissive.

"Another man made my pussy wet, Walt," I said.

As I watched his face, I slipped my foot out of my heel and moved it between his legs. He jumped in his chair and grabbed the edge of the table as his eyes went wide and his head whipped around. His wild movements drew a few stares from behind him, but no one noticed that I was teasing my husband's cock under the table.

Walt wasn't hard when my foot first made contact, but he got there quickly. He was right on the edge of the kind of arousal that gets you stiff and I brought him all the way there. Some of the angst disappeared from his face to make room for the wealth of desire that flooded his body as blood flooded his shaft.

"I thought of him while you were inside me," I continued, eliciting a groan from my husband. "I thought of the way he touched me, of the way he flirts with me, of the way he looks at me, of the way he desires my body."

I was just as turned on as Walt, if not more so. His dick was hard and my pussy was soaked, just as it had been on Thursday night. I was thinking of another man, but in that moment I was thinking more of my husband, of the man I was slowly learning to dominate.

I pulled my foot away from his crotch and slipped it back into my heel. I smiled as Walt let out a deep breath, leaned back, and met my smile with one of his own.

"Do you want me, Walt?" I asked before sipping my wine.

He nodded, picked up his glass, and leaned over to gently clink it against mine, as if we were toasting to what felt like a new era in our marriage. "Yes, I want you," he answered.

I was tempted to drag him to the bathroom for a quickie to dissipate our mutual desire. I was tempted to skip dessert, rush to the car, and fuck him in the parking lot. I was also tempted to deny him like I'd done the week before, to masturbate for my pleasure while making Walt watch, or to let him eat my pussy while I talked to him about my desire for my coworker.

Every option danced through my mind and they all seemed so delicious. What I enjoyed most of all, though, was that each option was available to me. I was in total control. I could do exactly as I desired and Walt would go along with it. He might feel that angst, agony, and pain, but he'd go along with it because he was driven to please me, to submit to me, to bask in the pleasures of feeling submissive. In the moment it felt like a revelation, if I'm being honest, because it was the first time I'd truly embraced that I was, in fact, fully in control.

"The guy at work...do you like...is it, I don't know, attractive that he's successful?" Walt asked.

This time it was pure insecurity on his face. I understood, of course. Men are measured by their financial success in a way women really aren't, and I'd been flirting with a more successful man. Of course Walt felt insecure, and probably in that deep-seated way where some part of him was genuinely worried he'd lose me to the man that possessed more of what society valued most. Of course, Walt had nothing to worry about. I wasn't inclined to assuage his fears, though, as it struck me as a great deal more fun to toy with him.

"Yes, of course it is," I replied. "It's not necessarily fair, but a man is undeniably more attractive if he's more successful." I swirled the wine in my glass as I considered why that was the case. "Maybe it's because it makes him more confident. Maybe it's because some part of my subconscious can't help but think about the beautiful things he could buy me if we were in a relationship."

Walt gripped the edge of the table and I was tempted to lift my foot between his crotch once more to check and see if he'd maintained his erection. My foot remained in my heel and on the ground, though, mostly because I was almost certain Walt felt arousal alongside the insecurity I saw on his face.

"A woman likes that, you know," I continued. "When a man buys her beautiful things. When he buys her delicate lingerie so she can look and feel sexy for him. When he buys her beautiful dresses so everyone in the room looks at her when she walks in. When he buys her beautiful jewelry so she sparkles like the queen she is."

"I could do that," Walt said.

I ran my foot up his leg, stopping short of his knees, more as a way to tease him than anything. "I know, and sometimes you do buy me pretty things and I absolutely adore it. A man like him, though, could buy me prettier things, Walt. He could take me to the fanciest hotels. He could dress me in the most expensive lingerie. He could use his strength to pick me up and toss me in the bed and he could fuck me hard in that expensive hotel bed, using what I'm sure is a big cock to make me cum like I've never cum before."

I'd given myself over to the fantasy at that point and I got a little lost in it. It was the first time I'd gone so far as to get specific with regards to how I might fuck my coworker and I'm more than happy to admit that I found it delightful as the words left my mouth. It was almost an out-of-body experience, like I was floating above myself and listening as this fantasy came out.

"Please," Walt said.

I leaned forward and he glanced at my cleavage, which my dress did a wonderful job of showing off. "Do you not like thinking about another man fucking your wife, Walt?"

He shook his head.

"Does it bother you that I thought about it?"

"Yes," he said, though his voice was soft.

I slipped my foot from the shoe and lifted it between his legs. I smiled as I found his erection and I worked it far harder than before, offering him genuine pleasure, at least based on the look on his face.

"Please, stop," he begged.

"If you don't like thinking about another man fucking your wife, why are you hard?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said with genuine agony on his face.

"I think you do like it, Walt," I replied, though I actually believed him. Ultimately I think what he liked was the game we were playing. The game where I was in control, where I was free to dominate and do as I pleased, where I made Walt feel submissive. "I think you want me to fuck my coworker. I think you want me to let him know that I'm available, that he can have me if he's willing to put in the work, and to be generous of course, as I want to feel cherished if I'm going to give myself to another man."

"Please, Emmy, don't," he pleaded.

I pulled my foot from between his legs, smiled, and said, "Let's get the check."

We finished our food, drank the rest of our wine, and Walt paid the bill. We walked arm-in-arm out of the restaurant and I offered a handful of soft kisses on his cheek and neck, letting my lips linger for a few moments each time in hopes of keeping him in an aroused state.

The valet pulled the car up and Walt tipped him before opening the door for me. I made sure that my dress rode up my thigh as I got in and smiled as Walt's eyes went just a bit wide with delight. He got behind the wheel and the moment we pulled way I yanked my dress up the rest of the way, moved my panties aside, and took his hand from the wheel. I placed it between my legs and lifted my hips and Walt slipped two fingers into my pussy.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered. "I'm so wet, Walt."

"Because you're thinking about fucking another man?"

I smiled, closed my eyes, and moaned as Walt gently worked my clit. "Yes, but that's not the only reason, Walt. I'm wet because I like being in control. Because I like dominating you. Because I like teasing you. Because I like making you feel all those things you felt at dinner."

I looked over and saw - on half of Walt's face, at least - the same mixture of pain and pleasure I'd seen so many times that night. It made me wetter, if I'm being honest, just as it's made me wet so many times since then. As it turns out, one of the things I enjoy most about dominating my husband is the fact that it's a push and pull for him. He's aroused and agonized. He's thrilled and scared. He's nervous and excited. It's not the fantasy version of domination. It's the real thing, where at times it can be deeply uncomfortable, and at times where the point is for the submissive to do something he wouldn't normally choose to do, to do something he doesn't necessarily enjoy, and to do it for the pleasure of his domme.

"Thank you," Walt said. "For dominating me, I mean."

I grabbed his wrist, pulled his fingers from my pussy, and took them in my mouth. I tasted my juices on his flesh as I sucked them clean and I watched as his eyes went wide for a moment before he moaned.

"Men like my coworker, successful men like him, they expect the women they're with to suck their cocks," I said, talking in a far dirtier manner than I usually did.

Walt groaned and I took note of the bulge in his pants.

"I suppose you could say that men like him are deserving of having their cocks sucked," I continued, eliciting yet another groan from my husband. "After all, when a man is generous with the woman he's fucking it's a perfectly normal response to be generous in return, and I think we both know that men appreciate sexual generosity in a way that women don't."

Walt nodded and I took his fingers in my mouth once more. I can't say for sure, but I feel certain that he was thinking about me sucking my coworker's cock. After all, I'd just implanted the idea in his head, so how could he have been thinking of anything else?

"I'd be generous with him if he was generous with me, Walt," I said. "If he bought me pretty lingerie and took me to a beautiful hotel. I'd get on my knees for him. I'd take him in my mouth. I'd look up at him as I sucked his cock, as I made him feel good, as I showed him that I can be just as generous as he is."

"Fuck...Emmy...please..." he said, in what was becoming a common occurrence. I took it to mean that he was torn, that he existed in a state of agony and intense desire, that he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted in that moment, so he simply uttered the world 'please' and hoped that I would choose for him.

I put his hand between my legs and he pushed three fingers into my pussy and used a fourth to rub my clit.

"Can I make you cum?" he asked. "Please?"

"You can," I replied with a moan. "I can also make you cum, but you can only have one. The choice is yours, though. You can make me cum or I can make you cum."

"Can I watch you masturbate if you make me cum?"

"No," I said with a smile. "You only get one tonight."

"Can I make you cum more than once?"

That was a lovely and unexpected response. "Yes, you can. You can make me cum as many times as you want, in fact."

He rubbed my clit faster. "Then that's what I want."

He made the right decision, and I got to spend the rest of the night in the throes of pleasure. As it turns out, there are great advantages to dominating your husband.