Chapter 3: I Was Gonna Be Her Man

When Rhonda got into the car that evening, her makeup was smeared and her hair was a mess. She smiled groggily at me as I pulled up outside her building.

“Get in,” I said. I wondered if I should feel bad about what she’d been through, but I had to admit - she looked happy. No, happy wasn’t quite the right word for it ... Satisfied. She looked satisfied. As she got in the passenger seat, I recoiled. The moment the door closed, my entire car - just like Rhonda - reeked of cum.

It wasn’t unpleasant, although I was hardly about to race out and buy a cum-scented deodorizer. I turned on the music and started the car, pondering on how I felt about it. It wasn’t as though I liked the smell, it just felt ... right.

Rhonda was doing exactly what she was born to do. My plan was working - I was giving her a purpose in life, a purpose that I wish every woman could have. For the first time in her life, she was going into work each day and really earning her keep.

She was silent on the way home, just sitting back and taking in the music. It was clearly working - she spent the first half of the trip with her hand on my leg, and when we got on the freeway, she unzipped my pants and started idly running her hand up and down my erection.

As I pulled into her driveway, it was clear that I was about to cum, and so Rhonda leaned over and swallowed my cock, taking me in her mouth and allowing me to pump my seed deep into her throat.

“Thank you,” she said demurely, and when I gave a curt nod in response, shivered with pleasure, taking her hand out from between her legs and licking it clean.

As she gave my cock one last, hungry look and walked away, I couldn’t help but wonder if what I was doing was wrong. Not the tapes - those were for her own benefit. But letting her suck me off - was that cheating on my wife?

No, I quickly decided. After all, it wasn’t as though it was for nothing - I was giving her a lift home each day. I deserved something for my efforts. And if my wife did somehow find out and complain about it, I’d just tell her it was what I wanted, and she’d soon agree.

As she should.

With a satisfied nod, I tucked myself away, zipped up, and drove home.

As I walked into my house, the main hook of the fourth tape still stuck in my head (even without Rhonda with me, I’d been unable to resist listening to the end) I was delighted to find that my wife had gone shopping once more.

She’d apparently interpreted the order to be subservient in a slightly different way, because she was standing in front of me wearing a French Maid dress which left her shoulders completely exposed, emphasized her curves, and ended mid-thigh, a few inches above her black stockings.

When I opened the door, she was kneeling in front of it, and I wondered how long she’d been there, waiting patiently for me to come home.

If this is what she’s like now, I mused, I wonder how she’ll act when she thinks I’m her Master. I quickly pushed that thought out of my head - I could never do something like that to my wife. No, the first three tapes, it made sense to share those with my family. They weren’t really about altering someone, but about revealing what they always were, what they should have been all along.

Using the last one on my darling, loving wife? That would just be wrong.

“Girls!” I called out, “Go to your rooms!”

My wife was so hot, so blatant in her desires ... it would have made sense to find somewhere private to fuck her, but I didn’t want to. This was my house, and if I wanted to fuck my wife in the hallway then damn it, I was going to fuck my wife in the hallway.

“They’re out,” she whispered in reply, a smile on her face. “They’re both on dates.”

I hope the men pay, I mentally noted. My girls are worth it. Before I could follow that train of thought any further, I realized I was letting myself get distracted when a perfect walking fucktoy was kneeling in front of me, non-verbally begging me to fuck her mouth and coat her with my cum.

Despite Rhonda’s thanks earlier, I was hard and ready to go again. I may not be a teen any more, but when someone as gorgeous as my wife is around, I’m definitely able to provide what she’s so desperately craving.

Let me tell you, I’d thought our romp the previous day was good, but this was incredible. The more I ordered her around, the more I told her what to do, what to say, what to think, the more turned on she seemed to get. It was over an hour before I collapsed against the wall, almost too exhausted to order her to clean up the mess we’d made.

As I sat there, watching her licking my cum off the hallway floor, I got to thinking. My wife sits around the house all day with nothing to do - I’m the primary breadwinner, and when we’d had kids it had been a no-brainer to let her quit her job and take care of them.

But our kids were all grown up now (their clothing choices of the last few days had shown me how grown up they were) and watching my wife leaning over and exposing her pert ass, her shaved pussy-lips, watching her breasts threatening to bulge out of her top...

“Honey,” I said casually, “I love your outfit.”

“Thanks,” she said with a blush, quickly followed by that grin I’d fallen for so many years ago. “I thought you might.”

“It’s a shame that I’m the only one who gets to see it.”

Clearly unsure of what I was getting at, she stayed silent, and so I pressed on.

“You know, if you wanted some extra money, I’m sure that a lot of people would pay to have someone as foxy as you cleaning up their place.”