She begins to stand, and she speaks, her voice soft and demure. "You brought Naomi into our house. If she cooks for you, that's still you providing the cooking... right? Please forgive me if that's a stupid idea."

Immediately, Naomi steps forward. Her head is still bowed, but she speaks passionately. "Oh yes sir! I am an excellent cook, and I'd love to prepare meals for you. I can cook and clean... It's the least I can do! You're such a good master!"

Beside her, my wife nods emphatically.

I sigh. "Look, don't call me 'master' but, fine... shit..." My mind and body are entirely drained from work. I really don't feel like cooking; I just can't let Rachel do it... because of the list. "It's fine if you want to make food tonight, Naomi. But remember, you are a guest. Don't do anything you don't want to. I'm going to get a shower before supper."

The two women nod, and I walk down the hall to the bathroom. I close the door, and turn the shower on. Quickly stripping out of my work clothes, I toss them into the hamper. As I step into the steaming hot bath, the soothing water washes over me. It helps me clear my head.

My brain seems bombarded with countless contradictory thoughts. I suppose part of me always wanted more control in my marriage. What man... what human... doesn't want more control in life? But getting it like this...? It's all wrong! Sure, I want my wife to pamper me a little... what guy doesn't? But I want her to do it for the right reasons.

Still, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that some slimy part of my mind loved having two doting women kneeling in front of me... longing to service me and treat me with the utmost reverence.

Can I truly enjoy this type of manufactured respect? It's like a pair of fake tits... Even when you know that they're fake, some primitive part of your brain tells you, 'It would feel so good to squeeze your fingers deep into those puppies and...'

The curtain moves, and I pull away in surprise. Rachel is standing just outside the shower, with her clothes at her feet. Her head is bowed in reverence, and her arms are held behind her back. This presses her large breasts forward, and I can feel my own excitement rising automatically.

We have been married for a long time, and normally the sight of her naked figure, which I've seen countless times, would not elicit such a strong reaction. But I have never, ever seen her look so... meek, so submissive. Every tiny movement of her body conveys a particular message. 'I am yours,' it seems to exclaim. 'My body is yours. I am your possession. State your desires, and I will obey them. It is your right, as my husband, my lord, my sire.'

"May I join you in the shower... dear?" She asks, quietly. There is an obvious longing in her voice, but I know she would accept any answer without question. Still, I see no reason to reject this request.

"Of course, baby," I respond, and she steps inside. Without prompting, she reaches for my soap and begins to lather, rubbing her delicate hands across my bare skin. Her smooth movements feel like an act of supplication, and I feel my body shiver. It's been so long since I have felt this type of eager attention.

As she works her hands downward, she kneels, with her head still lowered in reverence. I can feel a sinister part of my mind whispering that she belongs on her knees. It's what she's always deserved.

It is her place, down at my feet. Why did I ever allow her to join me at my side? I am stronger than she is. I earn over twice as much money as she does. I have always been able to physically dominate her, if I so chose. Why have I allowed her so much power in our relationship? Why haven't I taken control of her from the start?

I blink suddenly, shaking myself out of these misogynistic thoughts. When did I suddenly become so domineering? The soft doting touch of her fingers isn't helping. It's making me view her as a servant. Obviously, I should ask her to stop. In a moment. In just a few moments, I'll make her quit.

The water is pouring from the showerhead directly onto her hair now. It is flowing across her face, ruining her makeup. Her mascara is smeared down the sides of her cheeks, making her look so weak, so vulnerable, so defeated. A sick portion of my mind finds this incredibly arousing.

She begins to wash my thighs, and her face is even with my manhood. She presses her left cheek against my stiffening shaft, and she looks up at me, with her smeared makeup.

I can tell that she is seeking permission. I have no idea what is running through her reprogrammed mind, but I know she wants to please me, to serve me, to worship me. She's dying for it. But she can't do it... not without my approval.

Her lips part ever so slightly. She wants to suck my cock. It's obvious. Never before in my life have I received such a clear, nonverbal signal. Something within Rachel needs this.

A twinge of frustration sets in. It isn't fair. I want her mouth to envelope me, and she wants the same thing.... But I refuse to give in. She made the fucking list. She filled it with all the selfish items she wanted. I won't go against it now. This is her punishment for thinking of herself first.

It was the first damn item on the list! So petty! So pointless! She made her fucking bed, and she can sleep in it. I will be strong. Even though it seemingly benefits no one. I will keep my word.

I suppose I can exploit a loophole though. As Rachel rubs the side of her face across my cockhead, like a hungry cat, I say the obvious words that will provide some relief to us both.

"Kissing is not the same as a blow-job."

Immediately, she goes to work, showering my manhood with delicate, tender kisses. She smooches across the entire length again and again, paying particular attention to the tip of my glands.

The soft touch of her lips is maddening, and my cockhead twitches angrily. This isn't what it wants. It wants to slide between her lips... and down her throat. It deserves it. SHE deserves it.

Through her lips, I can sense the pleasure that must be coursing through her body. I'm no fool. I know exactly what is happening. Rachel always considered kissing my cock degrading... she acted like it was some sort of demeaning performance that implied a deep level of submission she would never stoop to.

Now, however, the roles have entirely reversed. Now she longs to be debased, and she's craving the pleasure that the payload is giving her. I can hear her moaning softly, stupidly. She has given in entirely. This simple gesture, which she could have always done voluntarily... it's giving her unbelievable gratification.

I thought that I could enjoy this, but it's too close to what I actually want. It's more of a frustration than anything else. It feels like the ultimate tease. Hell, she's enjoying this even more than I am!

"Stand the fuck up, Rachel!" I bark, and she immediately obeys. "I bet you were enjoying the shit out of that, weren't you?"

Sheepishly, she nods, with her head hung low in shame.

"Yeah well, it was your decision to ban blowjobs, but now you're getting all the cerebral pleasure from the payload, with none of the downsides. That's not fucking fair. Turn around and bend over."

She acts without question, whirling around and presenting her cunt to me eagerly. It's currently drooling liquid, pleading to be used.

I reach down and rub two fingers across her slit. She is incredibly slick right now; like the slut she is. I am surprised to feel her entire frame shiver at my touch. She's never been this sensitive before.

A tiny portion of my mind is repulsed by the knowledge of what made her this way... but the rest of me doesn't care. Of course, her desires are manufactured and unnatural... but they are undeniably alluring.

I can feel animalistic desires seeping in, attempting to overwhelm my higher intelligence. I don't even fight them. I've suffered too, damnit. I align my cock with her warm opening, and ram myself inside. I feel the velvety lining of her body caress my entire length, and a rapacious, triumphant smile slips across my lips.

She is mine to own. Her cunt was designed to satisfy me. I begin unceremoniously pounding inside her, relishing the warmth and tightness of her pussy, as it performs its natural duty.

It has really only ever had one purpose: to pleasure a man, in order to receive his seed. It was designed to feel so good, so amazing... that no man could possibly resist the urge to cum inside... and Rachel's cunt is performing this task impeccably.

All these years, my love for her has been tested... by her smart mouth, by her choice to question my decisions, by her female stubbornness... I've had to put up with plenty. She's been an imperfect wife.

But she is perfect at this. Her feminine body is a glorious tool of sexual gratification. I don't need her mind, or her thoughts, or her opinions. I just need her body, specifically her cunt. In this moment, her humanity is reduced.

I know that she wants this. Her payload-soaked brain is craving this desperately, but deep down, I don't really care. Right now, I'd keep going, even if she begged me to stop. For months I've been striving to maintain her humanity for her, but she's begged me to take it... and I have. I'll take everything she has to offer. I will possess this woman, in every sense of the word.

I dig my fingers into her hips, gaining purchase as I thrust. My hand viciously slaps her ass, and she yelps sensuously. All this power is rushing to my head at once, and I've never felt so invigorated.

Rachel is mewling and moaning like an unabashed whore. I open my mouth to tell her to quiet down, but then I stop myself. I don't care how much noise she makes. This is my wife, and there is no shame in me fucking her.

Naomi might be able to hear us through the door, but I can't convince myself to care. It was her decision to be collared. She can deal with the repercussions.

With a powerful thrust, my hips drive Rachel's entire body forward. Her face presses into the shower wall, and her hands knock the shampoos down from their ledge. I ignore her flailing, as I continue using her body. I'm shamelessly reveling in the pleasure that she's giving me. The pleasure that I'm taking from her.

I sense possessive, rapacious thoughts rising within me, suppressing all of my love and empathy.

"You filled that list with shit to keep me from using you sexually, Rachel! But I'm your husband. Legally, I own you now. I'll use you no matter what! You're a fuck-sleeve for me!"

"Take me, Thomas!" She begs, pathetically. "I'm worthless! I'm so sorry I wrote all of that selfish shit! Please take me! Own me! Domesticate me! Oh...!" I feel a climax shake her body, which makes me feel incredibly masculine; she's never cum this fast before.

I slam forward violently again and again, forcing her body against the wall in a way that can't possibly be comfortable. Rachel screams with euphoric pleasure just the same, and a funny thought touches my mind.

This might be the first time I've truly fucked my wife. Obviously, I've made love to her countless times... but it's always been a shared experience. I always thought as much about her pleasure as mine.

But this time, I'm only focusing on my own cock's gratification. It's absolutely amazing. It's so gratifying to be completely selfish. Why did I ever do anything else?

After a few short minutes, the urge to climax hits me. I don't hesitate for a moment... instead, I immediately empty my entire load inside her. The pleasure is unusually intense, and I can feel my thick cum filling her up and coating her cervix. I release a loud, possessive groan of pleasure, like a wild animal claiming its mate.

In our old lives, such relatively brief intercourse would have been deeply dissatisfying to Rachel. Now, however, I can feel her cunt clenching, attempting to milk every drop of my seed from me, in the ultimate act of adoration.

I can feel her pussy flexing violently as she climaxes a second time, but deep down, I know that there was nothing particularly stellar about my performance. Previously, making her cum took skill and concentration... but now it's so simple. I'm playing the game of sex on easy mode.

It's ironic too. She's receiving just as much pleasure as I've ever given her before... more, probably. And I've only focused on myself. I suppose I must admit that the payload does have certain upsides.

As I begin to soften within her, I draw myself out. She immediately turns around and begins using her tongue to clean our shared liquids off my cock. This alone is highly unusual. Rachel always hated the taste of her own feminine juices, and she would never kiss a dick covered in her own cum before.

But it's what I want, and she knows it. She's bending to my unspoken will, and receiving mental stimulation as a reward. Her eyes flutter with rapture.

Earlier, I couldn't enjoy her teasing kisses, but now they are a beautiful punctuation to a wonderful experience.

Her soft lips touch me everywhere, deftly cleaning my manhood. I pat her head. "Good girl, Rachel." The words are so patronizing, but they flow easily from my lips. "Are you gonna take that seed and give me a son with it?"

She nods eagerly. "I'm your willing brood-mare," she whispers, planting another kiss on my cockhead.

At her words, I begin to stiffen again, but I think I'll wait until tonight to use her a second time. I can feel a bit of clarity returning to my mind. I said some awful things in the heat of passion, but that doesn't make me a bad person. I open the shower curtain to step out.

I gasp immediately, as I notice that Naomi is standing in the doorway. Her head is bowed, with her eyes closed. She's standing completely still, waiting patiently.

"Naomi, what the fuck?!" I cover myself instinctively, which draws a disappointed grunt from Rachel. "How long have you been standing there? Why did you open the door?"

Immediately, she drops to her knees in shame. "I'm sorry, sir!" She exclaims, "I've only been here a moment, and the door wasn't closed when I arrived!"

"What...?" I look at Rachel; her eyes are downcast. "Did you leave the door open?"

Rachel nods dolefully. "I must have, Thomas. Please forgive me!"

This was no accident. Rachel wanted Naomi to hear. It was either because she wanted to show her place as my mate, or to entice Naomi to join... I don't know which. There's no telling how the payload has warped her mind.

I pull the shower curtain closed again. "Close the door, Naomi. And tell me what you need."

I hear the door shut, and a muffled voice comes through. "I can't find your pots and pans, sir. I was going to cook spaghetti, but you don't have anything to cook in."

I sigh. "They're in the... ugh. Give us a minute and we'll show you."

"Yes sir. I'll prep everything I can until then." Naomi says, as her voice trails back down the hallway.

Rachel has wasted no time, having already begun worshipping my cock again with her mouth. She is eagerly attending to the head, perilously riding the line between kissing and sucking.

I sigh with satisfaction, and a bit of apprehension. Whenever I stop the payload, this will all end. But there's nothing wrong with enjoying myself in the meantime, is there?