“... and then he’s all, ‘No, I don’t think you have the authority to make that call’ and I said, ‘Fuck you, I totally have the authority.  You just didn’t like the answer.’”  Jocelyn slammed the empty wine glass down in a manner to which delicate stemware should really not be subjected, then surreptitiously examined it for damage.  On finding nothing objectionable, she repoured.

“You said that to him?”

“Well, no.  Not the ‘fuck you’ part.  But it was understood!”

“I believe you.  The Anglo-Saxon monosyllable was silent.”

“O...kay...”  Jocelyn stared at Emily, daring her to elaborate.

“It’s a thing.  ‘Fuck’ is...”  She sighed and sipped.  “Never mind.  I’m glad you told Alex off without telling him off.”

“Thank you.  When are you coming back?”

“Never.  Working from home is still delightful.”

“Don’t you miss the—”

“No.”

“But what about the—”

“Also no.”

“Seeing other human beings?!”

“Overrated.”

Jocelyn shook her head.  “Yeah, I guess so.  Damn, I thought I could convince you.”

“I love you, babe, and if the office was just you and me, like the old days... But it’s too people-y there, now.”

“Yeah, I know,” she huffed.  “I’d probably do the same if I could get away with it.”

“Yes, you would.  I can do meetings with no pants!”

“I’m not sure Timothy could handle the distraction.  How does Jake deal with your bottomless meetings?” Jocelyn waggled her eyebrows at her friend in an exaggerated manner disturbing to watch.

“He makes them much more enjoyable while he’s under my desk.”

Jocelyn laughed lasciviously as she swirled the red blend.  “God, that would be so much better.  On the one hand, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, but on the other hand... who cares?!  Have you ever done that? Seriously?”

“I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“That’s a yes.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“No, but if Jake was doing the ‘kissing’ you could tell.  Should tell.  Spill!”  Her wild gesture almost did and she set the glass down again.

“Hey, what can I say?  I married the man for his tongue.”  Jocelyn didn’t know the half of it.  It was all Emily could do to not burst out with a detailed narration of the bizarre events of the past week.  She should derail this soon before she said too much.

“Yeah,” Jocelyn looked wistful and mildly buzzed.  “That’s what I thought.  I mean, not that he’s not a good-looking guy, or anything, but... I wish Tim would do that more.”

Jocelyn was not making it easy to avoid the topic.  “He doesn’t?”

“He does.  I mean, I insist pretty much any time we get naked.  But I don’t like to have to... ask for it, you know?”

“I do.”

“You have to ask?”

“No, I meant ‘I do know’,” she replied.  “Remember, I dated Charles for two years.  I know what that’s like and swore I’d never be with someone like that again.”

“And Jake doesn’t need prompting.”

“My god, I have to beat him away with a stick.  He’d be down on me for hours if I let him.”  And he gets into a trance while he’s doing it, she somehow kept herself from adding.

With that psychic tendency best friends always had, Jocelyn detected the unspoken part and latched onto it.  “Oh?  Got a story to tell?”  Again with the eyebrows.

“Nnnooo.  Not... a story.”

“Tell me a story.”  She started giggling uncontrollably at her own wit.  “An... oral history!”

“My god, you’re cut off.”

“Nope!  C’mon, you brought it up.”

“No I didn’t.”  Had she?  “All right... so... we were at it last weekend, and he was... well, he sometimes just gets very into it, very... animal, I guess.  This was one of those times.”  She hesitated, but Jocelyn looked fascinated, and maybe a little flushed.  “So I told him to do some stuff, and he actually did it, and it...”  She could tell from the confused look across the table that she wasn’t explaining this very well.  “Last week, and a couple times this weekend, it seemed like when he... went down on me... he would do whatever I told him to do.”

“Kinnnnnnky,” Jocelyn said, with a grin.  “Like, all dominatrixy and stuff!”

“No, it... it wasn’t like that at all.  I said he should clean the sheets in the morning, and he did, and then there were...” The details were embarrassing.  “... other things I told him to do, and he did them.  Without asking.”

“You look perturbed by this behavior, but I’m struggling to see why.  Pretty sure ‘I got my pussy licked and then he did the laundry’ is an entire category on Pornhub. It’s like the Holy Grail for wives.”

Emily colored and glanced at nearby tables to see if they were overheard, but no one seemed to be witness to her obnoxious bestie.  “No, I... I get it, it wasn’t a problem, exactly, it was just... it seemed like... he didn’t remember being asked.”  Or told.  “He just... did it.  Internalized it, but didn’t remember it.”

Now Jocelyn looked more intrigued than turned-on.  “Didn’t remember doing the laundry?”

“No, he remembers the actions, but not what caused them.”

“You asked him?”

“Not directly.  In a roundabout way.  He thought they were his ideas.”

“Okay, you’ve hooked me.  What the fuck, Em?  He’s got some kind of memory loss or something?”

“No, not that.  Everything else is totally normal, and it only really happens when he gets that zoned-out look, when he’s, you know...”

“When he’s obsessively going to town on your lady bits with his mouthly bits.”

“Okay, ‘mouthly bits’?!”

“Don’t change the subject.  Has anything like this happened before?”

“I—”  Had it?  She honestly wasn’t sure.  “He’s always been a bit excitable about doing that to me—”

“Stop bragging.”

“—and this isn’t the first time he’s gotten that very intense look about him when doing it... but I don’t remember him ever...”

“Being hypnotized by your pussy?”

“Whoa!  The waitress is right there.” 

“Oops.  Sorry.”  Jocelyn looked only mildly sheepish, and stage-whispered, “But that’s what it sounds like.”

“That makes no sense.  He’s not going to sleep, I’m not swinging a stopwatch in front of him or anything, I’m just...”

“Giving him something that he can’t stop focusing on?”  Jocelyn stared at the glass in her hand once more without drinking, seeming to look into it for answers.  “I dunno, Em.  I find that pretty unlikely.  Isn’t it a lot more realistic that you’re misinterpreting him being helpful around the house as a reward he thinks he’s giving for letting him get sex?  Or something.”

“Sure.” If being helpful around the house includes trying to give me oral every morning to wake me up and every night to put me to sleep.  He’d tried that again the next morning, and she’d told him that it wasn’t necessary, and he’d argued with her.  Like she was depriving him of something he needed.  When he’d gone for it yet again that night in bed, she’d let it happen, and then when she saw him going loopy again she’d commented that she didn’t need him to do that every morning and night, that she needed some sleep, and that she would be sure to tell him if that changed.  He’d said nothing, and she’d let him finish her off (I mean, while you’re already down there, honey...) before she’d told him it was time to rest.  The next morning her “alarm clock” was disengaged and she woke up normally again, without saturated nether regions.  “Sure,” she repeated.  “That... might be it.”  

Her friend nodded, convinced.  “I bet if you have a talk with him about it he’ll tell you that’s what he’s been thinking.  You can tell him he doesn’t have to do chores to earn your... ‘love’.  Or... you know... whatever you guys call it amongst yourselves.”

“We prefer the Anglo-Saxon monosyllable.”

Jocelyn frowned at her.  “Girl, I can tell you want me to ask what that shit means, but I refuse to engage.” She finished off her wine and reached for her purse.  “I fucking refuse.” 

***

Her libido was in a witness protection program after several days of overuse, and she was dealing with feminine issues for a few nights as well, so it wasn’t until Friday night that there was even a chance to test the boundaries again.  

She had spent a few moments that week asking Jake carefully planned out questions, striking a casual tone to make them seem less weird or out of the blue, but the closer she interrogated him on his behaviors in the past week, the less she agreed with Jocelyn’s assessment of his thought process.  Jake seemed oblivious of his own motivations, and everything he said about it sounded to her like... rationalization?

It eventually occurred to her to talk with him about it next time—well, the next time his mouth became otherwise busy.  Which was starting to sound more and more appealing, truth be told, as the days progressed and her sex drive waxed once more.  And as she thought of that glazed look in his eyes, and of the implications if it was true.

Dinner had been a quick stop for GoodBad Chinese: their shorthand for any Chinese restaurant food whose ethnic authenticity was questionable but was nonetheless delicious.  Wing-On Chinese  Family Dining fit the bill, and they kung paoed and happy-dragon-suppered their way to culinary nirvana.  They chatted about their respective days as they sat on the sofa in front of the TV, a police procedural providing background noise.  Emily offered him the remains of her plate when she was full, and he was eagerly scarfing it down while she organized the leftovers for a run to the fridge.  When she returned, he had set aside both plates and had his feet on the coffee table.  She shoved them off with an eye-roll and sat on his lap.  “Well, mister, what are your plans this evening?”

“Plans?  That sounds suspiciously like something I do at work.  Those words have no place here, in my home.  On my couch.  With my wife.  There shall be no plans.”

“Oh no?”  She kissed his chin.  “Plots, perhaps?”

“Schemes.”

“Nefarious ones?”

“Are there any other kind?”

“Yes.  People can have schemes that are practically benevolent.”  She thought about her own ideas lately.  “Or at the very least, harmless.”  Probably.

“Well, I don’t hold truck with those sorts.  No, there must be nefari...ority.”

She winced.  In fairness, so did he.  “Okay, we’re done with speech now.”  She kissed him on the lips and whispered, “Or all of your clever schemes will come to naught.”

“Naught?  As in ‘naughty’?”

“Hmmmmm... not so much.  All of your cards tonight have been dreadfully misplayed.”

“That can’t be so.”  He slid his hand up the back of her blouse.  “I have a pretty girl on my lap.  I must be doing something right.”  He did that quick thing with his fingers that somehow never failed to unlatch her bra.  He was better at it than she was, truth be told.

“You’re... coasting on your historical successes.”

“See, now you’re just sounding like my last review.”

“Liar.  I read that review.  It said much nicer things than I would have.”

“Oh?  What would your version say?”

“‘Adequate.’”

“That doesn’t give much feedback I can act on.  Which is important in performance management.”

“Hmmmm... how about... ‘Jacob is relatively skilled with his hands, but remarkably poor at drawing inferences from... situational... uh... from the environment.  He struggles to understand ... messaging which is... nonverbal and... waits for... specific instructions... displaying a low tolerance for ambiguity’...”

“Now that’s entirely unfair.  I totes get subtle messaging!  See, I can tell from your nonverbs that you want me to touch you here.”

“Mmmmmmmaybe.”  Her nipples awoke to the slow and gentle graze with his palms under her loosened cups and she kissed him harder, penetrating his mouth with her tongue.  “But... well, this isn’t the best place for a... a meeting.”

“You didn’t complain last weekend.”  He chuckled.

“I don’t recall the incident you’re referring to, sir.”

“Oh, no?”  His other hand slid up her business skirt.  “That’s a shame.  It was delightful.”

“I think that—” Her breath hitched as he got to her panties.  “I know I’m a crashing boor and not spontaneous but... I want to be in the bed right now.”

“Well, in that case...” He put his hands under her knees and lifted her as he stood.

“Careful,” she warned, snuggling close to his chest.  “Don’t hurt yourself.  I need that body for my own schemes.”

“I’ll try to keep it in good working order.  Now put your arms around my neck... ugh... makes it easier.”

“Am I that fat?”

“Hush, woman.  No, your husband just... hasn’t been to the gym enough... lately.”

“You just called me fat.”

He tossed her on the bed, bouncing her undignifiedly.  “Whew!  I didn’t, but since you bring it up, I’ll need to examine the evidence to give you a good assessment.  Here, let’s take this off to see...”

“Those aren’t evidence.  Those are breasts.”

“Suddenly everyone thinks they’re the inspector.”  He took one nipple in his mouth.  “Noh, dese seem mormal ta me.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full, inspector.”

“Shut up and let me do my work.  Ma’am.”

And he did.  It was loving and he was both familiar and endearingly rough with his body in a mannish sort of way, but when he touched her he was delicate and perfect and she arched back against the pillow as he kissed his way down to her loose skirt, rucking it up in folds over her hips as he exposed her lacy underwear.  He kissed around them and over them to tease her further until she was desperate for more and whispered, “Please...”

She heard rather than saw his grin, heard it through the delighted “mmmmmmm...” he hummed into her sex.  His hands pulled against the sides of the panties and slid them down her legs with practiced ease before setting them reverently aside.  He paused inches from her, whether for effect or in anticipation she could not say, but it didn’t last more than an instant.  He returned to kiss her there... where she wanted him, needed him most.

At first he was merely slow and romantic, giving light kisses from her light fur to her upper thighs, and nuzzling her labia in passing.  That may have taunted him even more than her; it wasn’t long before he parted her nether lips with his tongue and began to lap and suckle there, and his gentleness faded as her flavor permeated his mouth.  She gasped in reaction to his excitement, and felt his hand seize her ass with urgency.  He spread her open eagerly, unapologetically rough as he ate her with lust and rapidly vanishing control.  She loved seeing him like this, feeling him like this... mad with her scent and flavor, tongue dancing on her and in her: probing, plunging, licking.  She often just closed her eyes and absorbed the power of his desire in these moments, excitedly repeating perverse mantras in her mind that made her peak again and again for his tongue: He loves doing this to me.  He loves my smell and my taste.  He loves making me come.  

But with her experiences in the last weeks she couldn’t do that... she had to see, had to know...  She watched him devour her, watched as he latched onto her clit like it was another nipple and began to suckle it.  She felt him take that little nub into his mouth, over and over, rhythmically, and he was doing something, pressing it against his palate...?  Whatever it was, it sent her into paroxysms of bliss and she felt her juices flood against his face as she began involuntarily bucking up into him.  She was crying out wordlessly and his grip held her firmly in place as he forced his tongue into her again and again, as he held her to his mouth regardless of what her hips were doing.  Her orgasm was followed by another, and more in quick succession; she couldn’t think, let alone count, but he didn’t relent.  Her eyes, involuntarily shut for the climaxes, slowly opened, and she looked down at him to see... yes... oh, god! she came again... yes! that look on his face, he was lost in her again, she knew.  He was in that space.

She forced herself to focus, to concentrate on her plans.  What were they again?  Uh... “Jake, darling, you can stop for the moment.  That was wonderful...”  She felt like collapsing and sleeping but needed to take the opportunity.  “Wonderful.  But I need you to come up here and lay with me.”

Jake wasted no time; he stopped what he was doing and made his way up her body to her side.  She could smell her musk all over him, and briefly kissed him to taste it as well.  His eyes were half-lidded and vacant.

“Jake, love, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you... are you awake, darling?”

He paused for a bit and she wondered if he’d understood her.  “I don’t know.”

My God.  “That’s... that’s fine.  I want you to listen to me carefully now.  Can you do that?”

“Okay.”

“Good.  I—” Dammit, she should have written it down or something.  “I want to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer me honestly.  Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.”

“When you’re between my... when you’re licking me... do you feel like you need to do what I say?”

His voice came back dreamy but definitive.  “Yes.”

“Why is that?  And when did this start?”

He was silent for a moment and she thought he might not answer, but then: “I don’t know.  It just feels right.”

“Feels right... to do what I tell you?”

“Yes.”

God, she was heating up again at the admission, even though five minutes ago her sex had seemed entirely satiated.  “When I tell you things, while you’re eating—while you’re pleasuring me with your mouth... do you remember them later?”

“... No.”

“But you still do them.”

“I... do...”

 “Do you know why?”

“No.” A pause. “It just feels right,” he repeated.

It sure does.  Sooooo right.  “That’s good.  That’s very good, my love.” She absorbed that and continued.  “Does this happen... every time you are licking me?”

“No.”

“What is different?”

He quietly processed the question. “Sometimes, I just enjoy being with you and giving you pleasure.  Other times...” He sighed drowsily.  “... I feel obsessed with your pussy, like it’s my whole world.  Like you’re my goddess.”

“Omigod.”  Or Omigoddess, rather.  She was heating up further and couldn’t stop herself from moving away from her planned questions to the unvetted, half-formed ideas that had crept up on her while she drifted off to sleep at night over the last week.  “You... you can keep feeling how right that is.  To do what I tell you to do while you’re... going down on me.  It’s so right to do that, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You can let that feeling grow stronger.  You can... let the words sink in further, to your inner self.  You don’t have to remember them when you’re awake, in fact... it’s easier, more relaxing to not remember.  But... you will continue to—” Obey, she didn’t say.  She couldn’t say.  Or wouldn’t.  “—to do what I say, won’t you?”

“I will do what you say.”

“Good, my love.  You’ll... that feeling of obsession with my... with my pussy...”  Here goes... “You won’t just feel that sometimes, now.  You’ll feel it every time you eat me. Every time.  That obsession, that act of... worship.”  She hadn’t formulated what was coming out, but it felt glorious to say it aloud.  “When your face is between my legs, when you’re tonguing me... you will always feel it as a display of devotion, of reverence, always feel excited and privileged to be allowed to be there, and always... Always... listen to my—” Don’t say it, don’t say the word... “—instructions.”

“Yes.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.  “Yes.  Repeat that for me.  What will you do?”

“When I am eating you out, I will always... worship.  And I will always listen to your instructions.”

“Good.  That’s... very good.”  She touched his cheek and snuggled close, feeling his untended erection press against her.  She still felt excited and aroused, though partially spent, but vaguely disquieted, like she had been spending all of this time taking without giving.  And while she didn’t exactly feel guilty, she definitely wanted to give back.  To reward him for—

being such a good boy 

—his dedication to her needs, her desires.  It seemed entirely natural, then, for her to part her nether lips around him and take his cock into her, to feel him fill her.  “My love, before we go to sleep, I want you to... to take your joy in me.  Inside me.  Feel all the pleasure you want... you deserve.”  She inhaled sharply as he pushed into her to her limits.  “Take... take me.”

And he did, with vigor and his strength and the hardness of an erection teased into steel by a faceful of immersion in her scent and flavor, and with her own enthusiastic response.  She thrust back against his motions, and while it wasn’t an easy hill to surmount, she managed to come from grinding against his pubic bone just as he crossed that line himself.  He kissed her with passion as he jetted into her, and she caressed his face with one hand and his ass with the other.  When they were complete, she whispered tender words in his ear, most of which involved their love, and some of which told him that it was time to sleep.

As she lay there and drifted off into satiated oblivion, she considered what she was doing.  She knew that she might be crossing a line that was not exactly healthy for her marriage, for her relationship, but... she saw no real harm in it.  After all, he was getting what he wanted, what he clearly desired in the core of his being, and she was getting... God, what she was getting! 

She also knew that the word she had avoided using was wrong, was the path to a place she dare not go.  Not ever.  Not yet, said an internal voice that she immediately suppressed.  She had stopped herself in time, had replaced the word with “instructions”, but what she had almost said, had maybe wanted to say, was something else.  Something not exactly different, but certainly more questionable.  Something darker.

Commands.