My growing frustration has left my cock painfully hard, and when I stroke it in my fist, it's tempting to shove her face down into the carpet and fuck her from behind. But it isn't what I want. Despite all rational thought, I want her willing submission, even if it is coerced.

"Please me or face the consequences."

She hesitates, and I close my eyes, battling my warring desires for domination and surrender. I'm intoxicated enough to admit I want her hands on me. I want her softness, even if it is false. I can think of no punishment worse than her touching me as if it is driven by her own free will. But as I suspected, she is not caving. And I will have no choice but to follow through and show her what a monster truly looks like.

With a growl, I begin to shove my dick back into the confines of my trousers when she reaches out to stop me.

"Wait!" she begs. "Please."

"Please what?" I ask gruffly.

"I'll do it."

Her voice is barely audible, and time seems to suspend as I remain there, waiting for her to follow through. Several long moments pass before she wraps a hesitant hand around my shaft.

"Your mouth." My own voice is hoarse, and I force my eyes shut even though I can't see her, and she can't see me.

She is feeling her way around me, uncertain as she brings the head of my straining cock to her lips. My breath hisses between my teeth as her tongue darts out and touches the rigid flesh. It's too soft. Too slow. I want to grab her by the head and force it down her throat. But I can't seem to move, paralyzed by the sensation of her drawing me into her mouth.

A groan rumbles from my chest as I cup the back of her skull and inch my cock as deep as she can take me. She starts to cough, and I push deeper until she’s clawing at my legs and gasping for air. A brief reprieve is all I intend to grant her as I ease away to let her catch her breath, but my wife is determined, pulling me in again, her mouth warm velvet against my hardness. Already, my balls are drawing tight against my body as the urge to release overwhelms me.

I don't realize I'm petting her hair until she leans into my touch.

It's a trick. It's all a trick. Every soft sound that spills from her lips as she takes me inside. The sweet perfume of her own arousal between her thighs. She would never admit that she enjoys the perverseness of this dynamic between us. That it makes her wet to kneel before me and follow my commands. Because that couldn’t possibly be true. She's trying to lure me in again. That's the only logical explanation for this insanity.