Proper Marriage 1 - Matriarch

Disclaimer and info:

The category could also be Mind Control, Loving Wives, Fetish.

The story is about the gradual descent of a man in the hands of a member of the mighty 'fair sex'.

If you're sensitive about female domination, degraded husband, domestic violence, infidelity, cheating spouses, cuckoldry; this story is not for you (not all in this chapter).

If you like things to evolve fast, you still may want to look for another story.

I suggest checking the tags first.

All characters are fictional and over 18.

/o. o

Matriarch

It's 8:49 AM. I can't believe I slept this long. I turn my head; look at the empty pillow with my elevated heart rate, not seeing her there.

Panic takes over again, after a long time.

I know I need to hurry downstairs, as my fear cripples me.

I timidly say "Victoria" while walking down the stairs. I see the half eaten cereal on kitchen table. She's already out. I sit and wait for the rush to wear off.

I wash the dishes and grab an apple as my breakfast.

Looking at our picture on the wall which was taken in our first year of dating, I eat my apple standing there.

It's heartbreaking to see her; that smiling, 'almost' sweet girl's face. Her boy-ish slender body, her legs. My appetite never ceased for her legs. I still find them incredibly sexy, in an irrational way.

I remember how she was letting me kiss her legs in those days; how I couldn't get enough of them even at those times.

She still lets me kiss them. Not much, but she does. But it feels different now. She made them different for me.

I don't know if what I feel for her has still 'love' in it. Maybe it's only a kind of an unhealthy addiction. Or, something else, some sort of conditioning.

Back then, lots of guys were hitting on her, I was a distant bystander for most of the time.

She dated a few of those guys. Looking at them, I always thought she preferred mostly macho or athletic types. Not someone like me. Not someone who would fall in love with her, dreaming of holding her hand.

I never thought that she matched that stereotype of a hottie; not by the looks or style, at least.

But I was almost sure that her boyfriends were living heaven on earth, when there was no one else around.

She had that vibrant, raunchy energy when she was walking around with them. Which made you wonder if you'd be able to be her match. Not just about entertaining her in her daily life, but also stamina-wise, in bed.

Of course, those were my thoughts in my virgin mind.

I had no idea how far they were going or how a girl with a high 'stamina' would look like. I probably always preferred to assume they weren't having sex.

Only after I had a chance to have casual conversations with her, I thought I could be mistaken about her. In time, she kept telling me that she liked gentle, mignon men.

There were funny moments in my memories too.

I remember how she once said 'marriage constitution' when she was talking about marriage. I guessed she was mentioning 'marriage institution'.

Of course, not talking directly to me, just sharing her thoughts near me with other girls.

At first, I didn't even assume she was trying to encourage me. In fact, I was completely oblivious to her intents, until one day she said "It appears, you need me to take this matter into my own hands. To be honest, I find this intriguing, I mean doing it that way; this gives me another reason."

'Reason?' For what?

Looking in my eyes like she was declaring her decision, "As of today, you're my boyfriend. And, you'll be my husband, if no surprises happen on the way."

Like she was joking.

Or, like she rehearsed that before. Like a shy girl who decided not to be shy anymore would. The way they would exaggerate their 'comfortable' act.

But she was never shy. Still, it felt rehearsed.

And, I wasn't aware that we spent enough time to know about each other, not enough to consider someone as 'the one'.

As you'd guess, I was thinking those on behalf of her. Not me.

It was flattering to be chosen by such a girl.

It never occurred to me to think about it for a second. I still don't find myself at fault there. Rejecting her, being who I am, never could be an option. I still can't picture myself say 'Hold your horses, girl; let's get to know each other first.'

Not that she was the prom queen type. She wasn't. But it was hard to ignore her. Her body was too dreamy and attractive for a guy like me; her face was mesmerizing me in many ways. I loved to think that she looked like a dainty girl. Though, describing her like that could be a bit deceiving.

And she had a very distinguishing character. She was different from all the other girls in some way.

She wanted to go slow in our relationship as she guided us to 'our' goal, which was set by her.

The downside of this path was that; we started dating in the second year of college, while I was still a virgin. I know it was my fault not to level up like every other kid. I should've acted with the group when they visited that brothel in first semester.

But, still, I kind of felt lucky; since she always told me that it was giving her goosebumps knowing that she'd be my first, when the time came. 'That's the proper way' she was saying.

She didn't give me a clue about the other side of this equation.

She left that subject hanging, even after I asked her. Let alone giving me details, she kept her silence on whether she ever had sex or not.

She just once said "This is not about some sort of a seal. Marriage is an important decision and I believe that the couple must be very motivated for the first night. For each other."

I couldn't argue against her logic. Not that I bought it. Because me being a virgin wouldn't have mattered if that was the case.

I had a feeling that she wouldn't be that comfortable if I had sex before. She didn't say 'I would be Ok if you weren't a virgin'.

And she told me more than once, how 'proper' it was for me to lose it on that night, in her hands. Those words sounded crazy hot, in my affection starving mind. 'In her hands' became a sexy, cozy description in my mind. I once jerked off just picturing myself in her giantess hands.

Anyway, it wasn't me that had to worry about regretting this decision on that 'first' night she kept talking about. She was the only one taking that risk, according to me.

Maybe the deprivation crippled me; I only fell for her more each day. Her face, her constantly changing moods, her smell. Especially her smell was my first smell representing a female, something that grabbed my soul. Anything about her was occupying my mind bit by bit.

And her legs. I loved to look at them. I loved to touch them, to feel that pure skin. I liked them the most.

As time passed, I was getting to know her more.

I didn't know anything about her temper back then. I had no idea how strong she was. There were signs, which I preferred to ignore, probably.

Once, when we were in a fair, she hit the punching bag and the owner asked her if she was a boxer. I could only guess that it was a high score. She didn't show; her body didn't give a hint about that.

I hesitated when she told me to try. And I was right; I couldn't get half of her score. The look they exchanged with the guy gave me shame. Without breaking the smile, she said "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

He laughed, she didn't. She looked at him cold. As if she was trying to show me how resolute she was about her very recent promise.

As time passed, I also witnessed her argue with other people.

It was easy for her to find someone she would hate every now and then. Time to time, she escalated smallest things.

Maybe I felt 'loved' when I saw her actions in such occasions. Maybe this was what felt like being loved too much by a special girl.

Like that day at the match.

When that hunk pushed me, apparently trying to pick a fight with me. Maybe he saw an easy target beside a hottie and was trying to get her attention. And, how she stepped in, to defend me. How she made the guy step back, shouting at him in his grill, while her hand was on my chest, keeping me away from him.

He was mumbling things like "Get your crazy girl out of my face!"

To me, it was obvious that she was too worried about me; that was the reason she punched him in the face before jumping over him. I still remember how it took 3 people to take her away from him, even after he started to apologize, with blood on his nose.

She didn't want his apology; she wanted to leave a scar. She had to have a very strong love for me.

I was probably wrong.

It wasn't about love. It was about possession. He attacked to something that belonged to her. Someone she designated to a role, which was important in her life plans. That was the reason. That was his mistake.

We were experiencing such events once in a while and they escalated when the scheduled marriage was approaching. I always thought that she was getting too stressed, that was why she was so over the edge all the time.

Her general aura reminded me of concepts 'impatient' or even 'fed up'. Maybe she wanted to take that virginity from me as soon as she could.

She would be Ok after we got married, one could think.

She didn't linger planning our wedding after we graduated college.

At our wedding night, I was like a purse being carried around, attached to her arm.

She had a smile on her face but I could feel her troubled aura was even amplified.

Was she nervous that we were going to have sex after waiting so long? That was on my mind, this thought was making me too horny and I started to feel that stage fright for the first time there.

She loved to do the talking on behalf of both of us; it was kind of funny. As if she wanted to show that I was hers only, since she made it official.

Even to my parents.

"Don't worry. I'll let you visit him time to time" she said to my father, without smiling much. All of us laughed.

We postponed honeymoon, because she told me that it would be 'irresponsible' to skip work in her fist month.

She wasn't a career type but she was fixated on concepts like 'the proper way', 'responsibilities', 'determination' etc., just like her perception of the 'marriage institution'.

As if it was 70s, when everyone was so rigid about every rule. When everything had to solely rely on principles. Maybe she was right but I always felt like such principles bore hypocrisy in them, since it was against human nature.

That was what I thought that day.

Only later, I realized that she wanted us to be at home in our first weeks of our marriage. She cared about her principles, but not just the ones about work. She didn't want us to be interrupted with honeymoon activities or other people. She wanted me for herself. This is what I thought then, I still do.

Because, that wedding night changed everything. Right after we closed the door of our new 'home'.

Out of the blue, her smile vanished and she started to talk in an agitated, serious way. No, I'm correcting myself. Not agitated. Impatient and confident. As if she had been holding her breath for ages.

She was talking about what a marriage was, how rules and roles were important etc.

She was telling me how this marriage was going to work, what my responsibilities were.

Being her husband, how I had to get my shit together, that we had to reconsider the job I found. I still can't remember clearly but she said things about half naked skanks in the bank I worked back then.

Before I could process her words and react, she paused and then warned me to watch my behaviors in front of other people.

"Vicky, stop that, this isn't funny" was my reaction. 'Watch your behaviors' was a too heavy thing to say.

Apparently, she was waiting for such a response from me. Without knowing, I had got her angry just because I laughed at the wedding when she was marking her territory.

She wasn't joking. She was sincerely telling my parents that they needed her approval to visit me.

I couldn't have known that she perceived marriage like the transfer of my ownership from my family to her. I never heard such a concept, especially when it was about a 'man'.

With the confusion and fear of this realization, I was dumbfounded. Apparently, I disrespected her at the wedding, laughing like that.

When I told her to stop, she raised her voice and said "Oh baby. Now, since you're mine, I'll do whatever I want. Since this is my marriage, the one I planned and made it happen, you will just focus on our harmony and do your best, so everything will be under control, at peace."

Could she be such a person?

"And, yes. This is my house, you are mine and you want my approval for anyone to visit you here."

Obviously she was.

Thinking about it, I could recall how her behaviors changed the second we were wed. Like a switch.

As if she had been grinding her teeth, waiting for this day for years. I can't describe my confusion back then. Like I was scammed, I panicked.

"You're joking, right?" I could say again.

She had a facial expression, as if she was trying to 'act' calm. But she didn't look like she wanted to stay calm, just the opposite. I felt like I was being confronted by a hostile person who was trying to pick up a fight with me. Just like that day at the match.

"Kevin. Do you know why and when marriages fail? When everyone thinks that they have a say in every matter. When everyone thinks they actually are equal or can make good decisions. Trust me. This is the proper way, where everyone knows 'his' place. While you were looking at my legs, kissing them, I was busy making plans for us."

"What? Where do you get these ideas? What happened to you? Why are you talking like that? Victoria, if you're serious, we have a prob..."

She slapped me. Yes.

When I opened my mouth to say something, she slapped me again, cornering me. Not like a girl slapping her boyfriend. She practically cornered me and held my neck, looking in my eyes. When I tried to stop her, she got fierce, making me regret it.

It took only a few seconds for her to trip me down on the floor and jump over me.

"This - is - my - house - these - are - my - rules" she was saying while she was sitting on my chest and smacking my face, without letting me move. She even used her fists one or two times.

This wasn't her house, we found and rented it together, we furnished it together like every other 'happy' couple did before getting married. Like every other couple, the bride made the final decision, who would have guessed...?

She wasn't letting me think. With her grip in my hair, she was in my face, telling me a bunch of stuff. Her spit was coming to my lips, eyes and face as she talked like that.

It didn't take long before I started to apologize for no reason but she wasn't stopping.

"Please, Victoria, I understood, I'm sorry. Please stop" I was saying. This was frenzy and you needed to get along with the crazy.

Who would do such a thing in her wedding night?

I was going to learn that this wasn't that uncommon though. Sort of. She was going to teach me.

In time, I understood that this wasn't about anger.

She could have been planning this long before the wedding day. Maybe even before meeting me.

As if this was a necessary episode to happen at the beginning of a marriage. To make sure I understood who the boss would be and what the consequences could be if I didn't learn the significance of the rules.

"This exists in marriages. Most people neglect this but it's a known method. A firm hand is necessary. So, the spouse won't have some wrong ideas. Probably more will be necessary, time to time. You'll thank me later."

This reminded me of some traditions or actions among inferior men or societies, not only in some shitty places but in the whole world, where the husband beats up the wife before and after consummation. I'm talking about the first sex.

Instead of that joyful or magnificent ceremony of being each other's, a procedure of establishing who will be ruling that marriage.

A heartbreaking, unnecessary performance; where the weak one was obvious. That was what I thought. But she kept talking.

"And it is essential. To remove all confusion about how the rules can be bent sometimes. That love matters more than a harmonious, perfectly functional marriage."

I got it then. I mean how that logic worked. Loving couples believed they had credit for error. That was the confusion she was talking about.

It was always sad to hear about those cases. I always pitied those women, who sometimes had no say in choosing their spouses, who were already in panic about that first night.

On top of that fear, I couldn't even start to fathom being beaten by that disgusting creature in pants. Someone much stronger than them. Right before that disgusting molestation waiting for her.

There was no doubt what my role in this marriage was supposed to be, according to her. I guess you can imagine my confusion and level of panic.

And, finding myself in those women's shoes, with the added shame of being beaten by my wife like that, something was broken in me.

At first, I tried to stop her.

When she started to hurt me too much, I even tried to hit back. She overpowered me and managed to break my resistance with her wild violence. She was wild; there was nothing sane about her at that moment.

Probably, during her 'procedure' she got carried away with it and her nature took over. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't that certain she would overpower me so easily. So, she didn't hold back, she made sure it was a 'win' for her. Or, she wanted to erase the tiny misconception that I could fight back. From both of our minds.

She was in that 'or, more, if needed' phase, probably.

She didn't stop there.

Perhaps, she had been reading or hearing about those marriages as well. Maybe she had been taught such things at home; maybe she misunderstood what was being told. I had no idea how her mind digested who knows what kind of information.

The reason could be anything. Maybe, when she heard about such a concept, she found it intriguing. Maybe it became a fetish or an obsession for her in time.

Like a girl dreaming about her wedding day, may be Victoria was producing a smile on her face, thinking about her wedding night, just the way we were experiencing.

I had no idea where this came from.

Anyway. As I said, she didn't stop there. Not even after I caved completely, held and kissed her hand, showing my submission to my alpha in this small pack, like a dog would. I had no other ideas left, I tried anything I could.

My nose and lips were bleeding and my blood was getting smeared on her wedding gown when she was dragging me to our room, holding me by the ear.

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't acting like a caveman. With the clear win she just achieved, she was walking elegantly, showing me she still was a full stack delicate beauty.

Like a lunatic, part of my mind was still optimistically wondering if we were both virgins that night. She was still too attractive for me, if that wasn't my unsatisfied hunger for her talking in my head.

She was still talking as we were approaching the bedroom "The sooner you accept, the happier you'll be."

For a second, I believed that I felt exactly like those women I talked about. I was about to be taken to bed to experience what my spouse had in mind, without any rights to object or state an opinion.

But, I know I wasn't objecting; I even could be thinking that I could accept that, she could be right. Maybe that was why she chose me. Since she was so obsessed with the rules, how 'her' marriage had to be, it made sense.

And, she probably kept me within her grasp, becoming some sort of an obsession for me, by not putting out.

That night was the night she took my virginity; I can't find any other way to phrase it. Totally in line with the previous scene.

She didn't spend time. Pushed me on the bed, released my cock, slid her panties aside and mounted me without taking her gown off.

The way she was riding me proved my point. Her point, to be precise. She was taking me.

Slowly, powerfully, without haste. Claiming my cock with her pussy slowly, making me feel every second, every touch; making sure I was aware of the reality of the situation.

Showing me that I had to let her do what she wanted, obediently. She didn't need to rush or hold my arms.

Grinding her crotch on me, exerting her power as she was using my cock for her purpose. I can't say for her pleasure because she was still constantly talking about her description of a husband, slapping my face when I didn't look like I was paying enough attention.

"You will learn to be a decent husband for me."

I still can't be sure what was more frightening. That she was such a person? Or, how she hid that from me for those years?

When I was losing my virginity, there was mostly fear in me, looking at her fierce eyes, as she was making me her 'husband' like that. The adjusted idiom 'make an honest man out of me' wouldn't fit this situation, obviously. She found me honest and kept me honest all the time.

I wasn't able to see it that way then but when I think of it now, I guess she was finally getting raunchy after what happened, since she came twice before I came. Especially, slapping me helped that.

She wanted to fuck me one more time that night and I got slapped again when I struggled to recover from previous sex. When I couldn't get it hard fast enough.

"Laziness and lack of enthusiasm are things I will show no patience for, boy!" she was saying when I was trying to satisfy her with my mouth.

I was hoping she would get soft after climax but no, she was dedicated.

"Don't think I will let you do this whenever you fail to deliver. I will teach you that."

That could have been the highlight of my life, seeing all her precious and beautiful parts that I dreamed of for years. If only she was her usual self.

All I felt was that I was trying to satisfy the whims of some crazy 'stranger'. Even those legs I was in love with, they didn't feel familiar that night.

I was licking some person's sex to calm her down, between those legs which were keeping me in my place, listening to her comfortable and calm 'uhmmm' or exhaling voices.

I know it's stupid or pathetic but I still get horny thinking about that night.

It was my first and the dark mood still cannot erase how she established her status with all her beautiful parts. Maybe that was part of her plan too. Maybe she used my inexperience and years of desire for her against me. To increase my devotion to her.

I know there are many things I could have done. I could have tried to wrestle her, which I did to a point.

I could go to the police, divorce her, and even run away.

I couldn't.

All night, I was desperate to have sex with her. I could hardly wait for the wedding ceremony to be over.

Even after she revealed her true self, at some point when she was dragging me to the bedroom, I couldn't stop that desire for sex from taking over. Maybe I still told myself that she was doing those out of stress.

Or, I was too scared to oppose her. Not just physically. I never came across someone so determined and aggressive.

In the morning, she was relatively sweet to me. At least she was calm.

She hit my hand to stop me playing with my nose, saying "It's not broken. What's done is done; stop making a big deal out of it."

She applied ice on my cheek, as she reminded her words in a calmer fashion. Maybe my obedient, timid mood convinced her that I got the message. Maybe she liked to see me kiss her hand, holding the ice, looking at her sadly.

"I see that we are getting somewhere. Marriage is not a game. You will get used to this in time but I want my husband to behave. I'm not like those other girls or husbands; I won't leave anything to chance. And I will do my best to make this work."

I gathered that she could have had control issues and we could be good if I didn't disappoint her.

I know those words were alarming, I know my attempts to add reason were all bullshit. I knew it back then as well.

But I had no other plan, no considered options in life. And I was in love with her for years; it wasn't possible to fall out of it that easily. I lived those years in her guidance; she was like an addiction for me.

Besides, I had been waiting for this day for years; I had a thousand fantasies about her and every part of her body.

And, as she was softly touching my cheek as she talked, being caressed by her like this felt good.

To both of our surprise, I got an erection looking at her, listening to her.

Her reaction wasn't playful. She looked at me and said "That's not very appropriate, is it?" while her hand was moving there to hold it and stroke it a few times. She looked at it as her hand was moving over it, clearly trying to make a decision.

"Since you need time to get adjusted..."

We fucked on the kitchen table and it felt good. That was the first time she hugged me and kissed me since we came home. I still want to remember that one as my first sex, rather than the real one.

When I came in her arms, this whole thing felt sustainable, with this rewarding sex in it. With her lips on mine.

She has a great appetite and one way or another, sex always existed in the middle of all this chaos. She made sure it was so. I just had to do as I was told.

I still have the hots for her, in a very different way. She taught me to yearn for sex with her. Not like I dreamed about, not even close.

I always thought this would be a marriage with compassion, loving sex and cuddly moments in it.

In a short time, I realized what I got was almost the opposite of that. Tension, unhealthy, obedient devotion and a very different sex definition.

Her perception about marriages was our main topic the first week.

Especially some of the things she was saying were out of this world.

"Marriage is built on many pillars. One of them is in the form of genitalia. Which is a proven thing, I've been reading about this a lot. As in any well-functioning pack, there is a leader in marriage and the leader's genitals symbolize more than just sex. This may be the husband or the wife, changing in different cultures or individually."

When listening to her, it was surreal. She was talking about such extreme bigotries without even blushing or smiling. She was dead serious. She was telling me what she was planning to establish.

"And, this is the most important part; the leader likes to see the spouse satisfy their sexual urges. Besides showing respect and care for their genitalia. In our case, you want to respect my genitals, you want to show your appreciation by relieving my stress whenever I see fit."

I wondered where she was finding such things to read. From a teenager's blog?

"This is the right way to show that you accept your role near me and declare your will to follow your leader in life, me. You will see that it will make you feel content. Knowing that I will be doing this mostly for you, you will understand how satisfactory this is. For you."

If I wasn't in fear and confusion, this might have been a very arousing conversation, with all that talk about her genitals. Her genitals were beautiful.

If there wasn't fear in it, maybe I could be inclined to get horny in a female lead relationship, if this was all about sex.

But all I understood was that I had to deliver sexual gratification to my wife, in a mandatory way, in a way that she would choose and approve. Of course, while I was performing, she would constantly analyze and make me get better at it.

If I wasn't losing it when I was in bed with her, I could think more clearly.

It was like a recursive reset cycle for me. Where I found myself in the first spot again and again, only in a deeper position. If it wasn't so, maybe I could do something about my situation. My mind was blank and she was successfully moving forward in her agenda.

In time, I learned to feel proud when she didn't reprimand me after satisfying her, in any way she preferred.

She didn't neglect me.

I always had my satisfaction.

But she described this as well, when she was in a good mood, when I earned the privilege of eating her pussy after delivering the real deal, like a proper husband should.

"I can relate to how you're feeling. Lacking the satisfactory responsibilities such as leading a marriage, you may find yourself in void time to time. I will make sure you don't get confused, make a mistake and go astray. You will always get your little sexual satisfaction, don't worry. Happy dick, happy chick, right?"

As if the main goal was about making my dick happy. As if I wasn't just replenishing from her satisfaction, while trying to make her pussy happy.

And, 'little satisfaction'? I preferred to read this as my not-so-crucial satisfaction.

On the other hand, my dick was happy. I wished it made me and the 'chick' happy too.

That day, listening to her, after I satisfied her again with my tongue, I kissed her pussy to thank her. I still don't remember why I did that. Not a normal kiss.

There was respect and devotion in that kiss. Right after she enjoyed her satisfaction.

She liked seeing that. And she expected me to kiss her pussy and thank her after every time she put her pussy in my mouth. She sees that as my way of showing my appreciation to my leader and showing my respect to her genitals. Maybe she wasn't wrong.

As time passed, my orientation seemed to be over.

When this fog started to clear, it was already too late when I understood that I made a wrong decision, staying.

She touched the knife sitting on the counter seductively, when I told her I wasn't happy, mentioning divorce, a few months later.

"I'd never, ever mention such a thing. I mean if I were you. Marriage is forever. Remember 'your' wows. Don't even consider leaving me, you're warned."

Unintentionally, I gave her an opportunity to go further, with my attempt.

Seeing how my fear got me crippled after that conversation, she exploited my insecurities.

The same week, she made me quit my job.

Her words were "I don't know who's putting such silly ideas in your mind but, among all my responsibilities, I don't want to wonder what you're doing at work. And with whom. I'll take care of you, don't worry."

She probably thought that I had to be trained better after that day. She waited until I resigned, to make sure I felt more dependent on her.

Her random aggression became a regular conditioning practice. She made it a habit to find some reason to beat me up and make me kiss her hand after each time.

When she was in a better mood, she was making me kiss her legs to show my obedience to her, if I was good. These weren't about sex for her. These were about status.

"It feels good, right? To know you're safe with me. To learn how to behave and get rewarded like this?"

What she meant was that; she wasn't beating me if I obeyed her voluntarily and showed my enthusiasm. And I got to kiss her legs. To feel safety, hugging the legs that could kill me.

According to her, that was what I liked the most.

But as I said, she changed that concept for me. Whenever I look at her legs, they remind me whom I belong to. Not like a romantic belonging, like a captive. A captive who doesn't have the guts to run out, even if the door is wide open.

And, I'm addicted now. Or broken completely. Fear of making her angry is always with me and probably I evolved to relate this to sexual things.

Today, I can beg her not to kick me out if she decides to get rid of me. I'm addicted to her body, to her pussy, to her not-so-frequent kisses. I even can't wait her to return home, to make coffee and serve her as she rests after her long day at work. Which is no harder than my previous work but definitely more important. That's how I feel now. And I learned to love being at her service.

I care less about her beating me. There's some sort of arousal in me all the time, desiring to give satisfaction to my wife, the leader of our house.

I know this is sick but she conditioned me this way. It's been 3 years now and I look forward to returning to my prison when I go out. To cook, to wash the dishes, to do laundry, especially her laundry; to make tea or coffee for her to enjoy when watching TV.

I wish tonight would be no different.

Knowing that it's going to be a nasty evening doesn't change that. Because I woke up late. Because she didn't find her breakfast ready before she went to work.

I don't know, maybe I still have some sort of love for her, besides my syndromic obedience and unhealthy desires for her strong personality, body or sex.

Beaten or not, regardless of her mood, there's not a single night without fulfilling my duties in bed, getting my share of that, since we got married.

She's a very sexual woman and she makes sure that our marriage is 'perfect'.

Meaning, everything is as she prefers them to be. Including sex. Meaning, her spouse is constantly subject to her 'mandatory training' and satisfaction the way she sees fit.

Some days I feel like a captive in this house but most of the time I feel content, belonging to her, as she kept teaching me. Most of the time, my desire to touch her, to give her sexual or domestic satisfaction in any way she wants, is my driving force in this life that I'm finally in terms with.

After that first day, the one we had sex on kitchen table, she never lets me approach her out of the bed. And she doesn't let me suck her pussy before I fuck her. At least in bed.

She says it will make me lazy.

The ones in the living room don't count; they are 'my' appetizers before the real deal.

Lately, she started to rephrase her thoughts about this in a different way. That I have to try harder in bed to earn that privilege, delivering like a husband should. She probably noticed how eager I was for the taste of her pussy. Or, she wanted me to get better. That's why she stopped letting me satisfy her in the living room.

And, about the kitchen table incident.

She says sex out of marital bed is wrong and it would spoil me. I still don't understand what she means by that. But I feel spoiled when I'm between her legs, eating her pussy. And, to deserve that, I have to deliver. With my cock. Which always has to be ready for her. That's what she taught me.

She somehow managed to teach me to find pleasure living under her rule. Besides seeing this as my life goal. She thinks that I learned to feel aroused when it's my turn to have sex with her or pleasure her orally. She doesn't know I never stopped desiring her like crazy. This could be a curse if I wasn't having an instant erection every time she stood up to go to bed, saying "Turn the TV and lights off, bed time."

Anyway.

I almost accepted my place in our lifestyle now. Can't call it 'being in peace with it' but the urge to stay in it beats all other scenarios without Victoria. I accepted that I'm living in her house and all I want is to live under her control, to belong to her. To be a decent husband. The type of husband she will appreciate.

I keep telling myself 'Who cares? If I'm happy, if she's happy?'

Then, I remember how happiness doesn't exist in this marriage.

I'm still fine with 'If she wants this, if I need this...' version of our situation.

Because, now I do need her. I need to be thanking her, hugging her legs, kissing them, to feel safe under her control.

She was right. She knew what she was talking about, when she was saying 'marriage constitution'.

She had this marriage in her mind. And for all those years, she had a constitution in her mind to rule her marriage.

***Upcoming:

I accepted the life I have; I can almost say I wouldn't want this any other way. Not anymore.

Almost, because life isn't limited to this house only.

It's not easy to go out after being beaten by your wife. She doesn't always hit my face but when she does, it's hard to find some excuse for those faint bruises, while explaining them to your friends. Not that I have many friends left. But it happened a couple of times.

...