Romie and Julian Ch. 06

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Note to reader: You may be unlikely to delight in this story if femdom and pegging (strap-on anal sex) don't get your blood pumping. You may be confused if you have not read the first five chapters. Apart from that, chances of satisfaction are projected to be high. Hope you enjoy!

************

Deep breaths.

I tried to calm my nerves as I drove us towards my parents' house. I couldn't believe this was happening. It was surreal.

I looked over at the beautiful woman in the passenger seat. She smiled at me sweetly. From this angle, she seemed like the perfect idyllic girlfriend. Who wouldn't want to bring a girl like this home?

I shifted uneasily in the driver's seat.

My boxer shorts felt especially rough, itchy and uncomfortable in stark contrast to the panties I'd been wearing lately. Had boxers always felt like this? Of course, rough or not, I sure as hell wasn't going to wear panties to visit my family. I wasn't sure there was any way to make it through this visit without humiliation, but there were certain things I could control, and my choice of underwear was one of them.

I clenched my asshole, unfilled at the moment. The slight ache of our last coupling still lingered. I was so aware of my bottom nowadays. Romie had been butt fucking me every day, and still I anxiously awaited the next time.

Each time, I resolved to tell her 'No' the next time. Each time, I reassured myself that the next time she wouldn't be so smooth or I wouldn't be so horny. Her streak of making me cum hard while fucking me up the ass had to break at some point. Right? But she was like an artist in her prime. Like sometimes I literally thought some documentarian should be filming her fucking me and then interviewing her about it afterwards.

She hadn't brought me to the fabled 'assgasm' yet, always giving me some penile stimulation to push me over the edge. Her mother had been shockingly professional and pleasant, without a single disparaging comment as she exchanged my prior collar for a type 2 that allowed spontaneous erections again. Even so, Romie hadn't yet jerked me off when we were linking. She had also requested I refrain from jerking off on my own until I learned to cum anally.

Instead, as she thrust her link up my rear, she watched my cock like the needle on an instrument panel, gauging the effect of this angle or that rhythm. When she was ready to make me cum, she would lick her fingertip and tease it lightly around my glans or maybe rub little circles on the underside of the shaft. It felt like I was getting closer to cumming on her shaft each time. I was starting to believe that cumming from anal-only might not be a myth after all.

The memory of her warning, about 'ruining me' for other women, played in my mind more and more frequently. It was beginning to believe I really couldn't live without her. And that scared me.

We passed the exit sign for my hometown. I turned on my blinker.

This was a bad idea. We should have waited until I was fully comfortable with this whole matriarchal collared identity before introducing it to my family. For the hundredth time, I thought back to that night in bed when Romie had convinced me to bring her home to meet my parents...

************

"I'll come with you."

"What?"

"For National Day. Tell your mother your girlfriend will be accompanying you. I should have met them already with how serious this relationship is. It's time."

"Romie... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? What have you told them about me so far?"

I shrunk under her gaze and looked away.

"You haven't told them anything," Romie astutely surmised.

A pit formed in my stomach. I wasn't ashamed of her; I hadn't betrayed her, I just- I inhaled loudly through my nose and blinked at her. I probably looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights I felt like.

"I just-"

"It's fine," Romie said, and as far as I could tell, she meant it. "I know it will be hard for you to... share this news with them. I should be the one to present your collar to them face-to-face and answer their questions."

The pit in my stomach began to grow, mushrooming into a verifiable abyss. "No, I'll tell them."

She ran a steady hand through my hair and brought my eyes back to hers. She looked at me with sympathy and love. "Tell them what? That you've joined a cult?"

I let my head fall back onto her stomach. "Yeah."

She chuckled softly. I enjoyed the accompanying rumble in her belly.

"If you tell them, then they'll start picturing... God knows. Some dominatrix that drugged you and keeps you locked in the basement. They'll probably start planning an intervention as soon as you hang up."

Now it was my turn to chuckle.

"But..." she paused for dramatic effect, "If I'm standing right next to you when you tell them, then they'll be instantly reassured by my winning smile and calm, non-crazy eyes."

"I dunno," I mumbled miserably, unable to see any positive scenario.

"Trust me. Just tell them you're bringing home your new girlfriend, who you really want them to meet because you're so hopelessly IN LOVE."

"Yeah, I still dunno..."

"Yeah, ya do. Anyway, good talk. You about ready for the next round?" She smirked while stroking her strap-on back to full stiffness.

*************

Ever so slightly, I noticed my hands seemed to be shaking on the steering wheel. Maybe a miracle would occur, and the car would spontaneously develop engine trouble.

From her place in the passenger seat to my right, I could feel Romie's eyes on me, studying me. She was so smart. Surely, she would know just what to say to calm me down.

Her long nails slid into my hair, and I exhaled, enjoying the sensation. And then she spoke.

"I think you should grow your hair out a bit more."

Not exactly the calming wisdom I was expecting from her. I gave her an irritated, skeptical look. "Can we not talk about this now?"

"What? I think you'd look great with your hair a bit longer... and I want more to grab onto when we're in bed."

"Fuck... Romie," I whined miserably. "That would make me look like even more of a bitch. I don't need any more help with that. I already have this fucking collar around my neck all the time!"

I instantly knew I had gone too far. Romie's face darkened with a magnitude that seemed to dim the entire world, like she had power over the sun.

"I didn't mean-"

"Too late. I get that you're stressed, but that's no excuse." One of the muscles in her face twitched as she glared at me, the killer inside her shining through her sweet outer facade. "I should make you pull over and take you over my knees right now, but we don't want to be late to your parents. I'll spank you when we return tonight. Count on it."

Like I cared about anything that might happen if I somehow survived this visit and returned home intact tonight. A spanking sounded rather soothing compared to the psychological stress currently compressing my brain.

Romie clearly didn't understand how big a deal this was. And my parents had no idea what was about to happen. It was like I was the only person in the world who could see the disaster that was about to occur. That made whatever was about to happen 100% my responsibility.

I scanned the roadside for anything sharp I could run over to get a flat tire.

For some reason, I kept the car on the road, moving steadily closer to my doom, and wondered if I was insane for not swerving into a ditch.

****************

I parked in the driveway and got out on shaky feet. Romie came around the car and put steady hands on my shoulders.

"Hey. Calm down. If I didn't know I was such a catch, I'd think you were ashamed of me." She said it with a wink and a smile, but I wondered if she might really be feeling unappreciated at the moment. I wasn't ashamed of her, was I?

She looked beautiful. To me at least. She stood there in a royal blue matriarchal pantsuit, the most colorful piece of formal wear she owned.

The knee-high boots with a thousand laces looked awfully abrasive to my eyes. I imagined they would look positively militant to my parents. My entreaties to wear something softer, perhaps a nice sundress with some sandals, had fallen on deaf ears.

"You know what people in my culture call boots like that?" I had warned her gently.

"No, what?" she had barked back with a smirk failing to conceal her annoyance.

"Combat boots. They call them combat boots. Like you're going to war."

"Nonsense. Combat boots don't have nearly this many laces."

She had been firm in her view that we needed to be direct and honest. My collar would be clearly visible. She would not be wearing a dress or any other out-of-character clothing.

I tried to console myself with the three concessions I'd secured: 1) the blue (not black or charcoal) color of her suit, 2) her wearing her hair down instead of up in a bun like she usually did. She did look modestly less imposing than usual. And 3) the fresh-baked apple pie she slid out of the backseat to balance on her palm.

Romie had wanted to bring a platter of her famous Roussakis, which were kind of like brownies but with a thick layer of nuts in the middle. They were quite tasty, but they were distinctly matriarchal. Just explaining what they were would have forced us into discussing the matriarchy, and I wanted that discussion to develop naturally... or maybe not at all.

So instead, Romie had spent the last week learning to bake an apple pie. The example in her hand was her 9th draft. I had been forced to taste all of them and give extensive feedback. I assured her that she had produced an exquisite specimen of the dessert, though I was a little sick of apple pie at this point.

"Seriously," Romie cupped my cheek softly with her free hand, "You've got me right here. This isn't that big a deal. It's going to be fine."

I nodded weakly, trying to force myself to agree with her by sheer willpower, before turning to my childhood home and ringing the bell.

My muscles tensed as the door swung open.

But it was only my little sister Sally standing there. Sally was a sophomore in college, home for the holiday.

"Here you are!" she smiled before calling over her shoulder, "Julian and his girlfriend are here!"

She stepped forward and hugged me. I might have held on a little tighter than usual. I needed the hug.

She pulled away from me and turned towards Romie.

"Sally, this is my girlfriend Ramona Shrader."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sally. Please call me Romie." Romie confidently offered her hand to shake.

Sally just kind of blinked at her, taking in the cut of her suit, computations working quickly in her mind. Her eyes shot over to me, to my neck, seeming to see my collar for the first time.

Her jaw dropped open in a disbelieving smile. "No..."

I looked my sister in the eye and gave her a weak smile and a confirmatory nod.

She turned back to Romie and took the proffered hand between both of hers, shaking it vigorously. "Ohhh! Yes, very nice to meet you, Romie! Very nice! Hoah hoah! What an impressive woman you are! Come in, come in! Oh, this is gonna be the best National Day ever!"

This wasn't the response I'd anticipated from Sally. I'd thought she would just think the situation was kind of weird. Instead, she seemed tickled pink. She seemed giddy. Had she become a closet matriarchy fan?

We stepped inside. Sally closed the door behind us, alternating between smirking at me and looking at Romie with respect and awe.

Romie took the moment to transfer her baked offering to my family member. "And this is just a little apple pie that I baked," she said as she passed the pan to my sister, looking over to me for reassurance that she'd completed the ritual successfully. I nodded and winked back.

My sister took the pie with disinterest. "Apple pie. Sure. That's great." She looked up from the pan back to Romie and beamed.

"So you must be like a really... POWERFUL woman, huh? You probably know all kinds of stuff about like seduction, right?"

Romie actually blushed and shot me a look like, 'Are you sure THIS is your sister?' before looking back at her. "Well, I know some things."

"Huuhhhh, hehehehehehe," my sister guffawed like a stunned groupie before regaining a bit of her composure, "can you like... can you teach me?"

At that moment, the sound of footsteps moving from the hall to the entryway made us all look up.

My mother and father stood there smiling in welcome. Then I watched the realization bloom across each face.

My father was obvious. His eyes narrowed with suspicion when they saw how Romie was dressed. As they moved to me, the smile disappeared. They shifted to my collar and went cold. His eyes moved up to mine, as if to confirm this wasn't some poorly thought out joke, and then back down to the collar. His jaw clenched.

My mother was still smiling. Only now her smile seemed to be frozen in place. Like she had realized allowing any change in her facial muscles might betray what she was thinking. Only her eyes moved, mostly scanning Romie up and down, trying to solve the riddle of her.

My head bobbed forward a few times before I could unstick my tongue. "Mom, Dad, this is Ramona Shrader, my... my girlfriend."

My mother raised a hand toward Romie, but the positioning was wrong to shake. The fingers were pointed toward Romie with the palm down, like maybe some kind of cross between a weak instinctual greeting and a halt gesture.

Romie seamlessly took my mother's hand between both of hers. "Please call me Romie, Mrs. Winters. I'm so pleased to finally meet Julian's parents."

My mother still had the ridiculous smile frozen on her face. Her hand shook up and down slightly in Romie's grasp. "Yes... Romie... Julian's girlfriend." She looked over to her husband for aid.

My father seemed to have kept his head a bit better. "Romie," he said extending his hand to shake. She stepped toward my father, subtly changing her posture from the consoling lean she'd used with my mother to a stronger front with her shoulders squared and pulled back.

"Mr. Winters," she responded as she took his hand and shook, keeping his eye contact without blinking with a pleasant smile on her lips, "I see where Julian gets his firm handshake."

My father gave her a lopsided grin, the same one he used when a salesman gave him a ridiculously high starting price. "We have lots to talk about."

I was pleased to see no outright hostility from him towards Romie. Good. He probably blames only me.

I hugged my mother who seemed to be recovering. "Julian, it's so good to see you. Are you okay?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm fine."

I looked over to my sister. Sally wore a shit-eating grin. I figured she had realized that from this moment on, she would henceforth always be 'the good child.' But maybe she was just savoring the raw entertainment value of an admittedly unique moment.

"Is... is dinner ready?" I said awkwardly and loudly to the room in general.

My mother nodded several times. "Yes, all ready."

I looked at my father who finally broke his stare with Romie and met my eyes. "Let's eat," he said.

******************

We made it through the first course without addressing the elephant in the room. At least, no one outright said the word 'matriarchal.' It still felt like every time my parents looked at us they were picturing her fucking me with her strap-on, but that was probably just my imagination.

Sally spent most of her time staring at Romie, studying her. I watched her sit up a little straighter in her chair after noticing Romie's immaculate posture. It was adorable. She seemed younger than the last time I saw her.

"So how did you two meet?" my father asked like a police lieutenant inquiring about the scene of a crime.

"We met at work, Dad," I answered defensively. See? I didn't seek this out. I didn't wander into some kinky sex club. I was just GOING TO WORK!

"Really?" he chewed his mashed potatoes with ridiculously slow exaggerated movements of his jaw. It reminded me of some movie scene stored in my brain of a skeptical interrogator chewing gum while staring down a guilty perp.

Romie jumped in with a warm smile, "That's right. I had already identified Julian as the cutest accountant at our firm, but I didn't approach him until I saw his pretty eyes staring at me from across the staff lounge. I fell for him right away."

"Awwww," my mother gushed, clinging to such an innocuous, normal statement while such statements were still available.

My father swiveled his gaze from me to Romie. "And what do you do there, Romie?"

"I'm director of strategy in the business operations department."

"Oh, that sounds like a good job," My father gave me a hard look, "Does she make more than you, Julian?"

"Ha ha, I'm sure she does," I said, laughing it off while urgently reaching for my water glass.

"And what do your parents do, Romie?" my mother intervened diplomatically.

Things seemed almost normal.

***********

We managed to make it to the dessert course before things got serious.

My mother served Romie's apple pie alongside her own peach cobbler. Vanilla ice cream on top of each, of course. They were both so delicious that I hoped maybe we could just focus on the food and then slip away.

Yes, I could picture it. Everyone had seen my collar. They had met Romie and ascertained she wasn't a psychopath. That could be enough for this first meeting. We could just leave certain things unsaid for the moment, deferring them to future interactions, perhaps many years down the road.

But that is not what happened.

"So Romie, I see that you're matriarchal," my father paused just long enough to give her a chance to deny it, on the off chance I'd just decided to start wearing a collar as a fashion statement I suppose. Romie just continued to listen attentively.

"I assume your mother is too? You were raised that way?" he asked.

"And her mother before her. My grandmother was the first to convert on my mother's side, my great-grandmother on my father's side," Romie replied before taking another bite of cobbler, keeping her tone light and casual. I prayed that would be it.

"Oooh! How does one convert?" my sister asked enthusiastically.

My mother hushed Sally, and Romie had the good sense not to respond or look at her or even smile. Instead, she took another bite of cobbler as if she hadn't even heard Sally. "Mmmm, this is an amazing peach cobbler. I'd love to get the recipe from you, Mrs. Winters."

My mother beamed with pride, and maybe relief at the attempt to return to proper dinner conversation.

But my father pressed on. "How long have you two been dating?"

Romie took her time chewing to see if I wanted to field this one. When I didn't say anything, she jumped in before the silence stretched too long. "Let's see, Julian, I guess it's been almost nine months now?"

At this, my father, my mother, and my sister all looked at me in surprise. Their glances were frankly accusatory.

I hadn't lied to them. I wasn't actively hiding anything. I just hadn't mentioned it.

"Yeah wow. Time flies." The words sounded lame as I said them, I knew, but I had to say something.

My father's glare focused in on me now. I felt the urge to squint under his intensity.

"And how long ago, Julian, did you let her wrap that... thing around your neck?"

I shot a quick glance down the table. My mom and sister both looked spooked, recognizing the abrupt shift in tone. They looked like they wanted to defuse the situation but had no good ideas.

Romie had a grim expression now, like she finally understood how this was going to go. But she did not shrink away. On the contrary, she was leaning forward with her body squared toward my father. She met my eyes and gave me an encouraging nod.

I looked back at my dad and answered before I could overthink it. "A little over three months, I think."

My father exhaled loudly through his nose and shook his head. "Julian..." It looked like he wasn't sure where to start, but that only lasted a second. "Ever heard of just saying 'No'? Ever think of discussing this with your family?"

I squirmed in my chair, wishing I had scripted out a response beforehand.

"It just kind of happened, Dad. I wasn't-"

"You're not impulsive, Julian. We raised you better than that. We've always known you to be considerate, careful, thoughtful. You've never let yourself be misled like this before. "

Romie cut in, her voice calm but firm, "Mr. Winters, this wasn't a decision we made on a whim. We knew how difficult it can be for couples from mixed backgrounds, but we decided to move forward together."

"Is that what happened, Julian? You fully thought this out and decided this is what you want for your life, without talking to anyone besides the girl you just met with a huge conflict of interest?"

"I talked to Zach," I blurted, as if talking to my friend proved I was still their reasonable, considerate son. I didn't mention that I talked to him AFTER taking the collar. Okay sure, Dad had a point. It was the most impulsive decision of my life, but that doesn't mean it was wrong.

Romie tried to come to my aid again. "Mr. and Mrs. Winters, I love your son. Very deeply. I would never do anything to-"

"Ms. Shrader, don't your customs typically include asking the man's parents for permission before taking such an... extreme step?!" my father fired back.

Frankly, I was shocked that my father knew this much about matriarchal culture.

Romie looked shocked as well. I could see her actively trying to construct an appropriate response. I couldn't remember ever seeing her so flustered before. "Well, in this case, the situation-"

"I don't recall you asking us for permission!" he spat back, venom dripping from his voice.

Romie looked pissed now. "Well, Julian is an adult. He made... a decision. And I love him for it." She lifted her chin, and her nostrils flared. I could see things were going to escalate before they got better.

"Hey, I'm a progressive guy! The choices people make, what they choose to do in the privacy of their own homes - that's their business. And it's bad enough what you're doing to him privately, but to make him WEAR it around his neck!"

"Jim," my mother said softly, trying to catch my father's eye.

He ignored her completely, keeping his ire turned bright on Romie. "That's not something you do to someone you love!"

"Dad, it's not that big a deal," I said through teeth that I didn't realize I was gritting. I couldn't let him talk to her that way.

He turned back to me. "Well, I won't have it in my house. Take it off, Julian. God damn it. While you're here, you don't wear that thing."

Without thinking, my hands moved towards my neck. I just wanted to defuse the situation. "Okay, okay, it's really okay," I tried to say placatingly.

But when my fingers touched my collar, Romie screamed and shot to her feet, "Julian! What are you doing?!"

I turned back to her with my elbows in the air and my hands on the back of my neck.

Her face was flushed, her expression stricken. I knew instantly I had fucked up. I could see in her eyes that she had been battling my father just fine, but now she thought I had taken his side.

I put my hands down at once. "Romie, I didn't-"

"We're leaving."

"Romie..."

"Keys." She held out her hand expectantly. I looked at her outstretched hand dumbly for a moment before fumbling in my pants pocket and passing her the car keys.

She put her hand on my shoulder. "Five minutes. I'll wait for you for five minutes. You decide if you want to come with me. Or not."

She turned back to my family. "This collar is as much an expression of my commitment to Julian as it is of his commitment to me. I have nothing but his best interest at heart. Please excuse me."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the room. I heard the click of her boots cross the entryway and then the front door slamming behind her.

I took a deep breath to prevent, or at least slow, any tears coming to my eyes. I looked up to see my mother and sister looking horrified. My father was staring listlessly into the top of the dining table.

The familiar setting had made me forget that I was not still a little boy seeking my parents' approval. The person whose approval meant more to me than any other's was no longer in the room.

I shakily rose to my feet. "It's... it's fine. We'll talk about this later," I said to the room in general.

I took off after her.

***********

I knew something like this was going to happen. I told her! I told her this was a bad idea! But I knew now was not the time to bring that up.

As she drove us back to the city in silence, I wondered just how bad the damage might be.

"Romie..."

"Quiet. I'm in a bad mood. We'll talk later."

I glanced at her. She looked completely calm. I knew I'd never seen her this pissed before. I could almost see her building new walls between me and her emotions.

"I'm sorry, Romie. It didn't mean anything! I just reacted on instinct. I wasn't making a statement about our relationship. I just thought taking it off for a second might calm him down."

"Didn't I just say-"

"Ok, I won't talk. After this. But just... please just know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I'm not ashamed."

She signaled and changed lanes without batting an eyelash.

I wrapped my arms around myself as if I could crush myself in a bear hug. Taking handfuls of my shirt, I made fists and tugged on the fabric, trying to dissipate the nervous energy inside me.

I knew words alone wouldn't fix this. It hadn't been words that had wounded her. It had been my hands moving to take off her collar, what she saw as casting off the lifeline that bound us together. It suddenly became clear in my mind that this was a critical moment in our relationship. I needed to do something. Something to convince her that I was completely on her side, that I was just as committed to her as she was to me.

I looked over at her, a vision of placid composure next to my nervous wreck. It scared me. She was probably closing herself off, maybe forever, convincing herself that a patriarchal boy was more trouble than he was worth, making sure she would never be so vulnerable again.

My thoughts started to spiral to worst-case scenarios. Maybe she wouldn't speak to me again. Maybe she would drop me outside my apartment, and I'd never see her again. Maybe this was it.

I couldn't stop myself from speaking once more.

"I... I really messed up. Just please let me start making it up to you tonight. Just give me the chance to show you how much I appreciate you when we get to your apartment."

She moved her eyes onto me. I saw a hint of contempt and moisture beginning to leak into them before she turned away to stare out the window.

We passed the rest of the trip in silence.

***************

Romie couldn't even look at Julian as they walked from the elevator down the hall to her place.

She was seeing red, and she hated that. She prided herself on her self-discipline, on her ability to keep a level head with her emotions in check.

But at the moment, it was all she could do to keep herself from putting her fist through the drywall.

He was going to remove her collar! Right there, in front of his family! "Not a big deal," he'd said. What the fuck?! No, really, what the FUCKING FUCK?!!

Her hand shook like it never had before as she guided her key into the lock. She would have preferred to kick the door down.

She moved straight to the wet bar and poured herself a tall glass of whiskey. She didn't offer Julian one. Romie pulled a chair out from the table and plopped herself down, staring down her unfaithful boyfriend with an unambiguous glare as she took her first pull of the liquor. The punishing burn felt soothing as it moved down her throat and into her belly.

Julian looked so contrite, so pathetic standing there before her in the middle of her living room. Did this relationship mean as much to him as it did to her? Were patriarchal boys even capable of understanding the deep intimacy matriarchal couples can have?

His courage in being the one to adopt a foreign culture, displaying his collar to his friends and work colleagues, accepting her link in his virgin bottom - she had been in awe of his bravery.

But now she cursed his weakness. So his father had yelled at him, it was more at her than at him anyway. Why couldn't he yell back? Why didn't he shout that he was in love with her and saw wearing her collar as the greatest honor of his fucking life?!

Why didn't you protect him? another voice inside her accused. You've always loved that he's demure. He's wearing your collar, he's your responsibility. He warned you it was dangerous there. He pleaded with you not to go there!

Miserably, she took another swig of whiskey in an attempt to silence this new self-critical voice. That's when she noticed Julian had started unbuttoning his shirt. She watched in silence as he stripped completely nude in front of her. He bit his bottom lip, his puppy eyes wet as he dropped to his hand and knees and crawled toward her.

Her face remained impassive as she watched Julian move between her legs, keeping eye contact the entire time, and nuzzle his face into the crotch of her pants.

She looked away, choosing to study her whiskey glass in preference to the pain in her boy's eyes. Part of her desperately wanted to take him in her arms and tell him everything would be alright.

But another part clung to her rage. It told her this was an important juncture in their relationship. It would be folly to ignore what had happened tonight just to avoid some pain. If he wasn't really into her the way she was into him, then continuing down their current path could lead her to a wound she might never recover from. How could she ever know what he really felt about her?

Yeah, more whiskey will definitely help you with this important analysis, the annoying self-critical voice whined in her head.

Shut up, she growled internally as she palmed the skull between her legs and shoved her boyfriend back. The crotch of her pants was still warm with his breath and tears, but she didn't look at him. Not until she felt him tugging at the laces of her boots.

He wasn't crying anymore. Determination shone in his eyes as he carefully worked the laces loose. She let him tug one boot off, then the other. He took her bare foot onto his thigh and caressed it carefully like it was the most precious treasure he'd ever held.

See?! The bitch in her head yelled at her. He's on his knees rubbing your feet! He's exactly what you've always wanted! Did you really expect him to yell at his family? Did you think your submissive boyfriend would launch to his feet in his family's dining room and belt out a perfect speech rejecting them and declaring undying loyalty to you?!

But did he even want to? Romie argued back with herself. Maybe he's just been pretending with me. Maybe his true self has been wanting to rip that collar off since the moment I gave it to him!

She reached for her whiskey glass in search of sagacity but was surprised to find the glass empty.

As she pondered the case of the disappearing whiskey, she felt Julian crawl across her lap and go limp. She looked down at the bare, lily white buttocks bent over her knees and managed a smile.

Good idea, Julian. Her baser instincts agreed with him. This was exactly what she needed at the moment.

*SLAP* She slapped that ass as hard as she could. No. She could do better.

Romie clamped one hand down over his neck to hold him steady. Her other hand chose its target, cocked back carefully, and swung forward with all her emotional angst.

*SLAP* Her sub's fleshy backside jiggled with the impact. The smooth pale skin already pinking up for her.

Yes! This feels right.

*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*

She spanked Julian's butt until his grunts changed to groans and his cheeks fully colored. She thought about stopping before remembering that this wasn't about her arousal. This was a punishment.

*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*

Now each stroke punctuated his sobs with a squeal. His buttocks were mottled with splotches of red over the pink background. Like a romantic sunset, she thought.

Romie ran her palm, which was now almost numb from the repetitive impacts, over her boyfriend's cheeks. Heat radiated off of them. She moved her hand down to his inner lower cheeks, near his hole where she'd spared him, and gave him two little pats to let him know it was over.

"Kneel down. Sit back on your heels," she instructed.

Julian sniffed as he moved down into position on the floor. "Th... thank you, Romie."

She moved back to the bar and refilled her whiskey glass, only half way this time out of respect for the voice of reason that she'd almost completely silenced by this point.

It was now just barely audible in the back of her mind, whining weakly.

Okay, we're all good now, let's not go crazy, alright?

She unfastened her pants and dropped them to the floor along with her panties. She stood there with just her shirt and her liquor. She felt good. It felt good to stop overthinking, just following her instincts instead. She looked back at her kneeling collared boy.

Julian's face was a mess of tears and snot. She reached down and collected her panties before tossing them to him. "Clean your face."

While he wiped himself, she settled back into her chair, sitting on the edge and spreading her legs comfortably with her feet on the floor. She didn't worry about making any kind of a plan. Her desires had free rein now.

She took his hair in a firm, but not cruel, grip and guided him in. Before he made contact, she pulled back and brought the whiskey glass to his lips. She poured several gulps down his throat. He accepted them without protest, which pleased her.

Romie brought the glass back to her own mouth and took a sip while maintaining eye contact with him. Then, she slowly pulled him into her vulva, burying his nose in her pubes. His tongue began to pleasure her.

She looked down at her boyfriend as he knelt between her legs, licking her cunt with his big submissive eyes staring up at her apologetically. His tongue wasn't bad, but he was much better at sucking girlcock than he was at licking cunt. Julian ate pussy like an amateur. Training his tongue was high on her to-do list, just below training his ass to cum.

Still, the visual was making her wet. This was by far the most submissive, the most compliant he'd ever been with her. She sighed with pleasure and let her legs spread a little further apart. "Mmmm, good boy."

She noticed the hope light up in his eyes at her words. That made her pussy get even creamier. As his wet tongue caressed her folds, her whiskey-drenched brain vaguely concluded that her prior worrying had been for nothing. They were clearly back on the right track now.

After a while, she pushed him back gently.

"Can I go get your link, Romie?" he asked sweetly from his knees.

One corner of her mouth tugged upwards as his request made it through the haze of her arousal and alcoholic buzz. "Turn around."

Her man shuffled around on his hands and knees. She grabbed his cheeks with both hands and pulled them apart. His wrinkled little hole looked delicate. Defenseless. She licked her lips.

Let's not get crazy, remember?

This inner voice was really getting on her nerves.

A different, dissenting voice had a more pleasing idea for her.

Let's pound that pussy tonight.

"Go get it, Juli."

She watched with amusement as he crawled, not walked, to her bedroom to retrieve her link. Beneath the metallic lower collar, a fat erection bobbed between his legs as he crawled toward certain ass-fucking. The sight assured her beyond a reasonable doubt that everything was right with the world again.

Romie finished her whiskey and shrugged off her shirt. She popped her bra off, getting fully naked as Julian reentered with her link held reverently in both hands with the pump top of a bottle of lube hanging from a finger.

"Sorry, I was gonna bring it back in my teeth, but I didn't want to hurt it," he apologized.

She smiled at him as he got on his knees and held the harness open for her to step into. The sight made her swoon.

He slid the harness up her thighs, pausing when the internal base neared her vagina. He looked up at her for guidance.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. She'd never had a man put her link on for her, always handling this part herself. She found it incredibly erotic.

Julian gently guided in the internal piece into her sopping wet tunnel, tentatively pushing it deeper until suddenly the base sealed tight against her vulva and her link started to stiffen.

"Whoa," she heard him say under his breath. He held her shaft so gently as it thickened and lengthened in his hand.

Romie considered taking charge, but it was simply too tempting to see what he would do next.

He looked up at her. "Will you... will you go sit in your armchair? Please?"

She arched an eyebrow but granted his request, walking over and sitting her ass down in her comfy plush armchair. Was he improvising or was this a fantasy of his?

Julian shuffled over on his knees. "Thank you." He planted a wet kiss on her tip. After just a few teasing licks, he took her cock into his mouth and started bobbing his head with his eyes on hers. The visual told her she was the queen she knew she was.

As much as the blowjob pleased her, she was hungry for the main event. Romie pulled him off her prong by his hair, and he wordlessly understood her intention. He quickly pumped some lube into his hand and began slathering it up and down her length.

She purred at the pleasant sensation of his hand lubing up her shaft.

He crawled up into the chair with her, crouching over her with his knees sinking into the cushion on either side. He reached back and smeared the excess lube between his cheeks.

Romie watched with pure adoration as he gripped her shaft behind him and guided it to his hole.

"Careful now, Juli baby, it's harder to relax when you have to hold yourself up."

She felt him testing his limits, his entrance just kissing her tip as it struggled to open up for her. He slowly let himself fall until the pain became too much. His hips rose back up, easing her out a bit before dropping again, gradually impaling himself on her length. His gasps and grunts were music to her ears.

"That's it, baby, just breathe. Let yourself stretch for me. You feel so good."

His tight, hot tunnel felt delicious as it enveloped more and more of her shaft. Having him control the penetration had a different vibe. Rather than her violating and claiming him, it felt more like he was wrapping himself around her, like the wettest tightest hug she'd ever been given.

To top it off, it was obvious he was enjoying it too. His erection poked her belly as his thighs finally came to rest against her hips. He moaned loudly.

She slid her fingers up into his hair and smiled up at him. "Good boy! You're such a good boy for me."

He looked into her eyes with his mouth open in an extended gasp, clearly distracted by the internal sensations of being stuffed so full. When he spoke, he whimpered, "Please don't... please don't leave me, Romie. I... I couldn't handle it if you left."

She gripped his hair and forced his face down to hers, making him bend further forward, an inch of her dick sliding out of him as he bent down. "I could never leave you, Julian! Never!"