Chapter 2: You Look So Fine (Look So Fine)
On the third day, I was amused to see Rhonda wasn’t alone as she left the house. The second tape had clearly worked—she passionately kissed the lanky fellow before sending him on his way and jumping in the car.
Today she was wearing a tight pair of jean-shorts, and a button-up shirt that only barely buttoned up. She’d gone bra-less, and the shirt was tied up right below her unrestrained tits, showing a generous amount of midriff. The whole outfit was enhanced by the black leather fuck-me boots she was wearing.
“Who’s he?” I asked mischievously as I put the third tape into the car and hit play.
“His name is Phil,” Rhonda said, rolling her eyes. “I met him last night.”
I couldn’t help but sigh—although she was certainly far more pleasant to look at than she had been pre-tapes, Rhonda’s personality was yet to change. She launched into a rant about his (innumerable) shortcomings, and if I hadn’t been driving, I would have shut my eyes and just tried to drown her out.
Fortunately, today’s tape was going to help with that. Day 3—“All women should be subservient.”
As much as I could, I kept an eye on Rhonda to see if the tape would have any immediate effects. By the end of the trip, her rant had started to slow down…but it was impossible to tell if that was because of the subliminal messaging, or just because she’d run out of steam.
I did notice that she was continuing to glance at my pants every few sentences. Apparently yesterday’s tape had really left its mark (and today’s was helping to reinforce the message) and whatever her and Phil had gotten up to last night hadn’t been enough to satiate her cravings.
Unfortunately for Rhonda, I’m a happily married man, and so I ignored the subtle signals she was sending out, and just focused on surviving the rest of the trip to work.
As we got in, I paused the tape, and realized tape #2 wasn’t anywhere to be seen—my wife must have nabbed it.
I was a bit annoyed that she’d taken it without permission, but then a smile crossed my face.
So my wife is going to be craving my cum? I can think of worse things that could happen…
The previous night, my girls had returned from their shopping trip, humming the incredibly catchy song from the first tape. I couldn’t help but admire their choice of clothes—my wife had decided to go in a sort of sexy housewife direction, and was wearing a red polka-dot dress that ended way above her knees, and showed off plenty of cleavage to boot. When she bent over, one would expect it to show off her panties—but to my delight, she wasn’t wearing any.
My daughters, bless them, had taken a much less subtle route. Being teenagers, I suppose they don’t really need to worry so much about what other people will think. My youngest was wearing a short pink flippy skirt, and as she bounced into the room it quickly revealed the black thong she was wearing underneath. Her tits were prominently on display in a pink mesh top, which she wore with nothing underneath. Her nipples were also pink, so it made them a little bit harder to find, but after a few seconds of staring I was able to locate them pretty quickly.
But my other daughter’s outfit really took the cake—she was just wearing a blue bikini top (one that looked like it was half a size too small) and matching blue panties. She was almost scandalously underdressed; the only saving grace were the black fishnet stockings she wore, ensuring that the entire outfit looked deliberate (and not like she’d been locked out of her closet while still getting dressed).
I thought they all looked great, and as we ate dinner that night, my wife and I beamed with pride at the two little gems we’d raised. I wondered if they had boyfriends—I knew what young women were like, and I wanted to make sure my baby girls were being taken care of.
Of course, I reflected, dressed like this, it won’t take them long to find what they need.
The afternoon of the third day, Rhonda wasn’t at our regular meeting place. I waited for a few minutes, listening to the irresistible tunes of tape #3, but after a while I got out and stormed to her office.
“Hello?”
She was panting when she answered the door. She didn’t invite me in, just opened it a crack, and I immediately worked out what was happening.
“Get dressed,” I said through gritted teeth. “And meet me in my car in two minutes.”
“Of course,” she said, wide-eyed. I didn’t even care what I had interrupted—I’d made a deal with Rhonda, and I was suddenly furious that she’d defied me. Here I was, doing her a favor—did she not know her place?
Just moments after I’d returned to my car, Rhonda opened the door and practically leapt into the passenger seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to make eye-contact. I softened slightly, and reached out to pat her hair comfortingly. “I was…dealing with a subordinate.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just…don’t let it happen again, yeah?”
“Of course,” she said, and for the rest of the trip, neither of us said another word, just enjoyed the rhythmic sound of the third tape.
When I arrived home after dropping Rhonda off, my wife practically jumped me at the door.
“Come here, stud,” she said with a grin, and at the sight of the outfit she was wearing—a black, translucent night-gown…with nothing underneath—I was immediately hard.
“Hey girls,” I said casually as we passed the living-room. They casually waved as I dragged my almost-naked wife to the bedroom, and proceeded to give her what I knew she so desperately craved—what all women so desperately craved.
It was different than usual. I don’t want to go into too much detail—a man’s bedroom life is private, after all—but I think my wife was surprised by the extent with which I took charge. I twisted her into any position I felt like, and the few times she tried to get on top or decide what to do next, I slapped her hands away, and covered her mouth with my hand when she tried to object.
“Please,” she begged, when I was starting to approach orgasm. “I want it on my face.”
I considered denying her (just to emphasize that it wasn’t her decision to make) but I didn’t want to be cruel, and so I pulled out and aimed for her mouth. A look of bliss came across her as I sprayed my seed into her open mouth and exposed tits.
I love my wife: we have such an amazing connection. After I was done, I held her close for a few minutes, before slapping her on the ass and telling her to go make sure dinner was ready.
After a brief nap (what can I say? I’m not the young man I used to be) I redressed and wandered into the kitchen. My wife had rounded up our daughters to help her with the meal, and they were listening to what I quickly recognized as the second tape. The three of them were wearing aprons, heels, and nothing else.
My youngest daughter blushed slightly when she noticed me checking out her pert backside, but she didn’t say anything. I’d raised such good kids.
The next morning, as I went to change the tapes over, I noticed that tape 3 was still in the machine. I stared at it for a few seconds.
On one hand, I’d bought the tapes for a very specific reason: to help Rhonda. My wife listening to the first two had been an added bonus. But…
It was surprisingly easy to justify to myself. After all, she’d listen to it eventually (the tunes were genuinely phenomenal). And I had to be honest, I couldn’t help but be tempted by the idea of my wife being a trifle more subservient. It just seemed so…right.
What could happen?
Returning to the car, I started playing the fourth tape, a broad smile on my face as I listened to the catchy beats. When I arrived at Rhonda’s house, I was delighted to see that she was waiting on the curb, and from the way she was shivering, it looked like she’d been waiting for a while.
She’d clearly taken yesterday’s lecture to heart.
Her outfit today had a strong secretary theme; she was wearing black glasses, a pencil skirt that barely covered the cheeks of her ass, a black top that managed to show both the top and bottom of her boobs, and—to top it all off—a white, stand-alone shirt collar with a tiny black tie.
As she got in the car, I couldn’t resist asking if anyone at work had said anything about it yet.
“Yes,” she mumbled submissively, apparently unable to make eye-contact. “My boss came to talk to me about it yesterday. I had a one-one-one meeting with him at lunch though, and…
“I think we came to an agreement.”
Over the years, I’d met Rhonda’s boss a few times. Nick, I think his name was—he’d always seemed like a nice enough sort. Maybe once I’d finished running the tapes on Rhonda, he’d be a suitable new master…
The rest of the trip was spent in silence. I turned the heater on, and Rhonda quickly stopped shivering. As the pulsating music seeped into her brain, I noticed her hands would occasionally twitch, like she just wanted to reach out and grab my cock, milk it of the cum within.
Even as we drove, I couldn’t help but pity her. I had hoped that the tapes would make her happier—after all, they were designed to unlock her natural impulses. Dressing like a slut, craving cum, being more subservient—these are all the way women should be. All I was doing was coaxing her into correct behavior.
Having a master was the only one that wasn’t already a natural part of the female condition, but I found it so hot (and figured it would help with the first four) that I didn’t really have an issue with it.
I’d been hoping that by helping her reconnect with her true self, I’d see an improvement in her attitude. Nope. She wasn’t vocalizing her issues any more (thank God) but she was certainly still looking just as miserable as ever.
Still, ending the program now could be disastrous—it would leave her adrift, a subservient whore who craved cum…without anyone to look after her. Better to complete the tapes and hope that the final one—giving her a need for a master—gave her the life satisfaction she so clearly needed.
“Thanks,” she muttered breathily when we arrived at work. “If…if there’s ever anything I can do to thank you, then please…just…let me know, okay?”
As she spoke, one hand reached out and slowly started traveling up my leg. I just stared at her, slightly shocked.
“Uh, thanks, but…I think I’m good. Thanks, though.”
With a sad look, she left, giving me a great view of her ass as she slinked away in the pencil skirt.
It was obvious what had happened: the fourth tape had told her that all women should be whores, and she’d taken it literally. Rhonda had decided that she needed to trade sex for the lift I gave her each morning.
She’d flagrantly offered me sex. She was probably inside right now, justifying fucking all of her superiors—after all, they were responsible for paying her. It made sense that they should at least get a piece of her ass out of the deal.
That made sense, and wasn’t the part that worried me.
What really worried me was how tempted I’d been to accept.
Better make sure the family never hear that tape, I told myself as I drove the extra distance to my own office. The last thing I want is to be the head of a family of whores.
Isn’t it?
No comments:
Post a Comment