Sometimes writing is about having a great idea then spending ages writing, rewriting and editing until it can work as a story. At other times it’s just about vomiting an idea onto a page and hoping that people like it. If you’d like the former, check out some other erotic fiction here. If you’re happy with the latter, here’s a story I wrote this week.
Content note: this fiction plays with the idea of non-consent/reluctance, so if that’s not your cup of tea please don’t read on.
Obedience and power
Two men make a bet about which of their wives is the most obedient. Over a long dinner together, the two couples have been discussing obedience and submission, and what the words mean to each of them. When the women retire to a different room, the two men continue debating the topic. The first man is convinced that his wife will be more obedient than his friend’s.
“She does anything I tell her to do,” he explains. “And never a word of complaint.”
The second man agrees, but points out that during dinner his own wife had done everything asked of her. What makes the first man think his own wife is more compliant?
They decide to put their wives’ obedience to the test. Each woman will be called, in turn, and ordered to perform a series of tasks as specified by her husband. The one who completes the tasks most swiftly and thoroughly will be declared the winner.
Having settled on the rules, each man opens his wallet and lays a hundred pounds on the coffee table between them.
Their partners are called in one by one.
The first guy’s wife comes in. Shuffling her feet at the door, she looks at her husband with curiosity and – perhaps – a hint of trepidation. Full of bluster, her husband immediately orders her to strip.
“Good girl,” he smirks, thinking he has this in the bag.
Trembling slightly, and now in just her underwear, she asks what he’d like her to do next. He orders her to her knees, makes her crawl across the floor towards them both.
“Pour us a drink,” he tells her, and she does. Her lace-clad bottom displayed to them both as she kneels in between the pair. The bottle clinks against the glasses as she pours, and when each has been given a generous measure, she puts the bottle down and smiles at each of them from her kneeling position on the floor.
“Now touch me,” the first guy orders, uncrossing his arms and holding them open to encourage her to come towards him. His wife pauses briefly, then obeys – leaning forward to run her hands over her husband’s chest and legs. Feeling the twitch of his arousal as she brushes against his cock.
The second guy watches with admiration as she strokes and caresses her husband.
Her husband, meanwhile, is growing more confident. Gaining momentum.
“Kiss him,” he says, pointing at his opponent. And she does: a soft, quick peck on the lips. As she draws away, the second guy notices that her hands are shaking. He makes eye contact with her – holding her gaze firmly in his and raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘is this OK? Are you OK?’
She gives him a wobbly smile.
Her husband, sloshing back his glass of whisky, grows bolder.
“Touch my dick,” he orders, with the same brash rudeness with which he’d dismiss a waiter. “Take my dick out and give me a hand job. Right here.”
She giggles, as if he’s joking.
Her movements are more tentative, now. To the second guy, it’s clear that just by watching her, he’s making this thing she’s done a thousand times before seem much more difficult. So much more intense. He’s beginning to feel like a voyeur. His pulse thuds, pumping blood towards his cock, and he realises to his shame and delight that he’s harder than he’s ever been before.
Meanwhile, the first woman unzips her husband’s fly and – keeping her eyes downturned – starts to slowly jerk him off.
“Look at me,” her husband orders her. “Look me in the eye as you rub my dick.”
She continues, albeit more slowly. As her husband grows bolder, she visibly shrinks – hunching her shoulders and closing her legs and almost curling up as if she wants the ground to swallow her.
When he orders her to take his cock in her mouth, she backs off. Tells him ‘no.’
“Are you disobeying me?” he asks, a bolt of steel running through the playfulness of his tone.
“Yes,” she tells him and “I’m sorry.”
There’s a moment – just a teeny tiny one – when her husband’s face gives away his disappointment. His confident smile cracks and through the crack she sees confusion, frustration, even anger.
But then he kisses her on the forehead, calls her a ‘good girl’, and dismisses her. When they’ve both watched her scamper out of the door, he turns to his friend.
The second man takes a slow sip from his glass of whisky and looks steadily at his opponent.
Now recovered from his embarrassment at hearing a ‘no’, the first guy has regained his composure. Perhaps his wife didn’t do all he wanted, but Christ his cock is so hard as he remembers what he managed to get her to do. So he decides she did enough. She’s compliant – even through nerves and hesitation she was pleased to do his bidding. He puffs out his chest, confident in his win.
“Think your wife can beat that?” he asks the second man, who simply shrugs.
Then calls his wife inside.
The second wife pauses at the doorway, slouching insolently against the frame and looking at her husband with eyes filled with challenge. Though she raises an eyebrow at the sight of the first man’s prick sticking fully-erect from the front of his trousers, she utters not a single word of question or complaint.
Just that casual, disrespectful smile.
The silence hangs heavy between the three of them, all waiting on the second guy’s command.
Eventually he turns to his wife, points at the first guy, and utters just two words:
And she does.
Three confident strides across the room, a brief pause while she yanks her knickers to one side, and there she is: sliding wetly down his fat cock so hard that his eyes bulge.
As she fucks him – brutally, harshly, efficiently – he gasps in shock. Then starts thrusting back eagerly – grunting at the effort and the pleasure of having his eager prick buried in her cunt.
She fucks him emotionlessly. Coldly. Relentlessly. Until the veins on the side of his thick neck start to protrude, and he’s panting and grunting and moaning in a rising crescendo, as if he’s about to come.
Harder and faster, her tits bouncing five inches from his face, the second guy’s wife rides him like she might die for lack of dick. The sound of the smack of her arse on his upper thighs makes her husband grab his own cock, sliding down in his chair so he can get a better look at the way her juices slick the first man’s shaft.
She rubs her clit until she brings herself to a swift, efficient orgasm. Her husband feels his dick twitch and his gut twist in response, knowing that when he takes her home, he’ll revel in how wet she is at the things he’s made her do.
As she comes, she stays silent: the only sign that she’s made it is how hard she grips the first man’s body with her thighs and his cock with her cunt – so tight that he feels like he’s going to explode.
Then – and only then – does his opponent order:
She stops. Pausing in mid-stroke with his dick halfway inside her, she stops dead. Slides off him and off the chair, takes a step back, then retreats to stand next to her husband.
The first guy splutters and shakes his head, almost shaking with rage and frustration. As he fumbles his aching cock back into his trousers, he blusters:
“That’s not fair! You cheated!”
The second guy shakes his head.
“Well, how did you know she’d obey you so readily?”
“You have a lot to learn about obedience,” explains the second man, who had never really believed he could lose this game. “If you really want someone to obey you, you first need to understand what orders they want you to give.”
He looks with pride at his wife – his wife who, earlier, had told him how much she wanted to fuck the first man, and how much she’d wanted to teach him a lesson. His wife who had spent the last week telling him – with surprising force – how she’d taken against him for the way he treated his own wife.
He reaches for the money on the table, and is about to scoop his winnings when his wife puts a gentle, restraining hand on his arm.
She calls the first woman back in, reaches for the whisky bottle, and pours a glass for them both.
When the first woman returns, now fully-clothed, she no longer looks nervous. Instead of trembling, she giggles as she surveys the scene: how angry and disappointed her husband looks, how hard the second guy is. The looks of confusion on both of their faces.
The table of twenty pound notes.
She grabs the offered drink and downs it in one, before reaching for the money.
“The lesson,” she explains, carefully counting out half the cash, “is that if you truly want to test your power, you shouldn’t let your subjects know they’re being tested.”
As she hands the second woman her equal share of the money, she leans in close and whispers:
“Who’d have thought? They’re exactly as predictable as each other.”