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A cheating wife story.

As though you were equals! And when I first tried to push you aside, you simply ignored me. You were riding high while I floundered in your wake."

"Tim, when did this hate become something different?"

"I started to admire your will, your strength, your intellect. I was still calling you bad names under my breath, but I also thought... well, it's hard to say it."

"I insist that you do. Proceed."

"I began to fantasize about the two of us being at the office late - just the two of us, and you would be standing at your desk going over figures. I, for my part, would quietly fall to my knees behind you and give your ass a soft kiss. It thrilled me to think of it! Finally, I could let my weak, trembling self come out and just be!"

"That's a lovely story, Tim! Kissing my bum! How sweet!" she said, and rose from her chair.

"Look at me, Tim." she directed, and I raised my eyes. There she stood, legs apart in a strong stance. I looked adoringly at her body.

"It makes sense, you know, you're being an asskisser. I sensed it all along." she said, walking around me. "I could feel your eyes on me. You weren't very good at hiding it."

she said, laughing.

"I thought about giving you a lobster bib anonymously for Valentine's Day so that you wouldn't drool on yourself!"

"I certainly would prize such a gift, Ma'am!" I said, excited by the image of wearing it.

"Well, you're in luck." she replied, then went to her dresser.

"Here you are, little Timmy. I'll put it on for you."

Ms Jenna approached, and unfurled the plastic bib. I looked down and saw the red image of a lobster displayed on my chest as I felt Mistress's fingers knot a bow at the back of my neck.

"Well, we know where to start then, don't we?" she said, a tone of mischief in her voice.

Ms Jenna stood two feet before me, turned her back, and displayed her gorgeous ass. My penis was jerking excitedly as I beheld the smooth and ample flesh.

"Now, let's not forget, my boy. You are here to worship. You obviously feel lustful desire, based on the angle of your ridiculous little organ. But you are here to show respect. Understood?" she queried, looking over her shoulder at me.

"Absolutely, Ma'am."

"So, then, what words of praise or respect do you have to offer my beautiful ass, Tim?" Mistress said, running her fingers lightly over her cheeks.

"I wish always to be behind it, to be able to look upon it."

"Really? Do you mean like looking at a television?" Ms Jenna shot back, giving me a glaring look.

"Oh, no! No! to revere it!"

"All right. Then tell me, what is it that you bow to? Explain your feelings behind this." she insisted.

"For me, the image of a strong woman's ass symbolizes Female power; the power of women over men. Ms Jenna, there are millions of weak, pretentious men out there who would secretly be very content to serve and attend to a capable woman, and in any way she chooses. The payoff for the weakling is that he can hide in her formidable shadow. This is what he desperately needs. So, you see, there is both a need a need for us, and a need in us."

"Yes, I suppose." she said, uncertainly. "Bring your leash."

I proceeded to go, on my knees, to where my leash and collar were, beside Mistress's bed. I returned with them in my teeth, and dropped them softly on the floor before Ms Jenna.

"Well, put it on, jackass."

"Sorry, Mistress. I...I...wasn't..."

"That's right. you weren't. Now, move it, dumb-ass. Jesus Christ."

I secured the leather collar and, when I drew nearer, Mistress stood over me and attached the leash. I began to frisk about from excitement, but Ms Jenna pulled up hard on the leash.

"Be still and prepare to worship."

With these words, Mistress turned her back to me, and I found myself staring at her wonderful ass.

"Little doggies are always sniffing other dogs' assholes. Have you noticed that, Tim?"

"I have, Ma'am. I'm a little doggie, too!"

Ms Jenna shifted her weight, and I watched mesmerized as the smooth, soft flesh of her buttocks moved languidly before me.

"However, not every dog gets to sniff my anus, Tim.

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