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FemDom Marriage – Source For Husband Training

Husband Training For Her Happiness, Control and Pleasure

FemDom Marriage – Commitment

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The blush is gone…

“Take that off,” she said, as she passed the bathroom door and continued down the hall.

He had just stepped out of the shower, and looked down at his chastity device. “Take THIS off?” he said loudly.

No response.

He started down the hall towards the bedroom where she was selecting her clothes.

“Take THIS off?” he said as he stood in the doorway, slightly smiling. “Now?”

“I said take it off.” She was not smiling as she cinched her housecoat. “And, no, you’re not getting lucky this morning. But it IS your lucky day. You can beat off anytime you want, now. We’re done with this.”

“What?”

FemDom - His commitment

“Take that off.”

“You have the key.”

“You know where the key is. Take it off. And you can leave it off.”

“What’s wrong?”

She slammed her lingerie drawer closed, and brusquely pushed past him, turning away as she went between him and the door jam. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. He heard her hair dryer start.

He pulled the key from her lingerie drawer and unlocked the chastity device. It felt kind of good to be loose and free. But something was up, and he knew he would find out soon. He began getting dressed.

Finally the hair dryer stopped. She came out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He stood up.

“Clean that thing and put it away,” she said pointing to the chastity device.

“Yes, ma`am.” He took it into the bathroom and washed and dried it, and left it laying on the towel on the vanity. He turned to leave the bathroom, and she was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“I said put it away. Can you do that? Is that really where it belongs?”

“No! Yes!” He was flustered. “I can do that, yes.”

He took the device into the bedroom and placed it in the corner of her lingerie drawer.

Turning to leave, he almost ran into her, standing behind him, arms crossed, eyes burning.

“In the kitchen. Now!” and she walked away.

“Yes, ma`am,” he said, following her down the hall.

As he stood silently, she rinsed her coffee cup and refilled it, topping it off with cream. Then she turned and leaned against the counter, slowly stirring. She put down the cup, rinsed the spoon and put it into the drainer.

Turning back around, she leaned again, took a sip of coffee and with a dart of eyes at the sink, said, “What’s that?”

“Those are dishes.”

“Those are dirty dishes, aren’t they?”

“Yes, ma`am.”

“How long have they been dirty?”

He didn’t respond. His mind was racing.

“HOW LONG?” she shouted.

“A couple of days,” he instantly blurted out.

“Today is Saturday. There are plates left from Italian we had on Tuesday night! A COUPLE of days? What the fuck?”

His face flushed and his pulse was pounding.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes burned a hole right through him.

“I’ll…”

She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to the floor for a couple of seconds.

Laying her cup down, she motioned for him to follow her and went back down the hall to the bedroom. She opened the closet door and turned on the light.

“And what the fuck is THIS?” she said, leaning against the open door.

“I should not have to beat your ass to get you to WANT to please me.”

There were clothes in messy layers on the floor.

He leaned in the doorway to the closet. “That…is…laundry.”

“Is it clean or dirty?”

“That … would be … dirty. Most likely.”

“‘Most likely’ he says,” she said almost under her breath.

“And what is that in the corner?” she said, pointing to a clothes hamper.

“That’s the clothes hamper.”

“Is it a ‘DIRTY’ clothes hamper? Is there anything in the ‘DIRTY’ clothes hamper?”

He walked over and lifted the cover. “No.”

She turned and was out the bedroom door on the way down the hall.

“I will take …”

“COME!” she ordered, waiving her hand above her.

He followed her to the laundry room.

She opened the door, and turned on the light.

“And, mister ‘Maintain Domestic Bliss’, exactly what the fuck is THIS?”

His face was on fire and his vision seemed to be getting narrow. He looked into the room. It was in complete disarray. He stepped back slightly into the hall. There was a pause. She tapped her fingernails on the laundry room door.

“That’s also laundry. Most of it is clean. I will fold it and clean all of this up.”

“Oh, you will?”

“Yes, ma`am, I will.”

“Welllll, don’t you worry about it honey bunch. You and your 10. You’re good with that male attribute thing. That much is for sure. But my ‘domestic bliss’ obviously ain’t your thing. But, you know what? I can hire someone to come in and take care of the house. And you, mister so-called ‘submissive husband’ can be free to watch football and whack off and play around and do whatever the fuck you do that keeps you so busy.”

There was a long pause as she stared furiously into his eyes. He blinked repeatedly, trying to figure out what to say.

“I can…”

“I know! I know! You can…but you don’t, and you won’t.”

His eyes dropped to the floor.

After another pause, “OH! WAIT! Now I remember… in your FemDom fantasy world, you should probably be spanked for this, right? Or maybe whipped?”

He couldn’t look up.

“Well, you know what? That’s not happening. That is a bunch of bullshit! You say I am your queen, but leave all this shit undone all over the place…and I, your [airquotes] queen, have to expend my emotion and my energy dealing with that… AND also discipline you? Does that sound right to you?”

No response.

“Tell me…”

“No, it’s not right.”

“I don’t need this. I should not have to beat your ass to get you to WANT to please me. We’re done with this. You got that?”

“I will…”

“No, you won’t! Here’s what is happening: We tried this. We’re back to where we were, sharing the housework. I have a financial framework that you’ll have to learn to work within, but you can figure that out. And you’re free from any of your FemDom fantasies of ‘belonging’ to me, or being my ‘property’.

Another long searing pause.

She motioned him to get out of the way, turned out the light and closed the door.

She stopped and took a step back towards him. Her eyes were still flaming. “You don’t bring my coffee in the morning.”

He was devastated. And speechless.

After a couple of seconds she slightly cocked her head. “Do you understand me?”

She arched her eyebrows, waiting for his response.

“Ok.”

“And now, … I am getting dressed and going out for awhile,” she said walking toward the bedroom.

When she came back through the kitchen on the way to the garage, he was still standing outside the laundry room, looking glum and staring at the floor.

“Oh, honey…what’s wrong? You’re free? I’m out of the house awhile? What’s there to be upset about? You have the house to yourself, all the remotes, and the TV and your golf clubs and computer games, and [leaning into him and lightly elbowing him, arching her eyebrows up and down] all … of … that … coconut oil. Knock yourself out!”

She reached up and lightly pecked him on the cheek.

“This’ll work out better, probably.” She picked up her purse and keys. “I’ll find someone to clean the house starting next week.”

“Bye.”

And she was out the door and gone.

~~To Be Continued~~

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