Rochelle and I had been married all of three days, married on Friday afternoon and then spending Saturday and Sunday in Manhattan at The Plaza, eating at the best restaurants and seeing two outstanding Broadway shows in the evenings. I would have liked to take more time off for a proper honeymoon, but we had gotten married more quickly—her idea—than I had planned and I had two surgeries planned that could not be postponed. Both were heart transplants and neither patient could be expected to live more than a month without the life-saving procedures.
We had returned to my home in Sands Point, one of Nassau County’s more exclusive communities. By exclusive in Long Island I really mean expensive. My home cost somewhat more than a million dollars which I think was about average for the community. Most of my neighbors with children send their kids to the Great Neck public schools, reputedly as good as or better than the most exclusive private school and probably just as expensive judging from my property taxes.
I had carried our suitcases into the bedroom and was a bit surprised when Rochelle had told me that she was going to relax in the living room and would I mind unpacking her bag. I admit to being a bit surprised, but I recall thinking at the time that perhaps her stomach was acting up or maybe she was getting her period. Either way it wasn’t that big a deal so I did it willingly, joining her about half an hour later.
I was about to join her on the couch when she told me she needed to speak with me although her actual words were “speak to me.” I understood why a few minutes later when she told me to sit on the floor between her legs.
“Living here with you these past five months has been a real learning experience for me, Michael. Do you recall about five weeks ago when school was closed because of a big snowstorm? You had to go to the hospital, but I was here all day alone.” I thought for a moment before I did remember. I tend to push little things like that out of my head because I have so many really important things to think of, like the tiniest details of a surgery. Contrary to popular opinion, no two surgeries are alike because no two patients are exactly alike—similar, maybe, but never identical. Those small differences can make a huge difference in how the actual surgery is conducted.
“I was bored so I sat at your computer and I went online. My goodness, the things I found there in your history. You really should have cleaned it out once in a while. Site after site dealt with subjects like female domination, male slavery, cuckolding, and chastity. At first, I was repulsed by the thought of you being involved in those activities so I phoned Arianne. You know that she is my best friend. We talked about my discoveries for more than an hour and we decided to get together at her house Saturday morning for more discussion. We both did a lot of research on those subjects during the week.
We both came up with the same conclusion--that I could make this work to my benefit.”
I sat there silently--interested in where she thought she was going to take it. I looked down, not because I was ashamed or embarrassed, but because I didn’t want her to see the expressions on my face. I’ve been told that I am the world’s worst poker player because my face shows my emotions entirely too clearly. That’s also the reason why I never lie. I know I can’t pull it off.
“Anyway, Michael, that’s when I decided to go with the flow. It’s completely clear that you feel women are the superior sex and I agree completely with that concept. It’s also clear that you believe that you are inferior to women, especially me. That’s why our marriage and our relationship is going to turn in a certain direction—my direction. You are going to realize your dreams of total submission. I am taking over and you are going to do precisely as you are told. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m sure I will have to especially while I am training you in your new role as my slave.
“I have enjoyed making love with you, but that’s going to be strictly rationed from now on. You expressed an interest in chastity and that’s what you are going to get. You go to bed early and you sleep soundly so I have been able to measure your penis several times for a custom cock cage that I will put on you in a little while. I’m sure you’ll find it quite tight and impossible to get an erection without feeling a lot of pain. I believe it will be perfect for me—the perfect way to ensure your complete submission to my will. You will have to learn to satisfy me with your tongue on those evenings I’m not out with my lover.” Now I was glad I was looking down. Had I been looking up at Rochelle she would certainly have seen the expressions of shock and disgust on my face.
“We just got married Rochelle, and now you want someone else.”
She laughed. “I’ve always wanted someone else. I’ve been cheating on you throughout our entire relationship. I tried to hide it, but that’s no longer necessary. You’ve been my cuckold, a role you’ll come to love in the future. Initially, you’ll just help to prepare me for my dates with Jonathan.”
“Your principal? You mean you’ve been fucking your principal all this time? Isn’t he married?”
“Yes, and yes; he and I have been “fucking” as you so bluntly put it for almost a year. We used to do it in his office after everyone else was gone. All of those evening meetings I had to attend he was doing me in the nurse’s office. Now you know that you’ve been my cuckold all that time, but from now on you’ll have an active role as my cuckold. I’ll expect you to eat me out after my dates with Jonathan and once you’ve cleaned my puss out completely, you’ll be required to eat me to a few more orgasms. I won’t forget about your needs, but they won’t be addressed very often—maybe once every two or three weeks, but only if you are completely obedient. If you’re not, well…use your imagination.
“Oh, yeah—there will be a few rules for you while you are at home. No clothes, even outside. Our lawn is shielded from the neighbors by row after row of pine trees so you won’t be seen. Even though we have a housekeeper, you’ll assist her with some of the more odious tasks like cleaning the toilets. Don’t worry--I won’t take any chances on damaging your hands. I’m not about to cripple my meal ticket. That’s the main reason why I married you. You can start by getting naked right now. Take off your clothes and pile them neatly under the table.”
So far I had found this “conversation” to be extremely enlightening so I stood, removed my shirt, opened my belt and dropped my slacks to the floor, my boxers following only a few seconds later. I’m usually extremely neat in my habits so I folded my slacks and placed them on top of my loafers with my belt and phone on top. I finished by placing my socks into my shoes then I stood naked before the woman I had sworn to love for better or worse just three days ago.
“Step closer, Michael.” She dug through her purse, pulling a lipstick from the bag. Opening the case, she pulled me closer by my cock which should have told her of my feelings. I was as flaccid as I’ve ever been. She drew a line horizontally about two inches below my navel and two more—one on each thigh—about six inches below my crotch. “Go into the bathroom and shower. While you’re in there I want you to shave everything between these lines—front and back. Come back here when you are done and I’ll attach your cock cage to your body. Your chastity begins now and don’t get any ideas of rubbing a quick one off in the shower. I plan on paddling you when you get back and it’ll be a lot worse if I find your balls empty. Now go and I expect you to hurry.”
“Shall I take my clothes and put them away…Ma’am.”
“Yes, and it’s a good thing that you were respectful. I will definitely punish you from now on if you forget.” I picked my clothes and shoes up from the floor and trotted down the hallway toward the bedroom.
I was extremely busy for almost an hour, but when I was done, I was more than satisfied with my efforts. I strolled casually back to my bride. “What the fuck? Why are you dressed? Oh, you are going to get it and good.”
“I don’t think so, Rochelle. You really should have discussed what you found on the computer with me instead of that idiotic slut, Arianne. How many times has she been divorced? I can never remember. Is it two or three? She’s hardly a responsible resource for relationship advice. Had you mentioned what you had found to me I would have explained why I read those stories. The best fiction closely mimics real life so I know that there are real men, if I can even call them that, who live as slaves to their wives and are their cuckolds. I could not believe that any man could be so weak and so pathetic as to accept that from someone who is supposed to be their loving spouse. I find that kind of man disgusting and repulsive and I would never ever consider that kind of life for myself.
“You didn’t notice my new phone on my belt, did you? I was playing around with it in the bedroom once I had the bags unpacked. I was trying out the recording feature. The first part of your diatribe is on video, the rest—the part that came after I removed my clothes—is just the audio, but you came through loud and clear. I’ve already sent that to my attorney, Rob Snyder, who advises me that I have excellent grounds for an annulment. If I divorced you, I’d have to split everything we own 50-50, but under an annulment I’d owe you nothing. All of your clothes and personal property are in your car. I have to admit that I wasn’t too careful doing it since I was in a genuine rush to be rid of you. I suggest you leave now and Rob will be in touch. He also plans to contact the Board of Education. He’s sure they’ll be very interested in your relationship with your principal. Don’t be at all surprised if both of you are fired. I may even sue the school district. Rob tells me that they have very strict policies about sexual relationships between a supervisor and a staff member.
“But before you go….” I picked up her purse and pulled her wallet and keys from its gaping maw. I had never seen any woman carry so much in such a huge purse. I removed her credit cards and her keys to the house. The cards were all on my accounts so I had every right to them. “I have already removed your garage door remote, Rochelle. Maybe you can stay with Arianne. You’ll be perfect roommates. “You’re both idiotic losers. Now go and don’t come back.” I helped the shocked woman--the one I had hoped would be my partner through life--and led her to the garage. I opened the door for her and helped her into the car. She had driven the same beat up old Honda Civic ever since we had met more than two years ago. I had planned on buying her a new Lexus convertible as a wedding gift, but not now—not ever.
I stood there in silence as she slowly backed out of the garage and drove away. Now would come the really hard part—notifying my mother and sister. They had both loved Rochelle, but apparently, like me, they had never really known her. After closing the garage door, I walked back into the kitchen where I pulled a Corona from the refrigerator and reached for the phone.
There wasn’t enough beer in the world to help me through the next half hour. Yet it had to be done and there was nothing to be gained by waiting. I would have liked to get roaring drunk, but I had two patients’ lives in my hands over the next three days. My sorrow and my tears would have to wait.
>>>>>>
I always go to bed early—by 9:00. Why? Because I also have to get up early—at 4:30--for my drive to Long Island Jewish Hospital in nearby Forest Hills, Queens. It’s a relatively easy commute, especially at 5:00 in the morning. I always stop at the same deli in Forest Hills because they make a big cup of fresh orange juice along with a buttered roll for me every morning. I’ve known the owner Jacob for more than ten years.
A word about LIJ as the hospital is often known—one does not have to be Jewish to work there or to be treated. I was raised as a Catholic and, although there are a number of Jewish physicians on staff, the same can be said for virtually every hospital in the New York City metro area.
Heart replacement surgery takes a long time, starting with connecting the patient to the heart-lung machine, so I always start at 6:00 a.m. I’m well rested and I never drink coffee which can affect my hand-eye coordination. I’m 39 now and I’ve been doing this surgery for more than ten years. I stopped drinking coffee while in medical school when I saw my hand shaking from the caffeine. I still remember the day I made that decision. Later that morning once the caffeine had been passed from my body my hand was as steady as a rock. Like most caffeine junkies I went through withdrawal, but I never drank a drop again.
I was in the prep room scrubbing down, having already changed from what I usually referred to as my “civilian clothes,” into my scrubs and what I laughingly referred to as my “do-rag.” Most surgeons wear some kind of cap to keep stray hairs away from an incision. That was also why I was always clean shaven. There was a new nurse on the team this morning. I usually liked to work with the same nurses because we were like a team in football or basketball. The more we practiced together the better we would become.
I was about to speak with her when my “Number 2”—Dan Morrison—joined me at the sink. We washed and scrubbed our hands and fingernails just the way we had when we were classmates in medical school at Johns Hopkins. I always knew that I could depend on Dan to keep the mood light before surgery and to be completely competent and professional during. “So, Mike—how’s married life treating you?”
“Not well, Dan; I’m getting an annulment. We returned to the house yesterday afternoon and she pulled some shit about making me her chastised slave complete with a tight stainless steel cock cage. She found some stuff I was reading online and drew the wrong conclusions. Rather than talk it over with me she went to her friend Arianne.”
“Isn’t that the one you’ve always said was a big slut?”
“Yeah, she’s been divorced at least twice and both times it was because she was cheating. Even better, Rochelle told me that she’s been fucking her principal for close to a year.”
“Too bad you don’t have a recording of that.” Dan stopped then and looked at the big grin on my face. “Oh, dear God—you do have it recorded. No wonder you’re considering annulment.”
“I’m not considering, Dan. I phoned my attorney Rob Snyder yesterday afternoon and sent the recording—part of it is video—and he told me he’d start on it this morning. I kicked her out and suggested she stay with her slut buddy.”
“Too bad, Mike—I liked Rochelle…nice body, too.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss that, but like the saying goes—it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Know anything about the new nurse?”
“Only what I’ve been told; Mannheim had her last week and told me she was really sharp. Apparently, she was able to anticipate almost everything he did. It was only a hip replacement, but still that’s pretty good.”
“I’m going to miss Nan--hopefully not too much. Too bad her husband got transferred. Okay, enough; let’s get the show on the road.” I finished my hands at almost the same time Dan finished his. We dried using the sanitary towels and we allowed the nurses to pull the tunics over our hands. Marcie, my head nurse, checked the cap on my head, pulling it tightly down on my head. We gloved up and I backed through the door to the operating room.
Marv Cohen was already there talking to the patient and keeping him calm even as he prepped the anesthesia. I walked over to the patient and asked,
“How are you this morning, Mr. Jameson, ready to get your new heart?”
“I’m kinda nervous.”
“That’s understandable, but you can relax. We have a great team here for you. I know that Dr. Cohen will be keeping you in tip-top condition the entire time.”
“Any idea how long it will take?”
“Typically, about eight hours, but I had a great night’s sleep and I do this at least twice a month although I have another scheduled for Wednesday. It’s going to be a busy week. Okay, Marv.” I stepped back to allow Marv to render our patient unconscious. That gave me the opportunity to speak to my new nurse.
“Mary Catharine, I believe.”
“Yes, Doctor Bellamy—it’s a real honor to be able to assist you.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you with us. I’ve only heard good things about you. You’ll be replacing Nan. Stay to my left and keep the tray of instruments on your other side. Beth will give you replacements as soon as you give one to me. That’s how we’ve always worked and that’s how we’ve always been successful. Beth will also wipe my brow if necessary. Sarah and Jane will be on the patient’s other side along with Dr. Morrison.”
Then I went into what I always called my surgeon mode. There was only me and the patient. Our non-sterile assistant put the CD of Swan Lake on the player and we began, first by opening the chest, tying off the arteries and veins and connecting them to the heart-lung machine. That took more than an hour although the actual changeover was done in seconds. The team worked well and Mary Catharine fit in well. Dan was right—she had a good sense of anticipation. She had the right implement ready for me even before I called for it. Only three times had I corrected her. The procedure went exactly as I had hoped. I changed into a new clean set of scrubs and went to do my favorite part of this job—notifying the family.
I had a big smile on my face when I entered the waiting room. Not only was Mrs. Jameson there, but both daughters and their husbands and their parish priest who I had known for many years. Mrs. Jameson cried tears of joy when I gave her the news. “It was a complete success. The procedure went exactly as planned. His heart showed signs of extensive damage and the arteries were almost completely blocked which means that he was only a few weeks at most from another major infarction which in his condition would almost certainly have killed him. His new heart is completely healthy and the cardiac arteries are clear. He’ll have a long period of recovery, but if he follows Dr. Wenz’s treatment plan he’ll be fine for many years. Just don’t allow him to smoke—not even a single cigarette.”
“I won’t and God bless you, Dr. Bellamy.” She hugged me then as did each of her daughters. Finally, I turned to the priest.
“Good afternoon, Monsignor; long time no see.”
“Yes, too many weeks since I last saw you. Did I read in the newspaper that you were married last Friday?”
“Yes, you did. Come to my office when you’re done here and I’ll tell you all about it. I shook hands with Msgr. Feigan and left. I was tired. Truth was that the surgery had been one emergency after another. We had a problem with the heart-lung machine and had to switch to the back-up. Then at the end we had trouble getting the new heart started. I’d had to shock it three times before we had a regular sinus rhythm. It was an emotionally draining day.
I typically performed cardiac surgery two or three times a week. More than that became too draining both physically as well as emotionally. My fee for a surgery like the one I performed today would be billed at $80,000, but Medicare would chop it down to about $40,000 so a typical week would earn me about eighty to a hundred thousand dollars. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all profit. I had my share of the rent on our offices and salaries for the staff. I had three partners in addition to Dan and then, of course, was malpractice insurance. For a cardiac surgeon that bill came to more than three hundred thousand dollars a year.
I had been sued twice, but I had won both of those cases. In one the jury found for the plaintiff, but the decision was thrown out by the judge who agreed with my attorney that what I had done was strictly professional and competent. Sometimes people die, although we always use the term “expire.” It is regrettable, but sometimes there are other unforeseen complications. Just last week I had opened the patient’s chest only to close it immediately. He had severe lung cancer—Stage IV in my opinion—and protocol demanded that the heart go to another patient. Telling his family had been hard. I always found those discussions heart wrenching.
I had been in the office that the hospital provided for me about half an hour when Msgr. Feigan walked in. I had first come to know him when I was a mere child. My parents had a bungalow in Shoreham on the North Shore of Long Island dating back to 1948. The closest Catholic Church at the time was about ten miles away in n Wading River, but there was a chapel that was only used for Mass at ten o’clock on Sunday mornings. Father Feigan started saying Mass there when I was twelve. I liked him immediately. He was personable and he was the first priest who led us in singing hymns.
I had watched his career advance as he was assigned to the Little Flower School in Wading River. Little Flower is a residential school for orphans. The kids frequently come from troubled homes—alcoholism, drug abuse, and child abuse were common experiences for many of these kids. I had no experiences like these kids, but Msgr. Feigan had done a good job of explaining them on a series of radio and TV messages. My first year as a surgeon I had donated $1,000 to the school and every year since then I’d given even more—enough that I was asked to join the Board of Directors. I accepted eagerly even though Wading River was almost fifty miles from my home. I always scheduled my day so I could end early when there was a Board meeting.
Msgr. Feigan walked around the desk to hug me. “You’re looking well, Michael. I think married life agrees with you.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong, John. I’ve already started annulment proceedings. Rochelle found some sites I had visited online and drew the wrong conclusions. They were stories about female domination and male slavery. Rather than talk to me about them she spoke to her slut friend who has been divorced at least twice. Bottom line—she wanted me to become her slave, keeping me chaste by virtue of a device that would lock my genitals away, so she could continue her illicit sexual relationship with her principal.
“I was playing with my new phone and recorded our entire conversation—mostly a monolog of her plans to enslave me—and I phoned my attorney. He advised an annulment. There was no way I could live with her under those conditions so I packed all of her clothes and personal effects into her car and threw her out. That was yesterday afternoon. I believe the papers were due to be filed in the court this afternoon.”
“That’s a shame, Michael. I liked Rochelle the one time we met.”
“Yeah, she had a lot of potential, but her best friend is a train wreck when it comes to relationships with men. She has a long history of cheating on boyfriends and husbands—hardly the kind of person I’d want to be my wife’s best friend.”
“You mentioned a sexual relationship with her principal.”
“Yeah, going on almost as long as we were together. According to Rochelle they had sexual relations in his office late in the afternoon and in the evening when she was supposedly attending meetings with parents, they used the nurse’s office. Worse, he is married with two children.”
“Should we talk about Jesus forgiving those who crucified him?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s not a matter of forgiveness, John. It’s a matter of caring. I just don’t care. I can’t afford all of the emotional energy that would be required to hate. I have patients who need me to be at the top of my game. I just picked up another surgery—triple bypass—for Friday so I’ll be extremely busy all week. I was hoping that being married would help me deal with the stress and maybe it will, but not for a while apparently.”
“I really am sorry, Michael. I’ll remember you in my prayers. Are you going to make next week’s board meeting? I hope so because we’ll be talking about the new health center and your input will be important.”
“I already have it in my calendar and I’ve blocked off the day. Any procedures I pick up will have to be on Tuesday or Thursday. Unfortunately, I have more than enough paperwork to handle. I usually take it home, but on Board nights I make time during the day.” Msgr. Feigan rose and walked around the desk. Placing his hand on my head he blessed me just as he had done hundreds of times before. I rose and we hugged then he left. I knew he was a busy man, but to come all the way into Forest Hills from Wading River for an old parishioner was just incredible. On the other hand, that was what made him so special.
Once I had finished the paperwork the hospital and Medicare required from me, I phoned Rob to see how the annulment was progressing. He told me that he would file in the court tomorrow morning and would have Rochelle served later in the day. It was summer so she wouldn’t be working. I gave him Arianne’s address assuming that Rochelle was living there. I couldn’t think of any other place where she would go. Her parents lived more than two hundred miles away and her sister was even farther, besides, I thought she’d want to be near her principal, especially now that she wouldn’t be getting anything from me.
‘What about the principal, Jonathan Perkins, and the school board?”
“They can be served any time you want, but I’m wondering if we shouldn’t give Mrs. Perkins a heads-up about the situation, you know…before the proverbial feces hit the fan.”
That was just like Rob. As long as I had known him—all the way back to our freshman year at Harvard—I’d never heard him swear even once. Me? That was another thing entirely. I had once cursed a nurse for life when she gave me the wrong implement. I mean—how much clearer could the term, “CLAMP” be?
“I think that might be a good idea, Rob. Want me to do it? I can come in late tomorrow morning. I’m pretty sure that he has to work until the end of the month so I could wait down the block until he leaves. I am a vested party in this matter so I think I can talk with her and I can share the video and audio with her, too.”
“Some of that could be a bit embarrassing to you?”
“It could be, but I’m betting she’ll look beyond that. If I can tell a family that their loved one has expired on the table, I think I can do this.” We talked for a few more minutes then I ended the call and left the hospital, but not before passing the invoice information to the clerk in billing. Then it was the short drive to my empty home.
>>>>>>
I was up at my usual time of 4:30 and since I had a lot of time, I drove into Forest Hills to the deli for my orange juice and buttered roll. Jacob and I chatted for a while as he served a few other customers. Then I drove back eastward toward Great Neck where I exited and drove toward the Perkins home. I had been there once before at an end-of-the-year party for the staff. Rochelle had brought me just a few weeks ago, I thought at the time to show me off to her friends. I made a u-turn past the house and parked about fifty yards away facing the driveway.
I relaxed and took out my copy of the New York Times and began to read through. I usually spent about ten minutes skimming through the articles, but today I knew that I had an hour or more. Thus, I was surprised when I saw Perkins run from the house with a distressed look on his face. I had a revelation then; Rochelle had sent him a text to tell him that I knew. It was only a matter of time before he was exposed. Actually, it was going to be a lot less time than he thought.
He was speeding when he drove past me. I started the car and pulled into his driveway, parking my BMW in the spot he had vacated. A few seconds later I had pushed the doorbell. The door was actually open and I could see through the screen as Mrs. Perkins approached.
“Mrs. Perkins, I’m Dr. Michael Bellamy. We met a few weeks ago at the staff party.”
“Yes, I remember. You were with Rochelle. Didn’t you get married recently? I think Jonathan mentioned it last week.”
“I’m sure he did and that’s part of why I’m here. May I come in? I have something I need to show you.” She opened the door and led me to the living room. “Umm, are your children nearby?”
“They’re next door with friends, using their pool.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want them to hear or see what I have to show you. I’ll tell you beforehand that your husband has been involved with Rochelle going back about a year. Please watch and listen to a conversation she had with me Sunday afternoon.” I started the recording, ignoring the looks she gave me about the websites I had visited and Rochelle’s comments about them. However, her eyes grew like saucers when Rochelle spoke about her affair.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Perkins. I doubt that you did anything to deserve this. I wanted to warn you that my attorney will contact the Board of Education later in the week. I anticipate that your husband and my soon-to-be ex-wife will be fired. You need to know the truth. I’m just sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”
“I am upset, but not terribly surprised. Jon had quite the reputation as a ladies’ man when we were in college and this is the second relationship I know of since we’ve been married, so I’m guessing there have been more that he got away with. This is the final straw so far as I’m concerned. He begged for forgiveness the last time and swore on his mother’s grave that he’d never stray again.”
“I spoke to my lawyer yesterday afternoon and he’ll be glad to represent you and put it onto my bill. I can’t see any reason why you should be penalized because of your husband’s misconduct. Incidentally, he tore out of here like he was on the way to a fire. I’m quite sure that Rochelle has gotten in touch with him so he knows that I know. I told Rochelle Sunday afternoon that she could expect to be fired, so…. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I can move back in with my parents. They love the kids and they have told me many times that Jon would stray again. I hate to have to admit that they were right.”
I stood and passed her Rob’s card then thanked her for her time and left. In many ways this was much worse than telling a family that their loved one had expired. My patients were all seriously ill and death was just around the corner. In this case the marriage seemed to be alive and well. It really was a shame, but I’d want to know if things were reversed.
>>>>>>
I drove to work, bucking the late commuter traffic, but arriving in plenty of time for my pre-surgery meeting with the team. I reviewed the procedure for tomorrow’s surgery, concentrating on the patient’s history and the possible problems that might arise. I was pleased to see that Mary Catherine was an active participant. All told the meeting took an hour and we all stood and stretched before leaving the conference room. “Mary Catherine, you’re probably not aware that we have a tradition of going out to lunch together the day before a procedure. We’d like to have you join us if you’re not scheduled for anything else.”
“Thank you, Dr. Bellamy; Beth told me about it after Monday. It was incredible watching you work, but may I please ask you to call me Kate. You probably know that Irish Catholics have a lot of daughters named ‘Mary Something.” There are three in my family alone, me and two cousins—Patricia and Anne.”
“I promise I will, Kate, but only if you call me Mike.”
“Okay…Mike and thanks for your confidence.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve earned it…and more. You’re one of the finest OR nurses I’ve ever worked with.” It was true. Mary Catherine—Kate—was as sharp as a tack, often anticipating what I needed and having it available even before I called for it. It wasn’t long before she was an integral part of my team.
>>>>>>
I was working late on a Friday night of a week that had been too long due to two emergency procedures thanks to two multi-vehicle automobile accidents in two days. I had spent four long days in surgery this week. It had been a profitable week, but I was totally beat.
I had just finished my last Medicare form when the office door opened. “Kate, what the hell are you doing here so late? You must have something better to do on a Friday night than hang out here in the hospital.”
“You’re here.”
“Yeah, but not by choice. Those emergency procedures caused me to be late on this crap.” I held up the completed forms in disgust. “I swear…I must waste half a day completing these damned forms every week. Thank God I’m done.”
“Great! Got time to take a girl for a bite?”
I smiled. “I think I could handle Five Guys or McDonald’s.”
“If you eat that shit, you’ll wind up needing a cardiac surgeon yourself. No…I think seafood is more in order.”
Accepting her suggestion, I drove us to a big seafood buffet where they knew me and always moved me to the head of the ever-present line. We missed the six o’clock rush by more than an hour so we walked right in and took our seats, ordering iced tea before stepping up to the buffet. We started with cold boiled shrimp with spicy cocktail sauce, talking about our lives as we ate our way through the shrimp, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and crab legs.
The discussion became personal when Kate told me that she had heard about my marriage turned bad. “How are you handling the stress,” she asked.
“Not well...at least, not as well as I would have if I was married.” Kate merely nodded and we remained mostly silent through the rest of the meal. When I offered to return her to the hospital….
“No, thanks; did I ever tell you that I minored in stress relief in nursing school? Take me to your home and don’t even think of saying no.” I didn’t say no that night and I never said no to her in the future either.
Eighteen months later
I pushed the grocery cart out of the store, following my very pregnant wife. Suddenly, I stopped with a lurch. Kate turned to ask, “What’s the problem, Michael?”
“Sorry, but I just saw Rochelle…over there on the right in the dark red jacket.”
“Excellent! Let’s go. I want a word with her.” She strode off quickly with me struggling to keep up. We were about fifteen feet behind Rochelle when Kate called her name. Rochelle turned and looked up in confusion until she saw me.
“We haven’t met, Rochelle. I’m Kate, Michael’s wife and I wanted to thank you sincerely for destroying your relationship with Michael. You could have had everything you wanted had you handled things differently.” I knew where this was headed, but remained silent as was appropriate for my place.
“Michelle, come up here between us and stand next to the panel truck where only Rochelle and I will be able to see you. Now, drop your slacks to your knees.”
Obediently, I moved my hand to my left side, working the button and pulling the zipper down. “That’s right, Rochelle—Michelle is wearing women’s slacks and pumps and that’s not all.” Kate pulled the front of my blouse up exposing my light pink camisole as my slacks fell. Beneath it you could just make out the outline of my dark pink bra and my small breasts. Rochelle’s mouth fell as my lacey pink panties, matching garter belt, and black stockings became visible.
“And, there’s more, Rochelle. Check this out.” She pulled my panties down to show the custom stainless-steel cage securely locked around my cock and balls. “Okay, Michelle—you can get dressed now.” I pulled my slacks up as Kate continued.
“You see, Rochelle—you were right about Michael’s reading all of those stories on-line. He identified very closely with those pathetically weak men. Your problem was that you rammed all of your demands down his throat at one time. It was a case of too much-- too soon, what we call sensory overload in the medical field. Michael is naturally submissive, but he was also terrified. He’ll never be real slave material. Slaves have no rights. There are some things that Michael will never accept. I brought him along slowly, showing him that I loved him and that it was my love that was helping him to realize his dreams of blissful submission. That’s why I will never cheat on him or expose him to homosexuality by making him suck a lover’s cock.
He wears that cage every day, but I love his cock so much that he rarely goes more than two days before I make him fuck me until I can’t stand. I have conditioned him to lick me clean after we make love. Anything that comes out of his cock goes into his mouth and stomach. I have also trained him to take my urine. That’s really convenient now that I’m pregnant. Yes, Rochelle—all of this was yours for the taking, but now it’s mine and I want to thank you. To show my appreciation I’ve decided to name my daughter Shelly. So, thank you again.
“I learned he was submissive our first night together. What do men always want from us?”
“To fuck us, of course.”
“That’s right, Rochelle, but I had to take the lead—undressing him and myself then actually pushing him onto the bed. I took the top, rubbing his spongy cock head into my wet slit before taking him deep into my core. He didn’t last too long the first time, but that was okay. Once we were done, I sidled up to straddle his face where I told him to eat me out—to clean me and to eat me to an orgasm. We repeated that twice that night before falling asleep naked on top of the blanket. I think Michael came three times that first night, not even close to how many I had.
“The following morning, we showered and Michael shaved before we went back to bed. When I asked him what he wanted me to do, what do you think he said?”
“He wanted a blowjob, of course.”
“Not even close; he wanted me to jerk him off. A man who wants that is giving control of his orgasm to his partner. I had a rotation in psych when I was studying for my RN so I knew immediately that he was submissive. That’s more common than you might think. Many high-powered executives—doctors, too—use submissiveness as a means of controlling their stress.
“I did jerk him off, but then I made him lick my fingers clean. The following day I pulled him into the shower, telling him to kneel and open his mouth. ‘I want to pee into your mouth,’ I told him. ‘Try to swallow if you can. That’s such a turn-on for me.’ So, naturally, he did as I requested. Of course, he spilled quite a bit, but he did it for me three more times that day and twice at work in his office lavatory on Monday. By the time he took me back to my apartment to pick up some more clothes he was able to swallow all of it. Now all I have to do is slide my hips forward and he’s on my cunt in a flash. He sits between my legs, kissing and licking my thighs unless I give permission to lick and suck my cunt. I must have ten or twelve orgasms a day, although my record for a day is seventeen. I think we’ll try to break that this weekend.
“By the way, what happened with your teaching job?”
“I was given a formal letter of reprimand and when the other teachers found out why every man on staff was after me. I finally succumbed to a young custodian who was hung like a horse. Man, could he fuck! But we never did anything in school. I was living with my friend Arianne then, but that wasn’t a problem. He did both of us some nights. He had incredible stamina.”
“What about your principal?”
“He was fired. When I was questioned by the superintendent and the school district attorney, I told them that he pressured me into sex by threatening to give me bad reports so I’d be fired. That was only about three weeks before I met Michael. You probably know the rest.”
“Well, I’m glad you still have a job. Me…I’m happily unemployed. Nice
meeting you and, thank you again.” Kate turned then and pointed to her car. I turned our cart and followed her. I always followed her. That was my place—either between her legs or at her feet.
Kate had taken over every facet of my life other than my work. At home I only had one responsibility—to keep her happy. She did everything else. My stress level and my blood pressure dropped. She was strict, but fair, punishing me only when I did something stupid or sloppy or inconsiderate.
On those occasions she striped my bottom with my belt. Once my punishment was done, she put it behind her. She always applied a soothing lotion to my red butt as I lay across her lap. To show my contrition I always slipped between her legs to either take her urine or drive her crazy with orgasm after orgasm.
As I followed Kate to the car, I thought my life was perfect. I had a great high-paying position and a rewarding professional life. At home I had a beautiful sexy wife who loved me and showed it every day through her domination and control of me. I was putty in her hands and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
