The Reluctant Domme:

[taoschild]

My newest novel, The Reluctant Domme, is out on Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1081848) and will soon be available on Amazon as well. I'm working on the novella sequel currently and plan to give coupons for a free copy to those of you who helped me here.    I'm including the Copy Cover and a snippet below and will post more soon. Thanks again for those of you who spurred some ideas for the direction of the plot. IMO this is the sexiest novel I've written.

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Copy Cover:
My fingers ran up across the newly risen bricks of my abdominals before slowly tracing the deep line down the middle. “More,” he insisted as his tongue swept his lips seductively, his watchful eyes vigilant. My fingers spread, gliding across the arching slope of my chest. He devoured my performance as if he was ravenous. Suddenly there was only him. The restaurant became a blur as if the heavy fog of his need for my muscles swept everything else away. This show was for him. I was for him. My downcast eyes watched his legs cross, his excitement surge in his pants. He was lost in me as well. I cooed suggestively, playing the feeling up further for him. His excessive desire caused my heart to skip a beat. The cadence of our shallow halting breathing met in harmony. I needed him. Badly...

A revealing evening shows Dani her unquenchable urges to submit to her husband’s wishes. Jack holds parallel desires in the bedroom with a fetish for strong, dominating, muscular women. Seeking to please him, Dani undergoes a journey to become the woman of Jack’s fantasies with bondage and role-play as guides. Can they work out their competing needs to reach the sexual fulfillment they both crave?

---

 “How?”

“Do you really want me to show you, Dani?” His eyebrow arched up as if I didn’t quite understand what the consequences of my assent might be. A ripple of fear shivered through me. The way his candidly observant hazel eyes reflected the brilliance of the firelight only enhanced my wariness. Goosebumps immediately lined the torso of my nude frame as if a field of wheat had miraculously germinated. One benefit of the seemingly ceaseless rain that winter was that all the extra time spent at home seemed to inevitably evolve into extracurricular activities.

Lips pressed together, tongues investigating, hands caressing, our lithe, sweaty bodies met each evening. Drowning out the thunder outside, we made love by the firelight on our bedroom floor area rug under a twisted lump of blankets. Other times we’d graduate to the bed itself, where we fondled each other’s firm bodies before we ‘did the deed.’ Recently our lovemaking had become a bit staid and predictable, but we still performed and fell asleep with our bodies intertwined.

But that night, he wanted something different. Trying to shake up the monotony, he’d asked me on more than one occasion to play the more aggressive partner when we coupled. A dominatrix, he’d called it. Try as I might, the not-so-subtle programming by society to be submissive had set in and made the task an impossible one. The subconsciously whispered refrain to wear makeup, look pretty, have good manners translated into discomfort bordering on outright anguish when it came time to take charge. Performing as a dominatrix in the bedroom only increased the discomfort tenfold. Almost every time I’d tried it previously, it had ended up with me laughing or asking for inane things which inevitably turned him off.

I nodded, not exactly sure of what I was agreeing to. Jack, my husband for five years, was everything I dreamed of in a man. He was a laundry list of ‘must haves’ for women seeking a mate; loving, intelligent, supportive, hard-working, rugged, sculpted, and well-off financially. His olive complexion, dark hair, and bright smile, which he was quick to flash, catered to my taste in men as well. He had a great family which meant I had no in-law issues.

From the start, his Mom had considered me a ‘good catch.’ She was a feminist ahead of her time, so it wasn’t because people considered me good-looking. Sure, I had blue eyes, blonde hair, long legs, a bright smile, and what guys would call ‘firm tits’ (not that his mom took stock of this). One of my college roommates affectionately called me “your basic nightmare” because my looks shamed others. God, I hate even admitting that. But it wasn’t how I looked that impressed his Mom. It was the fact that I said what I wanted, didn’t wear much makeup, and stood up to Jack when I needed to that set me apart.

Now that I think about it, that sassiness is probably why Jack was attracted to me in the first place. Even then he wanted to be told what to do. Why hadn’t I seen that before? Jack was absolutely devoted to me and showed his trust in me by sharing a secret that he’d never dared tell another soul.

It was the day after our engagement and we were relaxing on the couch watching television. If memory serves me, it was Seinfeld. Thursday nights meant the trifecta; Friends, Seinfeld, and E.R., and the evening was always topped off by pizza and beer. Yet that night his usual caustic comments and fun jibes at the shows were replaced by fidgeting so pronounced I’d finally asked “What’s wrong?” in frustration.

 He stammered momentarily, then finally managed with his voice little more than a whisper, “Look, I love you more than anyone, but…” he stood up and paced back and forth behind our couch.

“But what?”

“I…” His jerky movements showed a level of agitation I hadn’t seen in him before, so I didn’t interrupt again and silently willed him the confidence to continue.

He stopped and looked at me, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. My eyes implored him to continue. “You have the most expressive eyes,” he muttered.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanted to say. Don’t worry. It’s okay. I love you.”

 “I love you too. It’s just that I have... this thing.” Not the most descriptive thing, I thought. “And I… I have to let you know something before you commit to me. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed unless you have a dead body in the basement. “It wouldn’t be fair unless I shared my dark side with you.” For a moment I thought he was kidding, but the expression on his face said otherwise.

My skin crawled as we walked down the creaky wooden stairs into his poorly lit, concrete-floored basement. The stale smell of the air and the frigid temperature only contributed to my gloomy feeling about what would come next. Under the stairs, he pointed to a stack of boxes and a purple Converse duffle bag sitting atop.

“What?” I asked, not really wanting his ‘dirty secret’ revealed, but asking nonetheless. At least it’s too small for a dead body.

“Open them and see how weird I am before deciding I’m what you really want.” My face winced in confusion. What was this dark secret he was hiding? With trepidation, I slid past him and reached for the bag as if it might bite. It was so quiet, with him watching motionless, that the zipper sounded piercing as I opened the bag. Looking inside with confusion, there wasn’t a gun or something horrific as I’d begun to fear, only a number of haphazard VHS tapes. I picked a few up, still trying to grasp what was going on. They were labeled with confusing terms like WPW 34, Ms. Int 1989, or Debbie while others remained blank. “What, what are these?” I asked, still not getting the point.

 “Put one in,” he responded, motioning to a 6” old-fashioned VCR/TV combo unit that screamed technology of a bygone era. The secret was killing me — his demeanor was so unlike him, unsure and mysterious. As I grabbed the one labeled Ms. Int 1989 and put the tape in the player, I heard his nervous, raspy breath increasing to a feverish pitch. The once familiar hum of the VCR tape whirled into action and the screen lit up.

A tanned woman raced onto a brightly lit stage in a pink swimsuit, placed her palm to her forehead, bent down, pointed one foot behind her, and froze in position until some music began. Her arm swelled like I envisioned a strong man’s might, her bent leg bulging with lines carved as if in concrete, and her pointed foot revealed a calf split in two, thick with muscle. I stared in awe. I’d heard of female bodybuilders, but never really given them much notice.

Bright lights poured down on her from above as she hit pose after pose. Her brawny build and honed physique suggested not only an incredible level of strength but an intensity to her diet; while her pert breasts strained upwards, defying gravity. I almost chortled when I saw her proud, taut nipples which looked as if she had teased them backstage before she’d run out to perform. Giving the boys an extra show was bound to help her score, I thought.

But I didn’t laugh. There was something about this he wanted me to see and, despite my confusion, the video was somehow oddly erotic. So I watched quietly instead, sensing growing tension from Jack. His hoarse breathing accelerated and when I cast him a subtle glance, he was chewing nervously on a fingernail.

The woman on the screen, however, pranced on with utter confidence. Her skin glistened under the intense lights, muscles roiling as she danced across the stage. Her blonde curly locks bounced, breasts pointed proudly, and a permanent grin remained glued to her face. She was just curves, muscles, and silky skin. Again and again, she struck poses while I watched the muscles rise, thick grooves in her abs playfully shimmer, and her honed muscular body dance. I didn’t comment on the video, still perplexed by the meaning of what I’d seen.

Instead, I turned and asked, “Wha...”

“Now look in the boxes,” he’d said flatly, ignoring my question. As She Drives Me Crazy continued blaring in the background and the woman in the pink suit extended her routine, I pried open a box lid. I was greeted by dozens of muscle magazines. I opened another container and saw more of the same. Flipping through them, I noticed that WPW must have referred to Women’s Physique Worlds, which were in a box neatly ordered by date. One cover, adorned by a golden tanned brunette in a skin-tight purple dress, caught my attention. The outfit looked like it was sprayed on, and the woman turned sideways, proudly displaying bulging biceps. She was bigger than the pink bikini blonde, and more attractive, as well.

 I was so focused on my thoughts that his voice startled me. “The thing you need to know before you marry me... The thing you have the right to know is that I have a muscle fetish -- for women. I’m not gay.”

“I see.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“But I’m not asking you to train or be like that… It’s... I’m sorry... I’ve never told anyone before.”

“It’s okay. Tell me.” I pleaded, turning toward him and taking his hands in my own, trying to convey a sense of safety.

“That I have a hard time shutting it off. I don’t want it to be a big awkward thing between us, and I thought I needed to be honest and tell you.”

“But you don’t want me to look this way?” His pause told me everything.

 “I’m not going to tell you I wouldn’t like it. That would be lying, but I don’t expect you to try and look like they do. And don’t get me wrong, you obviously turn me on.”

“It’s okay.” I cut him off. “Thank you for telling me.” I had a lot to think about.

* * *

[taoschild]

A little more. Let me know if you'd like another installment afterward. The book is now on Amazon as well https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093TCKV2Q and will soon be in paperback as well.

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It took a few years, but eventually, we fought through the worst of the embarrassment regarding his feelings, but his revelation was hard on me as well. I felt the pressure to get bigger, and there was nobody for me to talk to about Jack’s feelings regarding muscular women. It was so intensely personal for him, and he’d entrusted his secret with me, so I held it close to the vest.

For the next few years, after we married, I maintained a rigorous workout routine, trying to build the body of his dreams. I didn’t mind lifting weights and working out -- I actually found it rewarding. Initially, I made great strides and as my body changed he became more open with me, sharing his feelings about muscle. It was a gradual progression and I think as I developed, his feelings changed as well. As I grew, so did his hopes for what I might become. The line between hope and fantasy became blurred and I remembered his comment “I have a hard time shutting it off.”

We began to arm wrestle and play fight and eventually I think he realized he not only wanted a woman who looked a certain way, but who used her strength in a certain way, too. It took me a while to see this transition in his feelings, but it was laid bare that night we were sat on comfortable blankets in front of the fire and played a new card game that he’d bought entitled, Learn, Laugh, Love, Fuck.

The game elicited answers to a series of relationship questions, beginning with fun trips down memory lane before we met, and ending with the deepest sexual fantasies. At the start, each of us drew five reward cards that ranged from doing the household chores for a day to rough sex that the other partner had to perform. From my five I had selected a rather mundane card which proposed that Jack would have to plan a romantic evening out, buy an outfit for me, and do his best impression of Richard Gere from Pretty Woman.

The questions in the game were mostly a set of uncomfortable topics designed to open communication on issues and feelings not typically discussed in a relationship. Others were more akin to dares and foreplay. We had made an evening out of it incorporating whipped cream, champagne, and blackberries as the foreplay ratcheted up. Looking back, I’m convinced that Jack stacked the deck, as a number of questions he read for me were about strength or dominant behavior.

My dismal luck in moving on the board reinforced the feeling that the cards had been set up, but since I was enjoying the foreplay, stroking, and kissing mixed with a healthy dose of champagne, I didn’t complain. There was plenty of laughing and the combination of alcohol and the cards created a romantic mood which progressed as we shed our inhibitions - and our clothing. Then came the victory card he read aloud to me:

“Have your partner become the dom/domme, assert their dominance physically and verbally, and order you to pleasure them. He/She should not leave character while you become either a naughty or pliant submissive.” He looked over at me and winked. “Looks like you're going to have to play for real tonight, Dani.”

“Jack, I don’t know. Isn’t there another card you’d like?” Face etched with disappointment, his eyes dropped to the floor. I tried to explain, “It’s just that...I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll be any good. I mean, it’s such a stretch. I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“Do you want me to show you?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with disappointment.

“Um, yeah, and I could be the submissive for you.” I offered.

“Do you really want me to show you, Dani?” he growled menacingly.

His offer to demonstrate how to act like the dominant one both intrigued and disconcerted me. I hadn’t realized there was more to his fantasies than being with a muscular woman. I suspected there would be a certain level of muscle worship, like when he squeezed my muscles when we had sex. Now a new truth dawned on me. He wanted to be submissive in the presence of a muscular woman. Or, I should say, to me. I was already faking one thing, I didn’t know how I could do another.

He ached for me to be the dominant muscle woman of his dreams. I guess I should have been flattered but, instead, I suddenly felt even more pressure to get bigger, stronger, in order to play the part. I knew what a dominant person might do, and I wanted to be that woman. The feminist in me immediately questioned why I felt I couldn’t. Irritated with myself, I thought, maybe.

“Ye… yes,” I nodded.

Without warning, he launched into character.

“Didn’t I tell you to get stronger than me, bitch?” It was a tone I’d never heard from him and it startled me. I looked at him trying to read his face and judged it to be part of the role play, so I went along with it. It was hard to take him seriously, at least at first.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Very sorry.” Suddenly he reached behind me and a thwapp resounded in the air and intense pain flared through my butt. He’d slapped my naked ass so hard tears welled up in my eyes. I saw a brief flinch and a look of panic flash across his face before I blinked to let him know I was alright. A mixture of annoyance and resolve washed over me and I steeled myself against another strike.

“Sorry, Master.” He emphasized the second word. “Do not again forget to end each statement by saying the name of the light of your existence, ‘Master.’” I almost rolled my eyes with the silliness of his statement but stayed in character.

“Sorry, Master. I will get stronger than you soon. I promise, Master.”

“I expect you will. Now, turn over, do twenty-five pushups, and then apologize to me.” I quickly flipped over and started in. I felt his eyes boring through my naked body so I went deep, focusing on proper form.

Eight reps in he called out, disapproval ringing in his voice, “Start again. Make sure your nipples touch the floor. You will get stronger than me.”

“Sorry Master,” I grunted, beginning again and pushing deep with each rep, focusing on my nipples as they brushed across the floor. He stood, towering over me and watching me like a hawk, focusing, I was sure, on his favorite part of my body: my wide, cut back. Straining through the last few reps, my nipples stiffened as they brushed the floor, and an odd sense of arousal shot through me. I finished and got to my knees, looking up at him earnestly, waiting for the next instruction.

“Get up and stand in front of me.” I found myself oddly turned on as I followed his command, slipping easily into the role. If nothing else, the evening had been a welcome change from our usual sexual routine. He noticed my visible excitement and it seemed to give him even more confidence in his new persona.

“You will do three sets of those each day from now on until you can beat my record of sixty-three. You will get stronger than me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now tease your nipples and finger fuck yourself while I watch.” I was typically shy about such things, but I followed his bidding without hesitation. This was a whole new level of submission and it fit like a leather glove.

“Come closer,” he whispered. I inched closer and he began fondling my legs as I masturbated, intense flames of desire shooting through me. I flexed, my sweet muscles bulging under his grip, and I perceived a strong sense of approval flash across his face. The idea that I was pleasuring him while I pleasured myself brought me near the edge.

Suddenly, he commanded, “stop!” Every fiber of my being wanted to continue, but I froze, actually scared by his overwhelming authority.

“Yes, Master,” I whispered, trying not to let the disappointment seep into my voice.

“You never get to cum before I do,” he hissed “Pleasure my cock.” His hard, ruddy pink, throbbing cock stood at attention. It was something that I rarely did, lacking both confidence and practice, but I slid to my knees and began to give him a blow job.

[wissen]

Wow, it looks very promising! Going to read it right away!

[wissen]

It was very good read. I am not fan of BDSM, but even for me it was very interesting. I like dynamic between characters and their development. Your solution gor muscle growth allowed to go slightly beyond normal means while keeping it realistic.

Only downside is that you brought up few things that you have never developed farther.

[ArkhamAsylum]

I will certainly buy this book. It looks very interesting. Great work.

[taoschild]

It was very good read. I am not fan of BDSM, but even for me it was very interesting. I like dynamic between characters and their development. Your solution gor muscle growth allowed to go slightly beyond normal means while keeping it realistic.

Only downside is that you brought up few things that you have never developed farther.

Thanks for the kind words Wissen. I hope I cover the other issues in the novella sequel, but I think the main storyline was complete. Please feel free to DM me with other issues that you'd like sewn up so I can make sure I'm covering that in the novella.

Here's a little more:
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I cupped his balls in one hand while my tongue tickled the tip of his shaft. I breathed “Yes, Master,” repeatedly kissing his tip with my full, pouty lips. He moaned his approval. Switching gears I deepened his pleasure by sucking his shaft diligently and feeling him close in on a release. His throbbing pleasure boosted my confidence, so I closed my mouth around him, sucking hard and running my tongue playfully around his surging veins.

He gasped in pleasure when I switched over to the lollipop treatment bringing his tool in and out of my mouth, sucking hard. What part of his long shaft I couldn’t cram inside I squeezed, coaxing the juices to flow. I flexed my free arm and felt him fondle my lean strength. My mouth curled into a smile over his big cock as my tongue swirled over him. I drew him in and out faster and faster. He erupted inside me, nearly overwhelming me with a massive explosion of seed, but I sucked fast and hard, swallowing awkwardly.

His gasping pleasure slowly settled. “That was well done, servant,” he whispered, backing away. “Well done.” My body was crying to explode in a raucous orgasm and I needed him inside me. Deep inside.

“I promise to get stronger than you soon, Master." Please can I have you? Please?

“Yes, servant. Make it so,” he smiled and lay down on the bed. I climbed atop him and slid him inside me. “You will get stronger than me, but for now flex your tiny muscles for me.” He commanded. I knew he needed to feel their hardness and appreciate their size in order to keep going, and I willed them to get bigger.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make them bigger, harder, and stronger. Stronger than you ever were and when I am -- I’ll punish you for being weak.” I knew I was leaving character, but he needed to hear me say it. I rode him, feeling his hardness swell inside me again as my words hit home.

“Bigger, stronger, harder” I repeated, feeling the need to bring him to the same level of pleasure I was feeling. The pleasure of it ached between my legs, and I longed to cum... but I had to get him to this peak too, so we could share the view. I threw my head back in ecstasy until I felt his whole body tense and let go once more. The release brought mine too as I came as hard as I ever had, my head spinning as I let out a guttural grunt. My entire body tingled. It was an experience unlike I’d ever had and my wet lips and tongue found his sweet mouth in thank you as I collapsed onto his chest.

Finally, my thumping chest resumed its normal rhythm and I rolled off him smiling. “It better be really soon, servant. I don’t think you understand how much I need that to happen,” he whispered, his role receding as he began to nod off.

“Sorry, yes, very soon Master,” I moaned, still feeling tingles travel throughout my body. I lay next to him, periodically kissing him and snuggling him with my cheek. The adventure had been erotic and I already longed to fill the role of a sub more often. It was a new experience and it had sent me to far greater heights of ecstasy.

“I don’t know if I have it in me, to be the domme,” I said, in all honesty. My confidence had grown as my body blossomed with muscles, but it wasn’t in me to be ‘bossy.’

I saw him look down, trying to hide his disappointment, and knew then that this wasn’t something he wanted, but something he needed. Whether it was out of embarrassment in how he felt or protecting me from his disappointment — he’d hid his true feelings from me. Yes, he’d been truthful about his unabiding devotion to powerfully muscular women and hinted that he wanted to be submissive, but I hadn’t realized how overwhelming his need truly was.

I guess I could have read the tea leaves. Truthfully, it was actually a lot easier than that to perceive. Now that I knew, the signs were obvious. It was as if the puzzle was already put together with just a few pieces remaining. His actions had always matched his words. He’d stopped lifting and switched to cardio when I hit the weight room. I thought his encouragement had been part of our sex game. He always wanted me to ride him cowgirl style when we’d had sex and he’d whisper to me about how strong I was and how weak he was in comparison.

But now the veil had been lifted; it dawned on me that it had never been play talk in bed. He’d desperately longed for me to be stronger and outright dominate him in the bedroom. But he was a 6’3” athletic male who had trained his whole life. How could a woman five inches shorter ever get stronger unless I used gear?

The weight of the revelation overwhelmed me and I knew how important my next words would be. I couldn’t dash his dreams, nor make him feel belittled. “What I mean is, until I get stronger than you. It’s just hard to pretend.” We both knew that day would never arrive, but he heard my lie and willingly accepted it, leaving a door open to possibility. It was important to him. “But I’ll get there.”

He smiled back at me. The words were the right ones, even if they were full of B.S. Little did I know back then that I was wrong. Dead wrong.

[QBikk]

Hey all,
Hope you are doing fine in these difficult corona times. I'm delayed to publish the new version of my stories pack (2 stories missing to reach 750), but I took time to read Greye's last book. Here my review.
Take Care

What if you could reveal to your fiancée your darkest fantasies?
What if she was accepting of them?
What if a game turned into something real and much more than expected?
What if your wife had the will and the means to make your wildest fantasy come true?
How would you then live a new status quo….?

The new story by Richard Greye depicts the life of a young couple, Dani & Jack, whom are deeply in love. Jack looks to reveal his darkest fantasy to his fiancée, to be upfront before they marry. This revelation leads to several events, which neither of them could have expected.

One of them is the introduction of female muscle and domination in the couple's relationship.
Initially reluctant and having difficulties playing  the role, Dani learns about it and enhances her persona and physique to make it more realistic for Jack. Doing it out of love, she gets more and more into it, triggering events into their lives that readjust their reality.

The story draws you into a relationship, where open communication and a sharing of fantasies is the norm. Mixed with domination and female muscle, it depicts this lovely couple’s life, their struggles to adjust to the situations and it might even give you ideas for your own relationship.

[jhunter]

Thanks for the excerpts, hope you keep up the good work.

[Zolaire]

Man... that was easily one of the best stories I've ever read. Absolutely worth the buy! Great job!

[taoschild]

Man... that was easily one of the best stories I've ever read. Absolutely worth the buy! Great job!

Thank you for your kind words. I really appreciate it. I spent quite a long time with this one and am happy with how it turned out. Here is a little more..

* * *

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It made me question what I knew about myself, at least in the bedroom. If I could feel this way after last night, what else could I learn about myself? After he went to sleep, I reflected upon it deep into the night. I didn’t understand my irrational reaction to his domineering behavior and I could not get his words out of my head. You will get stronger than me.

His words kept resounding in my mind like a skipping record. I wanted him again, but he slept peacefully beside me. Fighting the notion that I was different -- that I was betraying womanhood for craving the humiliation -- my body won the battle over my mind as intense passion had its way with me once more.

My fingers found my clit, still sticky with his cum, already warm and wet. Overcome with desire, I muffled an orgasmic shudder to keep from waking him up. Rubbing my nipple with one hand, feeling the hard muscle underneath, my other hand probed my love tunnel and clit. Tremors spread through me as I replayed the words over and over in my head; you will get stronger than me. Another flare of intense white heat raged through my body. My thighs quivered, my breath grew raspy, and my hips longed to thrust upward from the intensity of the sensation, but I held back and gritted my teeth as I silently reached climax.

Though I remained quiet on the surface, I imagined the banging of drums and tremendous clashes of primal cymbals rising, soaring, exploding as I reached orgasm. Never had I cum so hard, so fast, and so often in such a short time frame. Jack had introduced me to another world, perhaps a fetish of my own but I wasn’t exactly sure how it would play out. As I drifted off to sleep the words continued to a whisper. You will get stronger than me.

I arose early the next morning still thinking about it all. You need to be stronger than me. Even recalling the experience my loins stirred as he slept peacefully by my side, a sweet smile glued to his face. I got up early and decided to start work on what he craved -- what we now both desired.

With new motivation, I headed off to the gym, determined to work harder than I ever had before. The words wouldn’t stop playing in my head. Stronger than me. Just thinking about him saying them excited me. Previously, the gym had been a place for me to do some serious thinking. After last night, I wondered if Jack wasn’t the only one with a sub fetish. The only difference between us was that my obsession was newly discovered.

The musty ‘meat shop’ that some called the gym had frustrated and fascinated me for years. Mine was far from the dingy gyms made famous in documentaries about bodybuilders. Pringle’s Gym was a vast sea of machines with people pumping, panting, and pushing to make their bodies more taut and shapely. The near-deafening sound of upbeat high-tempo music blared down from the ceiling and countless reminders of my physical weakness paced the floor, flirting with one another.

Flawlessly couture blondes, perfectly made up and trailing perfume through the air behind them, jockeyed with a bevy of meathead ‘ya, bro!’ males for attention. I usually dodged the contest by putting my head down and had learned to avoid the men’s lecherous eyes by wearing no makeup and baggy clothes. That meant I could hang in the corners and laugh out loud at some of their antics or the attire of the endless blondes seeking out dates instead of weights. The competition between the frat boys and the gym bunnies ranged between ‘funny’ and ‘annoying’ on any given day, but it affected me most when it came between me and the equipment.

I sweat in the gym for hours that day, observing an entirely different clientele. I watched the really big women and sought to mimic their lifts and techniques. I honed in on one in particular. She was obscenely big and had almost masculine features, her strong-jawed face pockmarked with acne. Great folds of muscle welled up all along her body, but her signature was giant bulging shoulders and a freakishly small waist which gave her an exaggerated V-shape. Tanned, thick muscle covered her body and despite her acne non-traditional appearance, there was a certain eroticism about her physique. She was clearly a bodybuilder. Was she stronger than Jack?

[taoschild]

 I trailed her back and forth across the gym and even from what I considered a distance, I could see her gluteal muscles separate and reform as she moved. I wasn’t there to see her body bulge though. I wanted to watch her lift heavy; heavier than Jack. Could she?

Finally warmed up, she went heavy on the leg press. It wasn’t close. She had plates stacked to the end of it; the machine maxed out. I stared in awe at her thick thighs, each with massive hyper-sized quad heads, pressing the enormous stack upward. “Uhhh,” she grunted forcefully, causing heads to turn as the weights clanked and each of her mighty leg muscles quaked with the tremendous effort.

She looked no-nonsense with knees wrapped in ace bandages, but her bulging thighs sporting discernible striations and tapered hamstrings hinted at a different kind of beauty and power. So it was possible for a woman to be stronger than a man. I guess I’d known before, but there had to be more involved than just lifting. She got up and shook her legs out, the great muscles swinging side to side seemingly unfettered by the slightest trace of fat, and smiled at me. I had trailed her across the gym, mimicking her lifts, and now she opened the door to a conversation I didn’t even know if I wanted to have.

 “Are you looking for a trainer?” Her deep, but friendly voice startled me as I finished a set of leg extensions next to her. It was one of my favorite exercises and sometimes I’d subtly run my long fingernails across my sartorius muscles as they popped up during the exercise.

“Um, maybe,” I responded.

“Well, if you are, let me know. My name is Tiffany Brooks.”

“I’m Danielle, but people call me Dani,” I responded far too fast, betraying my nerves.

“I’ll have an opening in a few weeks. What are your goals?”

“Um” to get stronger than my husband I thought, but knew I couldn’t reveal my unusual goals. “To get stronger” I finished. “A lot stronger.”

 “Powerlifting?” she asked, quirking her eyebrows up.

“Yeah, I think so. I want to get strong. Like, unnaturally strong,” my unsteady voice explained, essentially thinking out loud while I spoke.

“Well, then you got to lift heavy, girl, and rotate your workouts. You also have to eat right and take the right supplements.” I nodded in agreement and immediately understood that I was going to need help with my goals.

“Can I ask you what you bench and squat?” I asked, being far more forward than I was used to being.

She snorted. “Well, I’m more of a bodybuilder than a powerlifter and I haven’t done it for a while. I usually only go heavy on leg press; I just click with this exercise. Um, but I probably max squat three fifty and bench two-fifty.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic.” She smiled in response and I took her card before I left the gym. I came home hours later, sweaty and exhausted but somehow exhilarated from my workout, and walked into our brightly lit kitchen. It’s time for a remodel, I thought. The white tile floor, white backsplash, and appliances gave the room too much of a hospital look. It was a Saturday, so even though it was late morning, Jack was still in his pajamas sitting at the table reading the paper and eating a bowl of cereal.

 “Hey sexy,” I announced, as I confidently walked over and kissed him.

He looked up from his paper and his eyes zeroed in on me. My legs were still shaking from my push workout and the pump hadn’t left my shoulders or chest. My teal workout top was ringed with sweat, evidencing my hard work.

“You look like you had a good workout. You’re still pumped.”

“Yeah, it was a really good one. I worked hard. My Master told me to get to work after all,” I winked, and he laughed.

“Darn right, you need to get stronger than me,” he said jokingly, putting down his spoon. Even with the playful tone, the words had an effect on me.

“I’d like to do that again” I mused, not really conveying how life-changing the event had been for me. My instantly erect nipples belied my nonchalant response.

 “Yeah, I enjoyed it quite a bit, more than I thought I would,” he revealed. He studied my body for a moment, doubtlessly taking in my sensitive rock-hard nipples, before getting up to make a protein shake. He liked to support my efforts to get stronger and made them for me on most days. “What did you do today? The lifts for the push, I mean.” He focused on my workouts like a laser and I could see his breathing tense up when I discussed new maxes or lifts that contributed to beating him in arm wrestling. We’d had more than our share of contests over the years and I got the sense that he was probably giving about 80 percent of his strength against me now until I’d collapse in fatigue a minute or so into the contest.

“I’m trying push-pull for six weeks or so, but I benched, squatted, and leg pressed and did a number of ancillary things too like incline, shoulder press, and flyes.”

“Uh-huh,” I could see he wasn’t pleased and it chilled me a bit. Leftovers from the previous evening.

The conversation was already straying from last night and I wanted him to circle back. “Last night was something I’ve never done before. Do you think we could try that again soon, Master?” I winked at him trying to be seductive, but it came off more like I was the host of a cheap and tacky game show.

[taoschild]

 “I’ll never say ‘no’ to sex,” he winked at me and squeezed my shoulder. “Your delts have a pretty good pump.”

I was pleased he noticed my body but a bit annoyed that he wasn’t staying on the subject of last night. “I mean I really liked it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. I’d really,” I emphasized the word for good measure, “like to do it again.” I could see him calculating. It was the direct opposite of his fetish, but I suspected that he’d enjoyed the previous evening as well, for its variation if nothing else. My breath caught as I waited for his response.

The blender whirled quickly and he handed me a cup of purplish-blue liquid. Blueberry, I thought, as I took a big swig. “Drink it all,” he proclaimed as if it were an imperial dictum, easily slipping back into character.

 “Yes, Master.” I gulped it down and dropped it on the table.

“Strip.”

My stomach gurgled as I pulled off my sticky T-back workout top and tights and tossed them on the couch. Next, I undid my ponytail, allowing my hair to tumble down past my shoulders the way he liked it. I stood there wordless, anticipating his comment, seeking, needing his praise.

“I want to see your form for those pushups again. It was pretty spotty last night and I told you I wanted three sets a day. You didn’t do them at the gym, so it’s time to do them now.”

“Yes Master,” I swept my long blonde hair out of the way so he could watch my back as I worked. I grunted and pressed, my chest already exhausted from a grueling workout. By the time I neared twenty-five my entire body was shaking.

 At twenty-four he announced, “Keep going; I expect five more.” I pressed upward and rested at the top. “Twenty-five; c’mon, you can do this, my pet,” he said, cheering me on. One by one I kept going, resting at the top. My abs shook, my legs ached, and my pecs quaked and strained with the effort. My already warmed muscles felt like endless needles were pricking them as I worked. Never had I wanted something more, and I felt energized by his encouragement but my quivering arms failed me and I collapsed one rep too soon.

Exhausted I turned my head to the side. “Get up,” he announced. “I thought you wanted to be stronger than me.” His voice was distant and hard.

“I do. I’m sorry, I do, Master.”

“Then we’re going to have to make some changes around here.”

“Anything… Master.”

 “You’re going to have to start by adding calories -- a ton of them. I want you to eat six meals a day with a minimum of twenty-five grams of protein each time. And you didn’t do the pushups today. It’s like you don’t even listen to your Master.”

“No, but I did push…”

“Did you just tell me ‘no’?” he hissed.

“I’m sorry, master,” He had to see how ripe I’d become, hot juices dripping from my loins as he progressively upped the ante. If I wasn't so turned on, I might have wanted to vomit at how demeaning to women my behavior had become. I was disgusted with myself, but in no way prepared to stop the experiment.

[jcboyd]

 

[taoschild]

A little more before the fun stuff begins (when she gets stronger than him):
“Drop to the floor, do another set and then get up and flex for me.” I fell without complaint and banged out another thirteen pushups. On the last one, I shook so hard that the vibrations shook the dishes on the kitchen table above me. I was stuck halfway up: every instinct told me to put my knee down and finish the rep, or collapse, but instead, I kept fighting. Eventually, I reached the zenith and he began applauding me. His effusive praise made me feel like I was a new flower being nourished by the sun. I stood and flexed proudly before him, hitting a double biceps flex, marveling at how I’d been changed by a singular event the evening before.

“Hold that pose,” he said as he walked around me like I was a show horse being examined at an auction. Poking, prodding, and squeezing me as he circled me, I began to shake as I held the interminable flex.

“Don’t let it go,” he warned, “those biceps and your forearms are going to have to get a lot stronger if they are going to beat a man.” He clasped my rounded biceps between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed painfully. I muffled a gasp.

Months before I had donned a pink beanie and helped organize an equal pay day rally. I prided myself on being uncompromising in the pursuit of equality and women’s liberation and yet here I was, debasing myself before a man I loved, and only growing more aroused.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he chided. I held his gaze as he chastised me. His eyes blazed back at me, waiting. My breath grew raspy and my heart quickened as I held his stare. Then I felt defeated, dropped my eyes, and instantly relaxed. He was my Master, I could stare at him only with his permission. My eyes flicked back up at him and a ghost of a smile grazed his lips in victory. His eyes alight in mischief, he walked back around me; my arms were now shaking violently, and I began to whimper softly, but he didn’t seem to notice. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he whispered, “you need to get stronger than me.”

“Yes, Master,” I wheezed, my eyes fluttering in need. His lips curled into a wry smile as if he’d just unlocked a great secret. The essence of my whole being had been altered by the previous evening and he was in on what was now a quite open secret. I still didn’t understand my visceral reaction, but my bullet-hard nipples and wet, craving pussy were evidence of the new reality. Never had I felt this way and I wanted -- no required more. His eyes burned into me as if waiting for more.

“Soon, Master. I’ll work hard.” My shoulders were burning from keeping my arms raised and my biceps shook so hard they had lost some of their firmness, but still, I didn’t give in.

Finally, he nodded approvingly. “You may drop them.” I lowered my arms and looked at the muscles blush with blood, longing for them to be bigger for him. He continued circling me and surveying me as I cast my eyes downward, waiting for my next command.

“I think we’ll begin by practicing some servant training.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Well, my pet, it shall proceed like this. You may not look at me or speak to me unless I ask. I’ll tell you what to do, and you will comply without question. You will make your Master feel good. Do you understand me?”

It would take an idiot not to be able to figure it out, my brain wanted to scream. My body, on the other hand, almost released with the opportunity to please him. I wanted to slap myself for feeling that way, but the pull was almost magnetic -- as if I’d been brainwashed. “Yes, Master.”

[taoschild]

Maybe I should have started a new thread for this...but my wife shared this small section of my book so I thought I'd share it here as well.
------
Without an ounce of shame, Jack announced, “Eat your dinner while it’s warm and then you can perform while we wait for the bill. There is no need to feel embarrassed, you are beautiful.” I chewed silently, eating far less than normal despite the flavorful meal. My reticence regarding the post-meal show loomed large and unsettled my stomach.

“There’s a blush for want, a blush for shan’t, and a blush for having done something you’re embarrassed about. I hope yours is for want.” He reasoned, noting my heated cheeks. Nope. Oh, that’s not entirely true. Why are my cheeks betraying me? The answer was all three. I continued silently chewing and remained unresponsive. His voice filled the uncomfortable gap.

“Yours looks good. I’d like to try a piece.” He reached across the table without waiting for a response and speared a piece of chicken. No answer from me was forthcoming, nor even desired. As if a switch had been flicked, our game had become uncomfortable for the first time. Was it my fault? He was asserting his dominance as I liked, but… He encouraged me, almost as if he could hear my thinking.

“Don’t let society constrain you, be discreet and have fun. It’s just you and me. Start again.” I nodded, knowing he was right, but the lessons drilled into me during my upbringing - be modest, don’t draw attention to yourself, be polite - tugged at me nonetheless. My fingers traced the individual grooves of my strong six-pack stomach and they traveled upward toward my sweeping pecs. Taut nipples greeted my fingers even before they were touched. I heard Jack’s breath slow and his attention grow rapt, as if every fiber of his being was attuned to me. My chest heaved, muscles tightened of their own volition, almost as if he were in control of them. Even before my hands subtly gave them the focus they desired, my nipples grew even harder. I wanted this but struggled to keep my desire at bay.

“More,” he insisted as his tongue swept his lips seductively, his watchful eyes even more vigilant. My fingers spread, gliding across the arching slope of my chest. All subtlety lost, my swollen, rosy nipples had hardened into thick bullets stretching the material before them. He gobbled up my performance as if he was ravenous. Suddenly there was only him. The restaurant became but a blur as if the heavy fog of need for my muscles he emanated swept everything else away. This show was for him. I was for him. My downcast eyes watched his legs cross, his manhood surge in his pants. He was lost in me as well.

Like a needle scratching across an old record, it suddenly came to an abrupt end when his cracking voice announced, “Now, the finale. Pick up your underwear and breathe in your arousal.”

“Yellow.” There was no pause, the word just fell from my lips.

“Okay, I’ll respect that, but you will be punished when we get home.”

I nodded, aware of the ramifications, holding back tears of disappointment. I couldn’t look at him so I scanned the restaurant. A few people were still observing our drama. Some, amongst the audience, snickered, some were awed, others scoffed, and still others clearly wore expressions of outright horror.

We left shortly after my refusal and I remained completely silent, unsure of how I felt about it. Normally after a public display of our affection or my muscle we ended up having sex in the car, our arousal, mine, in particular, kicked into overdrive by his show of dominance before an audience. His hesitancy to be domineering had vanished, replaced by the calm projection of self-assurance and intimidating command. It left me breathless, my stomach coiled in knots, needing to please him thereafter. This time there was only silence and an air of seething anger in the car. My body was still hot for him, but there would clearly be no reward for leaving his commands unfulfilled.