When we got back to Boston, it was snowing like crazy. It’s a wonder the plane was even able to land. I guess we barely got in before the bulk of the storm hit, but by the time I got into the cab, traffic was bumper to bumper. There was almost a half-foot of white powder on the ground and the snow was falling sideways. It took me nearly three hours to get home. I noticed an extra Mercedes parked next to my wife’s little Mercedes convertible. Hmm, I wondered what was up with that.

When I walked in, I saw my wife sitting on the couch with her lawyer, Anna Goldberg. They both had stern looks on their faces. Anna was not only my wife’s lawyer; she was also a shopping buddy. Anna was a short brunette, a little bit stocky, but she always dressed well. Today she wore a black pants suit, with ankle-high boots, and an orange scarf around her neck. Scrutinizing her more carefully, I caught an almost satisfied look on her face. I knew the bitch never liked me. My wife comes from a wealthy family, so when I married her, she insisted on an ironclad prenuptial agreement. Anna came from the best law firm in the city and specialized in these types of agreements. Basically, I had no rights at all. My wife got virtually everything if we separated. At the time, I was so desperate to marry Lydia that I didn’t care. We were in love, or so I thought, and she was really fucking good in bed. I never lasted more than five minutes with her.

My wife got up off the couch and slapped me hard across the face. “What a loser I married,” she said.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” I said. “I made a mistake.”

“Oh, I should say you made a mistake. How many mistakes like this have you made?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated my words and slapped my face again. For some reason, she didn’t look upset. Not only was she not crying, but she seemed oddly energized. Even though she probably hadn’t left the house, she wore a ruffled skirt, a blouse and high heels. Lydia almost always wore heels.

“Read him the riot act, Anna.”

“Charlie,” said Anna. “Lydia has asked me to stay and give you the following ultimatum. I have the divorce documents all drawn up. You can sign here. As you know, Lydia would get the house, the savings, as well as 75% of your income for the next five years. Not so good for you.”

I swear the little cunt smirked as she said it. To my utter shock, Lydia was unable to hold back a grin. She wasn’t the least bit upset about me sleeping around!

“Oh my god,” I said, putting my hands to my head and sitting down. “I’m screwed.”

“That’s right,” said Lydia.

They let me gain my composure before Lydia said, “Dearest Charlie, I don’t want you to think I’m unreasonable or unfair. There is another option. Anna, if you would please.”

“My pleasure, Lydia. Charlie, Lydia has graciously given you an option. It’s an option I have employed for my female clients in the past. It has saved marriages.”

I perked up. I needed this marriage at all costs. The alternative was not an option. I had seen poor single men and I was hell bent on not becoming one.

Anna continued, “I should add this is a particularly harsh version of this type of contract, but I think it’s quite fitting given your past transgressions and some of the things Lydia has shared with me about you, Charlie. Plus you don’t really have much of a choice now, do you?”

Who was this annoying little tart to talk to me that way? It occurred to me that women were becoming increasingly invasive in my life. I used to rule over women, but I wasn’t sure it was the case any longer.

“Go ahead, read me the riot act,” I said.

“Very well,” Anna said. She began reading, as I sat there increasingly stunned at the ridiculous conditions the women had designed for me to stay married. What was even worse is that both Lydia and Anna had big smiles on their faces as they read their insane manifesto.

Anna, “In order to stay married to Lydia, I, Charlie agree to the following set of rules:

       As the two females waited for my reaction, I read down through the rest of the seven rules growing more disturbed by each successive one.

WHAT THE FUCK!!??! Things in my life had gone from bad to worse! My wife was now telling me that I had to basically become her live-in slave if I was going to stay married. I felt the sweat pouring down my armpits and my chest. Yet, very oddly, for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, I also felt the tiniest bit of arousal. I chose to ignore it.

“Honey, this is crazy. C’mon.”

Anna cut in, “No. If you ask me, what’s crazy is the way you’ve treated women over the years, especially your wife. Now the chickens have come home to roost.”

I stomped my feet and took my jacket and hurled it onto the floor.

“That’s it, have a big temper tantrum,” said Lydia. “It’s clear he’s made his choice. Draw up the divorce papers, Anna.”

“Certainly,” she said.

“Wait!” I said.

“No,” said Lydia. “Make up your mind. You can either take your proper place as my subservient, or take a hike!” She pointed to the door.

“Ok, I’ll do it!!” I yelled. “But she has to leave. This is between you and me, Lydia.”

“No, it’s not, jackass. I want Anna to see this. Remember the provisions of the contract. You have no say in ANYTHING. Anna stays.”

“Lydia,” I said pleadingly, attempting to reach out to her.

“Don’t even bother,” she said. “I told you when I married you that if I ever caught you cheating on me I’d nail your balls to the wall. Well, consider Anna the hammer. Plus, she happens to be a feminist who enjoys watching men get their just rewards. Isn’t that right, Anna?” she asked.

“It’s true,” she smiled.

This was crazy. It was like a sport to these nutty women.

“Anna stays,” said Lydia. “Now sign the documents, Charlie.”

Anna laid out a pair of documents. One was the divorce document that would basically cause me to give my life away, and the other was the crazy document that put Lydia (and to a lesser extent my boss – or so I thought at the time) completely in charge of my life. I ran the provisions in my mind again. I would be giving up my salary. I would have my penis locked up like it was the middle ages?! It seemed beyond nuts. But then I felt that tiny twitch again in my pants. Before I could fully analyze the implications of my actions, I reached over and signed the crazy document that would enable me to keep my marriage.

“Ok, it’s settled then,” said Anna, smiling proudly.

“Take off your clothing,” said Lydia.

“With Anna here?”

“I’m not going to tell you again, Charlie.”

Then, to both my surprise and Lydia’s, Anna spoke. “You know, Charlie, in my experience, this will be good for you. I’ve ruined many a man in my day with these pre-nups, but the ones who signed the other paper lived fulfilling lives serving and providing for their superior wives. Now Lydia happens to be a good friend of mine, and your name has come up over the years. Knowing what I know about you, I’m totally convinced that this is the right thing for you. You might not enjoy it at times, but you’ll get used to it. Now you’re not my client, but here’s some free advice. Learn to embrace your submissive side and everything in your life will become infinitely easier.”

I looked at Anna. Can you imagine the audacity of this little bitch? But she was making a lot of sense. I felt outnumbered. Plus I didn’t have much of a choice. I began to remove my clothing. It was yet another step on the path to the complete ruination my life was to become.

After being fired by this boss for his rude behavior and ordered to leave…

       Roger could not believe his luck. He’d insulted the boss and now he was cooked. He’d go broke without this job. He stood and prepared to leave. The sad thing was that Vanessa Cromwell was a complete and utter babe. How could he have said those things to such a hot piece of tail? She was so well dressed. For a moment, Roger had this crazy thought that maybe he’d offer to be her personal servant. It might be humiliating but in recent years Roger had found himself having these kinds of odd thoughts when it came to women. They confused him. On the one hand, he wanted to get laid and liked the idea of subjugating them. But sometimes he found himself thinking about being humiliated by them. Being controlled by them. There was something powerful, something wonderfully bitchy about the woman. And Vanessa Cromwell was quite the female specimen. She was so classy, so well dressed. She had a certain aloofness that he found irresistible. At least he would be able to think of her when he masturbated. That was small consolation but at least it was something. He clumsily made his way to the door. “I’m sorry again for what I did,” he uttered.

That’s when he heard the words that rocked him to his core. “Wait!” her sharp feminine voice ordered. He stopped in his tracks, one hand on the door. He turned and faced The Boss.

She had a slight grin on her pretty, experienced face. “Just how sorry are you, young man?”

“Huh?” he said, face bright red, barely able to utter the words.

“Come here,” she motioned with her little red-painted finger.

 ***

 Vanessa couldn’t believe she was going through with it. Her friend Brooke was really rubbing off on her. And there was something about this boy, all bulky and clumsy that excited her. Something about the idea of pushing him around. He was less than half her age and more than twice her size. She reasoned that, other than the physical side of things, she was his superior in every other facet, emotionally, intellectually, financially, and sexually. In addition, there was something she detected in this boy. Despite his rudeness and his temperamental nature, there was something that needed to be tamed. She motioned for him to come around the side of the desk and stand in front of her.

“You said you’d do whatever I needed you to do,” she said, legs still crossed, as she studied the disheveled young man that stood in front of her.

Noticing the look of recognition on his face, she quickly corrected herself. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Roger,” she added. “I’m not interested in that. Not from you anyway.” She waited for his shoulders to slump.

“Yes ma’am,” Roger said. His heart was beating a mile a minute. He had an inkling he knew where this might be going. A part of him was terrified but a part of him tingled with anticipation.

“You’re pretty polite once you know your place,” Vanessa said, teasing out the moment. “How would you like to be taught a great deal more about respecting women?” Before he could answer she continued, “It won’t be as fun for you as it will be for me. But I suspect you will learn a great deal. Eventually you might grow to enjoy what I have in mind.”

“What do I have to do?” Roger asked.

“Follow me,” Vanessa said, standing. She walked into her palatial bathroom, which was connected to her office. She felt the rustling of her skirt as her legs flexed back and forth and it added to her confidence. They stood in front of the mirror together. It was amazing how he towered over her. But anyone looking at the pair would not have mistaken who was in charge.

Like a woman possessed, Vanessa grabbed a bar of soap off the counter above the sink. It was brand new and quite sizable. She eyed him in the mirror. “Young man,” Vanessa said. “I can’t think of a more suitable punishment for a big mouth like you than to have your mouth washed out with soap. Now open wide,” she said, holding the soap up near his face.

At first Roger did nothing. He was shocked at these developments. His emotions were all over the map. For a moment, he thought he was going to get laid. Then he was told she just wanted to teach him a lesson about respect. Respect! Please. He felt the anger surge up inside him again. Then he felt something very different. It started as a slight tingling, but soon he felt himself begin to expand in his trousers. It was something about the way she was talking to him. Not to mention the way she moved in that skirt. He couldn’t possibly like it. Could he? He tried to push the thought from his head, but the thought wouldn’t go away. There was something mesmerizing about this chick’s voice. Something about the shine of her lipstick. Her scent. And of course he couldn’t stop imagining what was beneath her skirt. He knew what was beneath her skirt, but it remained out of view and that made her even more desirable.

Her voice brought him out of his trance. “You can either open wide, or you can leave,” Vanessa said. She tapped her pump impatiently on the bathroom tile. “I’m waiting.”

“I’ll stay,” he stammered. As a sign of his submission, he opened his mouth.

“Wider!” she ordered. “And stick out your tongue.” She took firm hold of his chin and pressed a corner of the bar of soap against the inside of his cheek until the other corner of the soap had room to clear his other cheek. She then moved her free hand around the base of his skull so that he couldn’t easily pull away. Then, with a fluid, delightfully satisfying motion, she shoved the bar into his mouth. “Bite down on it,” she said as she continued to push the bar against his mouth.

Roger felt the strong acidic taste invade his mouth. His initial reflex was to spit the soap out, but he knew better than to defy her. Plus he felt a bizarre peacefulness, as though this was all meant to be. He felt himself throb in his pants and hoped she wouldn’t notice. Waves of cognitive dissonance washed over him. He felt almost hypnotized and totally malleable. He wouldn’t move until she told him to.

Vanessa put her hands on her hips. She appraised the boy carefully. This was beautiful. For all her conquests over the male gender she was hard-pressed to come up with a moment that felt any more satisfying. She was on a roll! “I need to make a few phone calls,” she said. “Come stand in front of me so I can keep an eye on you.”

As though in a trance, he followed her into the other room. She plunked her small body into the huge chair and pointed to a spot on the floor a few feet from the chair. “On second hand, I want you to sit beneath me. Don’t sit too close though. Sit right here.”

For the next 15 minutes, Roger sat. He felt dizzy with humiliation and at the same time strangely aroused. His saliva caused the soap to soften and it tasted awful. He began to perspire. When she wasn’t looking, he snuck glances at Vanessa’s legs and her heels.

Finally, when it seemed as though it would never end, she addressed him. “Stand up,” she said. As he stood, so did Vanessa. He felt his pants pressed outwards in the crotch. His balls ached and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. She looked at him and smiled vindictively. For a moment, Roger felt the anger surge up in him. How had he allowed this to happen? Why didn’t he just walk away? He felt powerless. Then he saw her eyes drift downward where they settled on his groin. She looked back at him as though she was about to say something. Instead she smiled, “Give me your hand.”

This time she escorted him by hand back into the bathroom. Together they stood in front of the mirror. Roger had begun drooling from the bottom of his mouth. The saliva was running down his chin. She reached up and mercifully removed the soap from his mouth, placing it daintily in the sink. They eyed each other in the mirror.

“So did you learn your lesson?” she asked.

“Yes, miss,” he stammered weakly. Why was he so fucked up? It was as though he was in a trance.

“I prefer ma’am,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” he corrected himself. Now that the soap was gone he was beginning to regain his bearings. She was angering him again.

“The next time I sense any disrespect from you toward me, or any other woman in this club, I’ll do a much more thorough job of washing your mouth. Believe me. And that’s not all I’ll do,” she said, as she felt intense satisfaction emanating from her nipples and her crotch.

“Yes ma’am,” Roger said. At this point, he just wanted to leave.

“Okay, you can go back to work,” she said. “And take your soap with you,” she added. “In fact, I want you to carry it with you at all times in case you’re in need of further correction.” God she was good at this! She could sense he was angry, and that made it even better.

She watched as he left without a word.

THE END