Turning up her nose at the waitress, she gave the girl her best withering stare.
“I said, romaine lettuce, didn’t I? What is this…iceberg?”
The young waitress, deer-in-the-headlights look plastered across her face, looked around frantically for the support that was nowhere to be found.
“Take it back this instant!” she commanded, turning her head away from the inexcusably incompetent, yet pretty girl.
That is what riled her up the most…how pretty that waitress was. She looked so innocent, fresh, her ponytail bouncing around behind her like an invitation. To be that young again.
With the girl gone, silence fell around them. She glanced at her husband, her manager, whose unwavering stare began to unnerve her.
“My, my,” he said, raising his eyebrow, giving her the “look”. “Aren’t we in a mood today?”
She tried to ignore him, but his tone had her squirming in her seat like a naughty child. She knew that look.
“Jessica, look at me “, he commanded, his tone hard as steel.
She mustered up the courage to make eye contact with this hulk of a man, confused by how he could instantly strip away her fame, her accomplishments, her confidence with only a few stern words.
He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to take her chin.
“You will behave yourself, young lady,” he said, coolly, staring her down until she looked away.
He dropped her chin, noting the blush that settled across her beautiful face.
Their meal was quiet after his warning. She did muster up a “thank you” to the waitress before they left, hoping to redeem herself.
As they left the restaurant, the cameras flashed as hungry reporters shouted out questions hoping to glean some nugget of information that might rise their own fame.
If they only knew.
On the drive home, his hand firmly on her knee, they drove in silence. Out in the real world, it was she that was star of the show. Glamorous, successful, highly sought after…she was, a celebrity.
However, at home, when the crowd fell away and it was just the two of them, that all changed. In the privacy of their home, she was his little girl. She belonged to him. She was owned.
Inside, he pointed to their bedroom, and said only, “go”.
She obediently took herself to their bedroom, removing all her clothes except her panties. She knew where he expected her to be and without hesitation, she put herself in the corner, arms clasped behind her back, a picture of submission.
When he entered the room, she heard him inhale deeply. The site of her, clad only in the skimpiest of panties, took his breath away. Somehow, someway, this Goddess of a woman belonged to him, and only him.
He went to her closet and removed the thick strap that hung there as a reminder to her each morning. Removing his shirt, he walked up behind her until the hair on his chest just barely grazed her bare shoulders.
“You are mine, Jessica,” he whispered, reaching his arm around her, finger tips slowly teasing their way across her stomach.
All she could do was shiver beneath his touch, his words resonating truth within her.
Taking her by the arm, he led her to the foot of the bed.
“Do you know why I am disciplining you today?” he asked her, sternly.
“Yes Sir,” she said, blushing, staring at the carpet.
“Tell me,” he responded.
“I was rude to that waitress,” she whispered.
“Yes, you were rude to the waitress,” he replied. “But that is not all. I saw the way you were looking at her, Jessica, the jealousy in your eyes. Let me say this again and I hope that you hear me this time. She is not a threat to you. No woman is a threat to you. You are the only woman I have eyes for, the only woman who takes my breath away. Just you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she responded, head bowed in contrition.
Tearing down all of her walls with just his stare, he motioned her over the footboard.
Obediently, she leaned over, hips raised high, face pressed against the comforter, toes barely touching the floor.
He stepped forward and in one swift moment, her panties now decorated her ankles, leaving her bottom bare for discipline. He allowed himself a moment to admire this woman, his woman, bent over his bed submissively, her bare backside waiting for his punishment. He knew that her face may belong to the world, but here, she belonged only to him.
Determined to reinforce his dominance of this woman, he stepped back, raised his right arm and allowed his strap to sear down across her backside. Her cry of pain hardened his cock as he was already raising his arm for the next stroke. Again and again his strap visited her naked backside until it was an angry red and she was sobbing into the covers, full of remorse for her misbehavior. Not once did she try to evade his discipline but remained in place, proving her acceptance of his ownership.
After her spanking, he returned the strap to its place in her closet. He sat down, admiring the flaming colors of her backside and thought to himself that she never looked more beautiful than she did after he had thoroughly chastised her.
“Come here,” he ordered, watching her immediately rise from her place over the footboard. She came to him, dropping to a kneel, bowing her head.
“Do you have something to say to me?” he asked her, stroking his chin as he looked down on her.
“Thank you for disciplining me, Sir,” she said, tears still streaking her cheeks.
“You are welcome, little one, “he said, leaning forward, wiping her tears away.
When her crying ceased, he ordered her to open her mouth. She immediately complied, kneeling before him, mouth forming an “O”, waiting for what was to come.
Undoing his jeans, he slid his hardened cock out and guided her mouth down around his shaft. Taking a fist full of her hair, he fucked her mouth until he felt himself about to explode. Pulling out of her mouth and dragging her back to the bed by her hair, she was once again pushed down over the headboard, her well-spanked bottom raised for his punishing cock. He thrust into her upturned bottom vigorously until his orgasm consumed him.
It took minutes for him to catch his breath. They remained coupled, bent over the footboard, until he finally rose.
Giving her a gentle slap on the ass, he said, “Be dressed and ready to go in 20 minutes. You have an interview with Marie Claire magazine. Wear your red dress. No panties.”
That evening, clad in only her red dress, sitting on a sore behind with the taste of her husband still in her mouth, Jessica did her best not to squirm in her chair.
When the host said to her, “You and your husband are one of the happiest couples in Hollywood. What is the trick to balancing your life as a celebrity with your home life?” all she could think was, if they only knew.