“How?”
“Do you really want me to show you?” His eyebrow arched up as If I didn’t quite understand how consequential my assent was going to be. I must admit a ripple of fear shivered through my body and instantaneously goosebumps lined my torso like a field of wheat that had suddenly germinated.
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 loving, intelligent, supportive, hard-working, and well-off financially. He was absolutely devoted to me and had shared a secret with me that he’d never dared tell another soul.
It was the day after our engagement and we’d been sitting on the couch watching television. His fidgeting had become so pronounced I’d finally asked, “What’s wrong?”
He stammered momentarily, his voice almost a whisper he finally said, “Look, I love you more than anyone, but I have to let you know something before you commit to me. 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 quickly told me otherwise.
My skin crawled as we walked down the creaky wooden stairs into his poorly lit, cold concrete-floored basement. Under the stairs, he pointed to a stack of boxes and a purple Converse duffle bag sitting on top.
“What?” I asked, not wanting his ‘dirty secret’ revealed, but asking nonetheless.
“Open them and see how weird I am before deciding I am what you really want” I scooched past him hesitantly and reached for the bag as if it might bite. It was so quiet with him watching me and that the zipper sounded nearly piercing as I unzipped the bag. Looking in with confusion, there wasn’t a gun or something horrific as I’d been led to believe, only a number of haphazard videotapes from a bygone era. I picked a few up still trying to grasp what was going on. They were labeled with terms unfamiliar to me 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 over 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 and put the tape in the player, I heard his nervous, raspy breath reaching a feverish pitch. The once familiar hum of the VCR tape whirled into action and the screen lit up. A tanned woman raced onto the stage in a pink suit, placed her palm to her forehead, bent down, pointed one foot behind her, and froze in the position until the music commenced. Her arm swelled like I envisioned a strong man’s might, her bent leg bulged with lines carved on the side while her pointed foot revealed a calf split in two. I stared in awe. I’d heard of female bodybuilders, but never really taken notice.
Hot lights poured down on her from above as she hit pose after pose. Despite her brawny build and honed physique suggested not only an incredible level of strength but an intensity to her diet; her pert breasts strained upward seeming to defy gravity. I almost laughed when I saw her proud, taut nipples which looked as if she has teased them backstage before she’d run out.
But I couldn’t, there was something about this he wanted me to see, and the video was somehow oddly erotic. So instead I watched quietly feeling the tension from Jack. Her skin glistened under the intense lights, muscles roiling as she danced across the stage, her blonde curly locks bouncing and a permanent grin glued to her face. She just curves, muscles, and silky skin. I didn’t comment on the video, still confused 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 continued her routine I pried open the box lid. I was greeted by dozens of muscle magazines. I opened another and saw the same thing. Fingering through them I noticed that WPW must have referred to Women’s Physique World which were contained in one box neatly ordered by date. A golden tanned brunette in a skin-tight purple dress, that looked like it was sprayed on, turned sideways and proudly displayed her bulging bicep. 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.”
“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 pled, turning toward him and taking his hands in mine
“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. I didn’t mind working out — It was actually invigorating, but there was some pressure put on my workouts now. We had worked through his embarrassment regarding his feelings, but it was hard on me as well because I felt the pressure to get bigger and there was nobody to talk to about how Jack felt. It was so personal for him and he’d entrusted his secret with me.
Until the night when we were laying on the bed and he demonstrated how to be dominant. How he wanted me to be dominant I hadn’t realized there was more. His fantasy wasn’t just to have sex with a muscle woman and feel them out like he did with me when we had intercourse. He wanted to be absolutely submissive toward them. Or, I should say, to me. He ached for me to be the dominant muscle woman of his dreams. I guess I should have been flattered, but instead, I felt pressure to get bigger, stronger, and perform a part. When he showed me how to behave that night as the domme it was both erotic and a little scary.
“Yes, I want you to show me.” I’d said with more confidence. 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 scared me. I looked at him trying to read his face and judged it to be part of the role play so I played along.
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Very sorry.” Suddenly a thwapp resounded through the air and I felt intense pain in my glutes. 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.
“Sorry, Master.” his emphasis on the second word. “Do not forget again to end every 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, get down and do twenty-five pushups and then apologize to me.” I quickly fell to the floor and started in. I felt his eyes boring through my naked body so I went deep focusing on form.
Eight reps in he called out, with disappointment ringing in his voice, “Start again. Make sure your nipples touch the floor.”
“Sorry master,” I grunted, beginning again pushing deep with each rep, focusing on my nipples as they brushed across the floor. Above me he watched me like a hawk, focusing I was sure, on his favorite body part on me, my wide, cut back. I finished and got to my knees, looking at him earnestly waiting for the next instruction.
“Get up and stand in front of me.” I found myself getting wet as I continued in the role, relishing a change from our traditional sex routine. He didn’t fail to notice.
“You will do three sets of those each day from now on until you can beat my record for sixty-three.”
“Yes, master.”
“Now tease your nipples and finger fuck yourself while I watch.” I was traditionally shy about such things, but I went right to work.
“Come closer,” he whispered. I inched closer and he began fondling my legs as I continued masturbating, intense flames of desire shooting through me. I flexed and the muscles bulged under his grip and I saw approval flash across his face. The idea that I was pleasuring him while I was pleasuring myself brought me near the edge.
Suddenly, he commanded, “stop.” Every fiber of my being wanted to continue, but I froze, actually scared and I stopped.
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, trying not to let the disappointment seep into my voice.
“You never go before I do. Pleasure my cock. His hard, red, throbbing cock stood at attention. It was something that I rarely did, lacking the confidence in the practice, but I slid atop him and began.
I cupped his balls in one hand while my tongue tickled the tip of his shaft. I hissed “yes, Master,” repeatedly kissing his tip with my full, pouty lips. Switching gears I deepened his pleasure by sucking diligently and feeling him close in on release. His pleasure boosted my confidence and I brought him deep inside my mouth. I gave him the lollipop treatment bringing him in and out of my mouth sucking hard. What part of his long shaft I couldn’t bring inside I squeezed, coaxing the juices to flow. I flexed my right arm and felt him fondle it. My mouth curled into a smile over his big cock as my tongue swirled over him and I drew him in and out faster and faster. He erupted inside me and I sucked his juices down.
“That was well done, servant,” he whispered, “well done.” My whole body was crying to explode in orgasm and I needed him inside me.
“I promise to get stronger than you really soon, Master. Please can I have you? Please?”
“Make it so,” he smiled, as I climbed atop him and thrust him inside me. “Flex your tiny muscles for me.” He commanded.
“I’m sorry, I’ll make them bigger, harder, and stronger. Stronger than you ever were and I’ll punish you for being weak.” I knew I was leaving character, but he needed me to say it. I rode atop him feeling his hardness swell inside of me once again as I told him how strong I was going to be. “Bigger, stronger, harder” I repeated until I came as hard as I had in ages, throwing my head around in ecstasy as he squirted again inside me as well.
“It better be really soon, servant. I don’t think you understand how much I need that to happen.” He whispered.
“Sorry, yes very soon Master,” I moaned, still feeling the tingling transpire throughout me. I lay next to him periodically kissing him and snuggling him with my cheek. The experience had been magical and I’d already decided I needed to be the sub more often. It was a new experience and it had set me to greater heights of ecstasy.
“I don’t know if I have that 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 told me about his unabiding devotion to powerfully muscular women and hinted that he wanted to submissive, I hadn’t realized how overwhelming his need truly was.
I guess I could have read the tea leaves. In fact, it was truly a lot easier than that. It was as if the puzzle was already put together with just a few pieces remaining. I thought it had been a game. He let me know he wanted me to be stronger, but I thought it was part of our sex games. He was a 6’3 athletic male who had trained his whole life. How could a woman six inches shorter ever get stronger unless I used?
Yet his actions had matched his words. He’d stopped lifting when I hit the weight room and switched to cardio. He always wanted me to ride him cowboy style when we’d had sex and he’d whisper to me about how strong I was and how weak he was in comparison. It suddenly dawned on me, it wasn’t just play talk in bed. He desperately wanted me to be stronger in bed and outright dominate him. The weight of the revelation suddenly 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 needed to believe. It was important to him. “But I’ll get there.”
He smiled back. 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