He pulls onto their street and sees her car. He's happy to see she got home first and will be waiting for him. She greets him at the door, wearing her collar and the cute little dress he told to put on when she got home. His tension begins to drain away at the sight of her. She takes his coat, offers him a drink. He's home.
These moments are what he looks forward to all day. When he can leave the stress of work behind and be himself with her. When he can be served. When he can command and be obeyed. When he gets to possess the beautiful woman standing in front of him.
She serves dinner. They eat, talk about their days. It's a nice, normal couple evening. Except, he's told her to wear her collar tonight. Watching her eat, listening to her talk about her day, seeing her in her collar adds another dimension to the evening. They both know how the night is going to end and he controls when it happens. The feeling is exhilarating and he intends to enjoy stretching it out for as long as possible.
They are in the living room. He's reading. She's on her computer. He doesn't notice when she puts her computer down. He's dimly aware of her walking around the room. When she slips her dress off, he notices. Pretending not to, he focuses on his book. He doesn't intend to let her know she grabbed his attention so easily. He won't give her the satisfaction.
She begins walking around the room. She makes a production of bending over to pick something up. Little coughs and sighs escape her lips. His lust is building but he doesn't act yet. He gets to decide when she receives his attention. He gets to decide when something happens. He lets this game go on for another half hour. He sneaks occasional glances at her and is pleased to see frustration beginning to show on her face. He can't help smiling ever so slightly. Finally, he acts.
"Did I give you permission to take your dress off, little girl?" The most innocent voice responds. "No, Daddy." He sets his book down, stares at her intently. "Bring your ass over her right now." She hurries over wiggling that ass as she walks. She kneels in front of him. Naked but for a collar eyes looking up at him. She is beautiful. She is his.
He punishes her. He uses her for his pleasure. She eagerly submits to all of it. She serves all his needs and follows all his orders. When it's over, he is content. He is happy. He is home.
They lie in bed. He holds her close to him, stroking her hair. Holding her brings him a comfort he can't describe. He thinks back on the day. He knows she works hard just like him. Deals with the same struggles, the same frustrations. He knows she must come home tired just like him. Yet she chooses to serve him. She takes on this task to make his life better. He doesn't know why he was fortunate enough to find her. He is grateful beyond words that she is his.
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She was glad she got home first today. She likes to be able to get ready before he gets there. While she gets a thrill whenever he puts her collar on for her, she gets a special pleasure out of preparing herself for him. She likes being able to greet him already in her submissive state. Collar and all.
She undresses as slowly as time permits. She savors the feeling of shedding the responsibilities of the day. She takes off her job, her mundane chores, the minor inconveniences. As she dresses in the outfit he chose for her, she puts on the role of his submissive.
A small flutter in her stomach when she hears his car pull up. She hurries to the door. Greets him and helps him get settled. She looked forward to this all day. The way he looks at her. The way he embraces her. She feels safe. She feels cared for. She is home.
She serves dinner. She loves listening to him talk. She loves the way she listens. She loves the feel of the collar around her neck and what it means for the evening ahead. She doesn't know exactly what is going to happen or when. She doesn't have to know. They are his responsibility. She is free from those concerns. Although that doesn't mean she won't try to speed things along if she can.
They are in the living room. She enjoys the comfortable silence. She enjoys his presence as she reads emails, checks the news, and amuses herself online. Soon she grows restless. Not an anxious, negative restless. An excited, anticipatory restlessness. If he is going to make her wait, she is going to have some fun.
She stands and walks around the room, trying to catch is eye. She slips her dress off and lets it fall in the middle of the floor. She does all the little things that turn him on. She knows him well and she is proud of her expertise in this.
It feels like this game goes on for an eternity. She feels frustration but not anger. It's the frustration of one who is losing a game that they sorely want to win. She is still enjoying the game. She dares to steal another glance at him and sees the slightest hint of a smile. She suppresses a laugh. He thinks she hasn't seen. He thinks she doesn't know what he's up to. He can be very silly sometimes. Finally, he acts.
Feigned innocence when he confronts her. A sassy wiggle to her rear when she approaches him. When she kneels before him though... Then she is her truly submissive self. She takes her punishment (she does deserve it) and she joyfully lets go as he takes her. She does not make decisions. She does not think. She acts. She is blissful. She is home.
The lie in bed, his arms around her. She presses against him as closely as she can. She is safe here. She is cared for. She thinks about their day. She knows he works hard just like her. He bears the same responsibilities, faces the same obstacles. She knows he must come home weary just like her. Yet he chooses to take responsibility. He chooses to lead. He carries that burden to give her comfort and safety. She doesn't know why she was fortunate enough to find him. She is grateful beyond words that he is hers.
