The Undertow Chapter 5: Strength
By Trixie Adara
“What do you want to feel?” asked Victoria.
Antonio’s breathing was ragged. He knew she was naked under that thin black robe. She was teasing him, sitting across from him with her legs crossed, the glass of wine he brought her dangling in her raised hand. She looked like a queen on a throne, and each inch the robe climbed up her thigh made Antonio’s heart pound harder.
“Pathetic,” he whispered. Surely, she knew the answer already. It was all he ever wanted to feel lately. He spent each day wondering when she would strike, when the lioness would pounce and pin him.
“Again?” she said with a smirk. “You must realize at some point, all this begging to feel pathetic makes you perfectly pathetic, right?”
Antonio’s cock twitched. He loved when she talked to him this way. She stood and put down her glass of wine. Victoria slunk across the room, her blonde and wavy hair in a bun like a crown. Antonio’s eyes drank her in: her thick hips, her careful steps, her sleek heels, her strong shoulders, her large breasts, her look of determination. His eyes darted everywhere but never wandered from his queen. She commanded his body and attention. He was hers, helplessly hers.
Victoria leaned over Antonio as he sat in his chair and whispered in his ear, “And I bet realizing what a pathetic little bitch you are makes you hard, doesn’t it?”
Antonio whimpered, and Victoria laughed and stood up. “Strip,” she commanded as she walked out of the room, picking up her glass of wine on the way.
Antonio didn’t hesitate to obey. In a flash he tore off his apron, tie, shirt, shoes, and slacks. His pants were around his knees when he realized that Victoria wouldn’t approve of him wrinkling all his clothes. She wanted speed, but she always wanted efficiency and obedience. Antonio slowed his pace and carefully folded his clothes. He placed them delicately in the chair next to him and sat back down in his seat, naked and hard.
“Pet?” asked Victoria from upstairs.
“Yes?” he shouted back.
“Come,” she commanded, and Antonio obeyed. He moved quickly, fighting the urge to outright run, climbing two steps at a time. When he reached the bedroom, Victoria was standing in front of a large wooden chest. She pointed to it and drained the last of her wine.
“Take that downstairs,” she said, then walked past him, returning to the living room. Antonio went to lift the chest, but he had to put it back down, accidentally dropping it on his toe and cursing.
“It’s heavy,” trailed in Victoria’s voice from down the stairs.
“Yes, ma’am,” grunted Antonio, and he bent his knees, this time more cautious of what he was hauling. He carried it out of the hallway and to the stairs, stopping a few times to put it down and catch his breath. It took him five minutes to get it down the stairs and into the living room where Victoria waited, her glass of wine refilled. Antonio put it down with a thud, grunted, and took a moment to catch his breath.
“You okay?” asked Victoria, standing up, concerned.
“Fine,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”
“Yeah, sorry,” muttered Victoria. She put down her glass of wine and went to Antonio’s side. “Where does it hurt?”
“Nowhere. It’s just fucking heavy, you know?”
“Right. Sorry,” said Victoria.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Right.”
The awkward moment filled the room like something rotting. Eventually, Antonio caught his breath and sat back in his chair as a sign he was ready to continue.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“Glad you asked,” said Victoria. She smiled, but Antonio could tell she wasn’t feeling it. All at once the domme in the sheer black robe was just his Victoria, the awkward girl he’d known for forever. She was nervous and flustered; all of her poise was gone.
She opened the chest and revealed a dungeon’s worth of rope, straps, playthings, floggers, paddles, cuffs, etc. Antonio held his breath as he looked from the treasure chest to his wife, back and forth.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“I do like to shop,” she admitted, biting her lip.
“How much did all this cost?” asked Antonio.
“You can afford it,” said Victoria. She tried to sound strong and condescending, but Antonio could hear her nerves. She was worried she’d spent too much, gone overboard, and upset him.
“Was it from your allowance?” asked Antonio. He wanted to be gentle. He really did. He could read the signs, but there was no way they could afford to stock an entire dungeon on top of all their bills and her new allowance. Was this new phase going to bankrupt them?
“These are for you, not me,” she said. “It only makes sense for you to pay for them.”
“What?” snapped Antonio. “Honey, we can’t afford —”
“Do you want to feel pathetic or not?” interrupted Victoria.
Antonio hesitated. These past few weeks had been intense and incredible. He felt like he had his wife back, but things were better than before. Was he really going to throw all this away for money? What did it matter? He could find things to cut back on, sure. No problem. He’d make it work.
Victoria pointed down at Antonio’s soft cock. “Guess not,” she said and sat down in a huff. “Shit,” she muttered, and drained her glass of wine.
Antonio hesitated. He didn’t want this to end. Most days she teased him or hinted at what she wanted to do with him, but she rarely played with him. He wanted this. What did he need to do to keep it going?
Antonio approached his wife and sank to his knees slowly. He kissed the top of her knees gently and whispered, “Please. I need this.”
Victoria put down her glass of wine and leaned forward. She lifted Antonio’s chin and looked into her husband’s eyes. “Need what?” she asked.
“I need to feel this way.”
“What way is that? Say it.”
“I need to feel pathetic.”
Victoria smirked, and Antonio melted. There she was. Just under the surface of anxiety and self-doubt was his domme. She was always there. He needed to remind himself.
“Yes, you do,” she said. “Go get in your chair.”
Antonio obeyed while Victoria rose and went to the toybox. She pulled out a long strand of red rope and let it run through her hands. She took a deep breath and turned to her husband.
“Put your hands out, wrists up and together.”
Antonio’s heart beat faster as he obeyed. Casually, she walked over to him and began wrapping his arms with the rope. As she looped through the first time and tugged hard, he let out a whimper. All nervousness fled from his body. He imagined himself covered in bright red lines, helpless and at her disposal. Pathetic. That was the word. Yes, he wanted her to make him pathetic.
Victoria moved quickly and confidently. It only took a few more loops and his arms were bound together. His hands were completely out of his control.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“Good,” he whispered.
“Not too tight?”
“No. Perfect.”
“You can’t escape? Try.”
Antonio pulled his hands back and forth, trying to escape. It was too tight. He shook his head. “I can’t escape.”
“Good,” she said. “Blood flow is fine?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Wordlessly, Victoria took the long stretch of rope and moved it to Antonio’s knees. She forced his knees together and began to wrap the rope behind and between them, looping them several times and then back on each other.
“You’ve been practicing,” said Antonio. This was nothing like the first time she tied him up. This was almost a different woman completely.
“I have.”
“With who?”
Victoria smiled, rose a bit, and kissed Antonio on the lips. “What if it was my big cocked lover that fucked me like you fucked Trina?”
Antonio felt the blood swirl in his body. It drained from his face and fingers. It ran to his cock and neck. He felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo as he imagined his wife fucked by another man, stronger and larger than him. He’d deserve it. He knew he would. But he couldn’t figure out how something could repulse and intrigue him all at once. What was happening to him?
Victoria bit his lip and laughed, pulling away. “Oh, babe,” she laughed. “That’s one box this Pandora won’t open.” She ran a hand along his cheek. “Though you would feel pretty pathetic if a big stud fucked your wife in front of you, wouldn’t you?”
Antonio moaned. He burned with shame from the moan, but he moaned nonetheless. The shame turned him on and being turned on fed his shame. His head spun and vision blurred. He knew he would give it to her. If she asked, no matter how much it scared him, he would give it to her.
“Don’t worry, pet,” she said. “I’m all for you, and you are all for me. I don’t share well.” She kissed him.
Antonio nodded and went back to watching his wife. The rope slid gracefully over his skin. Each touch was electric. It promised much and hinted at more. What would she do with him once he was immobilized? What position did she want him in? Why did she want him that way?
“How’s that?” she asked after a final tug.
“Good.”
“Try to escape.”
Antonio tried, flexing his legs and pulling them apart. The rope fell harmlessly to the ground around his feet in a puddle of red.
“I was afraid of that,” said Victoria, but she went back to work retying the knots. Antonio tried to relax, to lean back in the chair, but as soon as he did, she yanked down on the rope. His torso followed his arms, and he flung forward to look down at his beautiful, controlling wife.
“Eyes here,” she commanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She tugged on the rope again. “How’s that?” she asked.
“Let me try.” Antonio spread his legs, and again, the rope fell down around his feet.
“Shit,” she hissed. She began to pull the rope back. It bit and clawed as it slid over his skin. She undid the whole thing, stood, and pulled on the rope, forcing Antonio to his feet.
“Here, you need to stand. I learned how to do this on someone standing.”
“Okay,” said Antonio, following her lead.
“Here, raise one foot.” Antonio tried to obey, but he was clearly doing something wrong. He was upsetting her. “Bend the knee,” she commanded. Antonio tried to kneel. Clearly, that upset her. “Just one knee. Put all your weight on one leg.” Antonio tried to obey, but he lost his balance and wobbled to the right, having to put his foot back down to catch himself.
“Jesus!” shouted Victoria. “If you can’t stand on one fucking leg then we can’t do this.” Victoria stood, dropped the rope, and slammed the treasure chest. “Maybe you can earn it another day,” she mumbled as she climbed the stairs. Antonio couldn’t see it, but he could hear that she was crying.
He stood there, frustrated and confused, with his wrists bound together and naked. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. His first thought was to follow after her, but then he wondered if he should respect her space. Maybe the last thing she wanted was to look at him. He looked down at his wrists. It was a complicated network of loops and knots. He had no idea how to begin untying it, let alone how she constructed it in the first place. It was impressive.
He wished Victoria knew how impressive she was.
Antonio took a deep breath. He let his mind wander over the past few weeks. Yes, it’s been incredible. His wife suddenly turned into this sexual dynamo, the woman of his dreams. But that was the problem. They were his dreams. Each fantasy was about him and for him. How often had he truly thought about what Victoria wanted in all of this? He assumed she wanted the sex and the attention, but even thinking the thought made him disgusted with himself.
He had spent all his time enjoying being controlled, that he never thought to serve. That was the problem. Things were entirely out of balance, but he could address that. If he wanted Victoria to feel powerful, he could help her. He could make a space for her power. He could make these fantasies about her and her pleasure, not him.
Antonio climbed the steps, following his wife quietly. Even from the stairs, he could hear the sound of her crying from her bedroom. Victoria was not a quiet sufferer. When she cried, the whole house was filled with wailing and moaning. He felt a stab of guilt. She tried to be powerful for him, for his fantasies, and now she was crying over that. How did he twist this up so badly?
He crept towards her bedroom door and knocked gently. “Go away,” said Victoria. “Leave me alone.”
“I want to help,” he said.
“Just go watch some porn and jack off,” she hissed.
“Well, you’ve taken away the use of my hands.” Antonio laughed nervously. “So that would be an interesting challenge.”
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” said Victoria. The door flung open. Victoria was no longer in her sheer black robe. She was in a white bathrobe. Her makeup was messy, and she wiped snot away from her nose before approaching the knots.
“Sorry,” she whispered as she worked.
“It’s okay,” said Antonio. “Really, it’s all okay.” Victoria worked quickly. Soon it was only a matter of taking the long strands of rope and unlooping it over and over. “You should be proud,” said Antonio. “There is no way I was ever getting out of these.”
“Thanks,” muttered Victoria. She finished and handed the wadded up pile of rope back to her husband. “There.” She stepped away to close the door, but Antonio followed and put his body between the door and the latch.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“I want to be alone right now.”
“Right, but I think the most dangerous place right now is between your ears.” Antonio playfully tapped her temple like he’d done a dozen times when they dated.
She smiled despite herself.
“Seriously,” he added. “We can talk. Safe space. I promise.”
“Fine.” She sighed and opened the door wide, letting him in. She moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, turning to face him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this isn’t the evening you had planned.”
“I had nothing planned for the evening. Seriously. You distracted me from another long and boring night watching television.”
“Well,” she said with a smirk, “at least you still got your drama in.”
Antonio moved close to her, falling lightly to his knees as he approached. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I feel stupid,” she said.
“You’re learning. We both are. I don’t think there’s a rulebook for this stuff.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Antonio smiled. “Well, even with a rulebook, people still make mistakes.”
“I just …” she sighed and turned away from him, looking out the bedroom window. “I just wanted to meet your request. You wanted to feel pathetic and I … and I …”
Antonio turned her head to look into his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. “You messing up a knot doesn’t break that spell over me. When the ropes are on me, I feel pathetic. I promise.”
“Well, I’m sure all this crying is really doing it for you.”
“I don’t doubt you’ll find a way to disqualify yourself no matter what I say.”
“Sounds like me,” she sighed.
The silence buzzed around them. They hadn’t spoken about their feelings in months. For a while after Trina, it was fighting all the time. It was hurt and anger. There was crying, there was apologizing, but it was like treating a cut from a broken leg and ignoring the bone. Even when Victoria changed the dynamic in the household, they didn’t open up about themselves. They played their role. It was hot. It was a new form of silence, this one with masks and pre-written lines.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
Antonio sighed. “You need to stop doing that.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m the one that should be apologizing.” Victoria looked up at him, intrigued. “In all this roleplay, I’ve completely forgotten to play my role.”
“How do you mean?”
“We spend way too much worried about how I want to feel. If you’re the one in control, shouldn’t it be more focused on what you want?”
“Sorry.” Victoria broke eye contact.
“No. Listen.” Antonio lowered himself, catching her eyes again. “That’s exactly it. It’s not your job to take control. It’s my job to give control. I should work harder to help you feel strong, not the other way around.”
“If I can’t make myself feel strong, how are you supposed to help me?”
“By offering my subservience.” Antonio spread the bottom of Victoria’s bathrobe. He began to trail tiny kisses over her knees and the bottom of her thighs.
“I want to make you feel that,” she said. “But I can’t provide it.”
“What I’m learning,” said Antonio as he continued to kiss. “Is that.” Kiss. “I don’t need your help.” Kiss. “To feel submissive.” Kiss. “I am.” Kiss. “Without a doubt.” Kiss. “Absolutely submissive.” Kiss. “With or without you.”
Antonio looked back into her eyes. “I’d just rather be submissive with you.” Victoria’s somber expression cracked into a smile. Antonio grabbed her hands and held them together in his own hands. “I will serve you even when you don’t feel strong.”
Victoria nodded. She could see the shift in Antonio’s posture. In this moment, he was submissive, but he wasn’t weak. He wasn’t pathetic. In this moment, he was strong. He was on his knees before his lady, before his queen. He was a knight offering his strength, not his weakness. In that moment, Victoria wanted to devour him, not destroy him. She wanted to kiss him and drink deeply from his lips. She felt strength swell in her as he gave it to her. The stronger he was, the more he gave that strength in service to her, the stronger she became.
“We’ve been asking the wrong questions,” he said. “You keep asking how I want to feel, but that shouldn’t be nearly as important as how you want to feel. Right?’
Victoria nodded.
“Then how do you want to feel?”
“In control.”
“Yes, my love.” Antonio began kissing her knees again. He lowered his kisses quickly, kissing her shin and moving down to her right foot. Victoria responded with sighs, spreading her legs slightly. Antonio started with light kisses on the top of her foot but moved to tiny kisses on each of her toes. They were cute in their bright pink nail polish. Victoria’s right foot even had a toe ring on the middle toe.
He’d never appreciated that his wife had beautiful feet before, but she did. They were delicate and adorable. With each kiss, Victoria sighed more, arching her back and leaning back onto the bed. Antonio smiled, enjoying the effect he had on her. As he kissed, Victoria peeled off her bathrobe revealing her smooth and soft body.
Quickly, Antonio slipped into that familiar headspace. He was hard, and thoughts were gone. Worry was gone. All he wanted to do was make her feel good. All he wanted was to be used. He wanted to feel pathetic, but he found a new desire in that space now: the desire to serve. He wanted to make Victoria feel good. He wanted to take care of her. She became the focus of his energy and body.
Antonio’s kisses became heavier and heavier. He kissed the bottom of Victoria’s foot. At first, she giggled from his soft lips, but laughter quickly melted into muffled moans. Kisses became nibbles. Lips were replaced with tongues and teeth. Antonio found the space between toes. He discovered the delight of sucking on toes. He burned to go further, to do more. He delighted in imagining himself on his knees, worshipping his wife’s feet. Victoria’s moans spurred him on, encouraging his service.
“Switch,” commanded Victoria, and Antonio did not hesitate to obey. Her tone was new and sharp. It was primal, feral, as she took control of the room.
Victoria threw her head back, her moans filling the room as Antonio worshipped her other foot.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “Holy shit.”
Antonio stayed silent. This was about her, not him. His hardness didn’t matter. His pleasure didn’t matter. He wanted her to feel powerful, invincible. The stronger she was, the more submissive he felt. He could fall into his place easily as long as he helped her claim her place.
Victoria sat up. She grabbed Antonio’s hair. “Lick,” she commanded and pulled Antonio’s face into her smooth pussy. She moved her hips to the edge of the bed and thrust them out for him. Antonio didn’t hesitate to obey.
As he tasted her, he dropped deeper into subspace tasting how wet she was. She loved it. It was a new pleasure for him, to delight purely in how much he turned her on rather than how much she turned him on. His erection still didn’t matter. She loved to see him serve. She loved to see him pathetic. That was all that mattered to him. He had done his duty.
“Slower,” she commanded, and Antonio obeyed. He followed each instruction. Slower. Deeper. Faster. Not the clit. Just the lips. Longer strokes. Just the outside. Good. Pressure. Not the clit. Not yet. Long strokes. Slow strokes. Careful. Faster. More. Deeper. The clit. Spread the lips. Good. Faster. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
She held his hair the entire time, directing him, controlling him. She had exactly what she wanted and nothing else. In that moment, they were one flesh, one machine, driven by her. He was an extension of her will, a tool for her pleasure. His pleasure was her pleasure. All things were her pleasure. There was no doubt. No second-guessing. He offered, and she took. She wanted, and she took. She took, and he moaned. She took, and he was hard. She took, and he felt small. He felt small, and it made him hard.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.” She squeezed the sides of his head tightly with her thighs as pleasure overtook her. “Use your fingers.” Antonio quickly kept licking the lips and fingered her. “On the clit,” she corrected, and he obeyed. He ran his fingers over her clit quickly. She threw her head back, her whole body falling backwards. Her hands slipped from his hair and ran up her body, grabbing the sheets.
“Tell me you love me,” she commanded.
“I love you,” he said through a mouthful of pussy.
“You’ve only loved me”
“I’ve only loved you.”
“Yes, oh God, yes!”
Victoria grabbed Antonio’s hand and flung it away from her pussy. She pushed his head away. Her body went rigid as she grabbed the sheets of the bed. Her body shivered as her orgasm took her. Antonio sat back, watching his wife, his queen, celebrate her power. He wiped her juices from his chin and smiled. He had done well. It felt so good to do well.
“Come here,” commanded Victoria, reaching her hand out for her husband. Antonio took it, and she pulled him onto the bed with her. He cuddled up against her as her thighs continued to quiver.
Victoria didn’t have any commands for him. He held her until they both were too cold to keep cuddling this way. They went back to their own bedrooms and fell asleep, but neither of them could stop thinking about what had just happened, about what they had been through.
Yet, despite all their thinking, they were too distracted with terms like domme and sub. Neither of them realized that it was the first time they had touched each other like that as husband and wife for months. Even before Trina, there was a long season apart from passion which they now discovered, not in the roles they played, but in the roles, they were becoming.