Mark walked through the front door, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew what lay in store for him tonight; it was the same thing that had filled countless evenings before it. His wife, Megan, stood in the kitchen, her arms folded across her chest, an impish grin forming on her lips as she watched him remove his shoes and shuffle towards her.
"What did you do now?" Mark asked warily.
Megan laughed coyly, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh nothing much, just thought we'd mix things up a bit tonight," she replied, her voice low and seductive.
Mark felt a knot forming in his stomach as he followed her down the hallway to their bedroom. He knew all too well what she considered a "mix-up." She'd taken to controlling him in their intimate moments, demanding to be the one in charge. To him, it was arousing as hell; to everyone else, it was degrading and pathetic.
She motioned for him to lie down on the bed and he obliged, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Megan straddled him, her fingernails drawing light circles on his chest as she looked down at him with a predatory grin. "You know what I want," she purred, her blazing emerald eyes boring into his soul.
"Yes, Megan," Mark rasped out, feeling a hot flush creep up his neck as he imagined her taking a shit onto his face.
Without further ado, Megan leaned over and slapped him hard across the cheek, the sting of her palm barely registering through his arousal. "Be grateful for what I'm about to do to you," she spat, her tone harsh and commanding.
Mark nodded furiously, his eyes glued to her ass as it swayed invitingly above him. Megan grabbed a nearby stack of magazines and began to tear through them viciolently, her rage palpable. She finished by hurling the torn-up pieces at his face, the sharp edges of paper digging into his cheeks.
"Tell me how pathetic you are," Megan ordered, her voice cold and devoid of emotion.
Mark's mouth was parched; he cleared his throat and forced the words out. "I'm pathetic," he whispered hoarsely.
And with that, Megan leaned forward and violently shoved her ass into Mark's face, her sweet-smelling hole taunting him. He inhaled deeply, taking in the heady scent of her, as he reached up and tentatively touched her mound. To his surprise, she allowed it, even encouraged it as she began to grind against his face.
"Take your time," Megan whispered, her voice almost soothing.
Mark closed his eyes and devoted himself entirely to the task at hand, licking and kissing her folds until she moaned in approval. It was at this moment that he felt a warm, sticky sensation on his lips; it was the tangy taste of her fresh shit. He opened his eyes wide in astonishment, unable to process what was happening.
"Swallow," Megan commanded, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Mark hesitantly opened his mouth and obeyed, his mind reeling as he tasted the salty, bitter flavor of her excrement. He looked up at her in shock, but she was staring back at him with unbridled satisfaction, her face lit up with a wicked smile.
"Now clean me up," Megan commanded, her voice harsh once again.
With shaking hands, Mark pulled out his phone and captured the aftermath of their intimate moment. The sight before him was both humiliating and arousing; there was no denying the power she held over him. As he snapped away, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of contentment. This was their little secret, their bittersweet torment that bound them together in a unique way.
With utmost care, Mark cleaned up the mess, never losing eye contact with his wife the entire time. Even when he finally stood up, his face flushed with embarrassment, she continued to stare at him, her eyes boring into his soul. It was in that moment that he knew she wouldn't let him escape her grasp anytime soon.
