#3202: Panama
Original photo: kein
A husband with a secret. A wife who knows exactly what he needs. When the stress of running their coffee plantation in Boquete becomes too much for Miguel, his devoted wife takes full control — riding crop in hand — in this steamy, intimate story of a dominant wife, a willing husband, and the passionate power play that holds their marriage together.
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Transcript
I woke up early in the morning, like I always do. There's always more than enough work for everyone at the plantation, and even if we're owners, it's not an excuse to lie around and enjoy a lazy morning. We have to work more than anyone else, and I understand it better than anyone. My husband Miguel is the same. We both know that we won't have anything without hard work and are willing to invest our time, our energy, and our sweat into something important to us. Just how important you can only imagine, because there's no way to describe it.
Boquete woke up slowly, but as soon as the first ray of sunshine hit the roof of our house, I woke up to make breakfast. We never skip a meal; we just can't afford not to feel energised and ready for the day. I brewed coffee, one that grew at our own plantation, and an amazing, rich smell filled the kitchen. When Miguel walked down the stairs, breakfast was already served, and he smiled, looking at me, reminding me just how much I love my husband and why I feel this way about him.
When we got married almost ten years ago, we had nothing. We had to hold onto each other and build from the ground up to get where we ended up, and I couldn't be happier with everything that we received as a reward for our hard work. I also couldn't have been happier with my husband, Miguel, who made all of my wishes come true, no matter how hard the thing I wished was to obtain. He was my partner and the love of my life, and I appreciated and loved that about him. I knew that he loved me just as much, and he gave me proof of it every day we spent together.
I cut a mango for breakfast, served us eggs and fresh bread. We talked quietly as the sun slowly rose higher. Our workers started to arrive at the plantation, and I smiled, thinking about the next day of hard work which would soon be followed by an evening of a nice time together with my husband.
Soon we were out of the house, too busy to think about anything, even about each other. I started to take care of business, the way I always did — while Miguel was taking care of things on the ground, I was dealing with papers, taking samples of the berries, making sure we had everything sorted. I could hear the voices of our workers, could feel some wind in the air, and was grateful for a day that was promising not to be as scorching hot as it usually is. I smiled, looking at everyone working as a machine, as a part of one mechanism. I knew that everything was working fine because we kept everything under control. Sometimes it was a lot of pressure for both of us, and there were moments in my life during which I was afraid that one of us would break, but it never happened, and I hoped that it never would.
A long day of work came to an end surprisingly quickly, though it wasn't unusual. Time was always running out quickly when we both had a lot to do and even more waiting on our plates. When Miguel returned to the house, once the heat of the day was already starting to settle, I could tell that he felt stressed. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to show him that I was at his side, that I was supportive, but he only gave me a small smile. He needed something else, more than I could give him at the moment, but I knew what he could need to take his mind off things. And I was going to present it to him as soon as he showed me that he needed it.
We had dinner as we continued to talk about work and about how the season was going. I could still see worry on his face, his brows still pushed together by expectations and responsibility. The plantation wasn't just about us. It gave work and opportunities for the people living close to it, to all of our workers and their families. It meant that we couldn't fail. It simply wasn't an option because there was too much on our shoulders, too much to take care of, too many people were relying on us, and we couldn't just let them down. Wasn't an option.
As we ate, I noticed it again. Miguel's shoulders sagging, his head tipping down. He needed something; he needed release; he needed not to think about the worries. He did not need to think about anything. When he lifted his eyes to me, and I could see some deep sadness in them, I knew what he needed. I prompted him with a smile, teasing him to tell me exactly what he needed from me. Until, finally, he confessed. He needed me to be in charge, in a way only I could be. I smiled brightly. He didn't ask for it often, but I knew that at times he needed it. I could tell that at that moment, he needed it more than ever, and I smiled, looking at him. I was willing to help. More than willing, he just needed to show me that it was his exact desire. Not just some rushed decision. It was something that he needed, something only I could give him.
Miguel dropped to his knees and crawled toward me. I smiled brightly, looking at him. He was doing well, very well, and I could stand to watch him do even better. He crawled to me, to my feet, and I willingly put my foot on his shoulder, still wearing a shoe with a small heel on it. Miguel looked at it with fire in his eyes, a held breath. He couldn't believe that I was doing this to him, but I didn't care. It was a play, a tease, and he was doing great with his role as long as I allowed it. I smiled, moving my foot closer to his face and wondering if he would take the bait the way he always did. Of course, he did. He never could resist me, and I knew that it would happen from the start. There was a reason why he married me — I knew him too well. All of his ins and outs, all of his deep secrets and desires. Only I could give him what he wanted, and I was willing to play the games others wouldn't even think about.
Before I could tell him anything else, Miguel put my foot to his face and started to lick at the leather tip of it, his eyes filled with pleasure as he did so. There was nothing he loved more than to show me his devotion, and I was happy to see it, especially so close, so close I could almost kick it out of him. But he kept cleaning my shoe while I was telling him just how good he was at it and how proud I was of everything he did.
Miguel seemed more than happy to continue cleaning my shoes like the obedient boy he was, but I knew that he had a goal in mind, one he had to reach if he wanted to be truly happy. I wasn't going to keep him away from it; I wasn't that kind of wife. He deserved happiness, all of it, and I was going to give it to him, no matter what.
I stood up, tearing my foot out of his grasp and hearing a disappointed moan. I knew that he would've wanted to keep going, but there were far more important and entertaining things for us to get busy with.
I walked up the stairs, feeling my pulse quickening and also feeling it between my legs. I knew that I did the things I did mostly for Miguel, but I also wouldn't do them if they were just for him. I was having my fun as well, a lot of fun, and I just wanted to give it back to him when I could. And if I couldn't, I still would at least try my best.
With a smile, I walked up the stairs, and Miguel crawled behind me. He wasn't allowed to stand up and walk normally when we were in this situation. He had to always be below me, the same way he was always below me in our marriage. He knew that it was what he wanted, how it had to be, and I wasn't going to blame him for following my own rules.
He kept crawling all the way to our bedroom, even over the rug, which I knew burned his hands and knees. He didn't show it, but I knew the pressure was still there, the burning was there and he was fighting against it. He was also enjoying it, and I had nothing against it.
I looked at the bed, then at Miguel, and he looked almost like a puppy, his big eyes looking at me with a plea. What he was pleading about, I didn't have to ask because I knew. I knew even before we got married, but I knew it even more clearly at this moment because the pleading in his eyes turned even stronger than ever, as if that was even possible. I let out a small laugh and told him to undress and then get on the bed. He knew just what position I wanted him in, so I didn't need to give away the details. I trained him well, and it meant that I didn't have to waste a lot of time on adding new information to our arrangement.
Miguel looked good without his clothes. He was tall, muscular, and an ideal man if I would say so myself, but this little secret of his, this desire to be owned and dominated, showed me just how little his looks actually reflected reality. He wanted to submit, to have this soft, dominated side, and he wanted me to not only see it, but to use it against him. Which I happily did all through our marriage as long as it made him happy.
He got on the bed, fully naked, with his ass up in the air. I smiled, looking at how willing he was. No, not willing, eager. He wanted to be a part of it, a part of something so strange and something that most people would've found strange and almost repulsive, but not me. I loved it.
The first thing I pulled out of our bedside drawer was a riding crop. I smiled as I slapped it against my palm. It answered me with a hollow sound, and I could see Miguel tense up. He knew how it sounded and how it felt against his skin. And he was about to feel it once again.
I started to hit him with the crop, slowly, against his ass cheeks. It was always funny for me to see how my husband's body would tense up. He did so not even because of the hits, because he would tense up far before the hit would actually happen. His body reacted before the pain would come, and I knew that it was nothing but fear. The only thing he felt while I did it to him was pleasure, and I could tell by the sounds he was making. They were low, rumbling moans dropping from his lips instead of painful screams or calls for me to stop. He knew that I wouldn't stop because he didn't want it, and I didn't want it either.
Soon, I started to act faster, less rationally, hitting him over and over, making him screech at some point. But no matter how many hits were happening against his skin, I could tell that he was aroused and almost at his peak. He was sick with desire, needy, and I commanded him to get on his back. When Miguel rolled to his back, I could see his hard cock looking right back at me. He didn't even try to hide his arousal; he showed it to me fully, and I smiled, thinking about how happy I was to know that I could cause this reaction, could make my husband feel so much all at once. It was time.
I pulled a harness out and a dildo. It was a large, black one. We bought it not that long ago, after all the rest of our toys became too small for my husband. He needed to not feel in charge, to not feel worried for once, and I was more than happy to give him a chance to not feel pressure. Even if it came in such a strange way.
He pulled his knees to his chest, opening up for me, and I smiled at how good it looked. I applied lube to the toy and to his asshole before I slowly pushed the toy inside of him and started to move. Miguel was moaning from the start, even more so once my hand found his cock and started to stroke it. He closed his eyes tightly, and I could tell that he wouldn't last long. He never could.
I kept fucking him and stroking him, almost seeing how all the stress, all of his bad thoughts were leaving his body while I dominated him. It had nothing to do with pleasure for me, though I did feel it when I knew that my actions were making my husband feel better. I also knew that I was wanted, that I was loved by him, and that was the reason why he could open up to me so fully, so entirely. And I smiled as I watched him whine and whimper with the toy getting lodged deep within him. He was losing it; I knew it. I saw his body twitch, I felt his cock throb in my hand, and it meant only one thing — he wouldn't last much longer.
It only took me a few more thrusts to fuck him into orgasm. His cum spilled over my hand and his stomach, leaving Miguel breathless, but very happy, if I could judge by the bright smile on his face. And he deserved all of it.
I kissed him while still inside of him. I knew that tomorrow he would be happier; I could feel it. And I was happy to give it to him.