27 - Prescribing Submission
MF / BDSM / Dom/sub / Therapy / Spanking
“We need to go, Richard. This is just getting ridiculous now,” Grace said sharply.
She didn’t mean for her tone to be so snappy, but it was difficult not to be frustrated when she was so worked up and there was no chance of relief.
Her honey brown hair was matted to her forehead, and her chest heaved.
The insides of her thighs burned with longing and an ache that couldn’t be soothed.
Meanwhile, Richard lay beside her, his head turned away, his body forlorn and failed.
The sheet was draped over his groin, as though he was embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to perform.
If it had just been the one time, Grace would have been more understanding, but it had become too frequent to be an odd occasion.
“We don’t need to see a sex therapist. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, that’s all. Work’s been tough, you know, and I’ve been tired. It’ll get better.”
“You’ve been saying that for months now, and it hasn’t.
Don’t you miss the way we were when we were younger?
You couldn’t keep your hands off me then!
Is it something wrong with me? Have I gotten too old for you?
” Grace asked, looking down at her body.
She tried to keep herself in shape, although she didn’t always get to the gym as often as she would have liked.
Her skin was soft and supple, her breasts still full and voluptuous, her hourglass figure intact, even though the rigors of time had tried its best to make her body crumble.
When she went out, she drew desirable, lingering glances from other men.
It made her feel warm inside, validated, but that all went out of the window when she tried to have sex with her husband.
“Maybe we’ve spent so long together that your body has become repellent to me,” she said.
Richard rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just that I’m stressed, that’s all.”
“But making love with me isn’t supposed to be something that stresses you out.
It’s supposed to relax you. Come on … can’t you just let your mind go and drift away?
” she asked, lowering her voice to a breathy whisper and leaning in to him.
She spread her hand across his chest and pushed it down, forcing her way down to his manhood, hoping that she could still stimulate the embers of the fire that used to blaze within him.
Richard was not an old man, but sometimes he acted as though time had taken its toll. He was still vigorous in many ways, and she still found him sexy. It was so puzzling as to why he had lost this most wonderful sense of desire.
Richard turned away from her, pushing her away.
“I just can’t get in the right headspace.
I’ve got so many things going on that I can’t relax, and it doesn’t help that the world is just getting worse.
I mean, all these problems with the economy and climate change.
I just … it’s too much for me to handle. ”
Grace huffed as she withdrew her hand and folded her arms across her chest. She stared at the ceiling.
The flickering lights of the candles danced above her.
The scent of lavender was in the air, something she had used to try to create a romantic mood, to no avail, unfortunately. Still, her body burned.
“Well, the problems of the world aren’t going to go away anytime soon.
Are you saying that this is just the way we’re living now?
Is this the way our lives are going to be?
I’m not even asking for a lot, Richard. I’m not expecting us to screw every day, but I don’t think once every couple of weeks is much to ask.
I still have needs, you know. I still want to be with you.
Christ, I never wanted to end up like my parents.
I don’t want to be in a marriage where we’re together just because of habit, where we’re afraid to even touch each other.
I want to feel loved, and I want to show that I love you, too, Richard.
But this is … I just don’t know what to do.
You need help. Our marriage is in trouble.
I can’t make it any more explicit than that,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
She turned her head away so that he couldn’t see the crystal tears forming in the corners of her eyes and waited for him to reply.
He said nothing, though. The silence became deafening, stifling, suffocating.
It weighed as much as any other burden in the world, and Grace was getting tired of it.
All she wanted was to feel her heart soar as tension was released from her body.
Instead, she was a mess of a knotted ball of tightness.
When Richard didn’t respond, she swung her legs off the bed and muttered that she was going to get a shower. She strode through the house, this house that they had built together, and could only feel contempt for it. It was as though she was living a lie.
Her younger self never would have put up with this, and she never would have expected this, either.
When she and Richard had gotten together, he had been a blistering man filled with passion, always willing to do the unexpected and surprise her.
He had ravished her with his love, and there were times when he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
He was always so eager to take her, and when they had first moved into the house, they had made it a point to fuck in every room.
He used to be rough with her, and she had loved it.
Then, over the years, the way they made love had changed.
He had grown gentler, and she didn’t mind this at first. But it went from being gentle to suddenly turning to nothing, and they became an epitome of the worst stereotypes of marriage.
Now she was in the shower, the hot water beating down upon her.
Steam rose around her, and she closed her eyes as she let it cascade down her body.
She felt it in every part of her and wished that she could let go of this ball of tension inside.
It didn’t help that Richard was proving stubborn in trying to get help.
How were they going to solve the problem when only one of them was aware that they had a problem?
It was becoming an impossible situation, and Grace didn’t know what to do.
The longer this went on, the more it seemed as though the only solution was to look to end the marriage.
It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but there was only so much she could take and, right now, she didn’t feel like a wife.
The worst thing she could do was to let this situation linger and continue, because she didn’t want to be in this same position five years down the line, only feeling even worse because she hadn’t done anything to save herself earlier.
Her mind flashed between her present anguish and the bliss of what used to be.
She wished that Richard could summon some long lost part of himself and just take her like he used to do.
She remembered his muscular body glistening under the sunlight, looking majestic on the beach as he led her to a secret cove where they made love on the sand.
He had been rampant, tearing away her clothes, leaving marks upon her body.
It was as though a beast had been inside him.
The worst thing was that she still loved him.
She still wanted him. It would have been easier had she loathed him.
“Well, Old Faithful, looks like it’s time for you and me to dance again,” she muttered, looking at the showerhead.
She reached up and curled her fingers around it, bringing the showerhead down.
The warm water streamed down her body, over the rising curves of her breasts and deeper down, down to the aching part where something stirred and trembled and wanted to flow freely from her.
She shuddered as she leaned back against the tiles, gasping at the coldness of them when everything else around her and inside her was blazing hot.
She arched her neck back and groaned, her mouth forming an oval as she thrust the showerhead down, pressing it against her most intimate area.
A long, guttural moan rumbled out of her throat as the pleasure twisted out of her.
It streamed and was as though a dam had been broken.
The gushing water flowed against her, the vibrations making her tingle all over.
Her knees went weak, and she felt herself slipping down, but the wall managed to hold her upright.
Her hands trembled as the shower pulsed against her, passionate and relentless.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed her fingers against herself, knowing all the sweet spots that tantalized her so much.
Along with the water, it created a phenomenal dance that felt like a hurricane was twisting inside her.
Then it came, shuddering, juddering through her, leaving her shaking and empty. She felt the extra warmth flow down her thighs, and her entire body shook, her knees weakening so much that she could not hold herself upright any longer.
Sinking to the floor, she held the showerhead in her lap, letting the water collect against her thighs and stomach, forming a pool as the heat radiated off her.
She let her head drop and placed one hand in it, feeling the wet strands of hair falling through her fingers like seaweed.
Her chest heaved, but deep inside, there was a feeling of longing, as though this hadn’t been enough.
She tossed the showerhead aside. It was limp and helpless, the water still gushing out and swirling around the drain.
She curled her arms around her body and thought herself pathetic, having to resort to fooling around in the shower because her husband either wouldn’t, or couldn’t, fuck her. And it wasn’t the same.