Some of the sh!t that I pull on my husband is admittedly a l..

Some of the sh!t that I pull on my husband is admittedly a little over the top. And when I stop to actually think about some of it, I can totally see why a lot of you theorize that the primary emotion I feel for hubby is anything but love. While that couldn’t be farther from the truth, I do sometimes tend to let my Russian bIood get the best of me when it comes to him. Take for example the flat chested little bitch, Chrissy. The uncontrollably recurring thought running through my head of him obediently following her command to fetch the crusty little panties that she’d had thoroughly wedged into her Mariana Trench-like ass crack for the prior 24 hour period has me livid beyond belief. Whether or not he lifted the undoubtably filthy crotch to his nose is absolutely fucking irrelevant, because his primary crime was infinitely more severe. And that crime, for which his ultimate sentencing is still pending, was being unconsciously submissive to another woman. So while I continue to mull over my response to this aggressive overreach by his lard assed colleague and his accessory role in the matter, he has remained locked in his cage. And while that punishment seems entirely proportional to the the offense, what I did this morning was probably a little bit over the top. I woke up around 630 and could not fall back asleep. I kept envisioning my husband cleaning Chrissy’s used pussy and bringing the cunt off in the process. It had my bIood boiling to such a degree that I nearly punched my sleeping husband in the nose for his imagined betrayal. That’s why at 715, after stewing for a full 45 minutes, I rudely woke his ass up with an elbow to his ribs. As soon as I could tell that his startled grogginess had sufficiently lifted, I commanded him to strip off his underwear and eat my pussy. To drive home my point, I told that I wanted it eaten especially well, like he probably would eat it if it was filled with one of his boss’s loads. And if it helped to elevate his performance, I said that he had my permission to imagine Raef standing alongside our bed, with his magnificent cock still half erect and glistening with my arousal for him. My poor husband literally had no idea either of how angry I was with him or why, and I’m certain that my making him take off his underwear had him thinking that he was minutes away from being released from his confinement and permitted a conjugal visit with his loving wife. That, I assure you, couldn’t have been farther from the truth. As soon as I finished cumming all over his handsome face, I ordered him to get his ass to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. Clearly confused by my curt and abrasive demeanor, he reluctantly crawled from our bed and began searching for his boxer briefs. “You don’t need your fucking underwear,” I seethed at him. Then adding “the kids aren’t even here and none of them will be until at least after lunch. Now go make the fucking coffee. You’ll be fine.” I joined him about 5 minutes later wearing nothing but a silky little red robe that comes nowhere even near thoroughly covering my ass. To hubby’s credit, my orgasm had been pretty fucking intense, and it had actually taken some of my edge off. But I wanted him to suffer a little more. So I laid on the sofa drinking my coffee with my back to the armrest and my knees drawn up. My sweet husband sat next to me with his feet on the ottoman wearing nothing but his chastity cage. I’m certain that he kept stealing glances at the obscene view I was giving him of my pussy. Then, out of the blue, I told him that he absolutely needed to shave me before the kids get home this afternoon. “Because,” I said, “I have something special planned for tonight... and I want to take a little video of you getting me ready for it.” I also told him that he better not even think about putting on any underwear until he had me baby smooth.