The Night My Husband Treated Me Like His Pet

After my last encounter with Mariano, a couple of messages came through on my phone that I didn’t even open. I devoted myself to my family, the routine, pretending everything was in its proper place. My husband, as always, seemed pleased that I had a lover; it was a game we both enjoyed. But that last date had left a bittersweet taste in my mouth, and the frustration wouldn’t go away. On the contrary, it kept growing. I needed rough sex, without romance, without excessive tenderness. The kind of sex you only get when someone treats you with just the right amount of coldness.

During those days I helped my father-in-law with the cooking, cleaned the house, and went to work. Always playing the perfect wife, hiding my true nature behind a sweet, slightly naive smile. Everyone thought I was happy, that I was in a better mood for some reason. The truth was different: I was annoyed, tense, unsatisfied. And only one person knew how to read what lay beneath my mask.

That night we were in the bedroom, about to go to sleep. Esteban was already in his sleepwear, and I had just come out of the shower, drying my hair with a towel, wrapped in my white robe and wearing the smile that never left my face.

—Honey, you’ve seemed strange lately, like you’re not yourself. Is something wrong? —he said.

I wasn’t surprised. My husband always noticed any change in me.

—It’s Mariano. I’m a little angry with him —I confessed as I sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

—Did he do something you didn’t want? Because if he did, I’ll teach him a lesson.

—It’s not that. Do you remember the last time the three of us went out to eat?

—Of course. He was groping you under the table, thinking I didn’t notice.

—Yes. We had sex afterward, and I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t completely satisfied.

Esteban grew thoughtful, and I noticed something resembling concern in his eyes.

—I thought you were enjoying the idea of having a lover.

—I am. But I expected Mariano to be bolder, more dominant.

My voice grew softer with every word, and my thumbs played with each other in my lap. He looked at me for a second and understood everything at once.

He climbed on top of me, pinning me down on the bed. His hand caressed my cheek, his body pressed against mine, his eyes fixed on mine.

—Your friend still doesn’t know he has to treat you like the slut you are. Is that it?

I stayed silent, but my eyes gave me away. His words were already arousing me in a way only he could. I bit my lower lip without looking away from him, letting my excitement show.

—Are you going to do something for me? —I asked.

—You’re such a bitch you can’t even wait —he laughed—. But yes, I have something special planned for you.

His hand slid beneath my robe and freed my breasts. He squeezed and caressed them, and almost before I realized it, a drop of milk sprang from one of my nipples.

—You’re lactating again? —he smiled—. My little cow has arrived at the perfect moment.

Even I didn’t know it had started happening again. It had been happening to me for years; the doctors said it was hormonal, that stress triggered it.

—I’ve just thought of a better plan —he continued—. When your tits are nice and full, we’ll go to the doctor’s office so they can milk you. Like a cow. A very slutty cow.

Is he going to make me expose myself in front of another man again? I thought, with a mixture of tension and intrigue.

—When you’re nice and full, let me know. I already have the perfect day in mind to please my bitch.

He kissed me on the lips after talking to me that way, and I kissed him back. I wanted him to take me right there, but I knew that if I had a little patience, the reward would be a thousand times better than a few minutes of fucking.

***

The next day I went to work, as I did every morning. I started at four, and by one in the afternoon I was free. Around eleven I began to feel my breasts heavy and sore—a sign they were full. I sent Esteban a short, direct message, the kind only he understood. He replied quickly. By noon I was already on my way in the car, and the pain was so bad that I had to take off my bra, leaving my breasts loose beneath my clothes.

I got home and changed immediately. Tight pants and a black camisole, no bra, with a neckline that left little to the imagination. Esteban looked at me proudly, with a conspiratorial gaze at what was about to happen. We got into the car and, while he drove, he tried to brush the skin of my cleavage with his fingertips.

—Hey, if you take all the milk, what are you leaving for the farmer? —I said, bold and teasing.

He laughed and held himself back, though I could tell he was anxious. The mere idea of another man seeing his wife’s breasts had him aroused, and he made no attempt to hide it.

***

The doctor’s office was spotless and everything was neatly arranged. The doctor must have been around forty, attractive, with no gray hair yet, the kind of man who took care of his appearance.

—Hello, welcome. What brings you here? —he said, inviting us to sit down.

—Hello, Doctor. The thing is, my wife’s breasts hurt —Esteban replied.

—Breast pain can have several causes, and they’re not always serious. Most are benign.

—What happens —I cut in— is that when I get stressed, my breasts produce milk. It’s been happening for years. The doctors say it’s hormonal.

My fingers played with each other, my voice was barely a murmur, and my gaze was fixed on the desk. A performance worthy of an actress, meant to hide my excitement.

—All right, then you just need some medication. I’ll prescribe…

He was about to write when Esteban interrupted him.

—Doctor, the problem is that she can’t get the milk out right now, and she asked me to bring her here to see if you could help her with that.

—There are breast pumps for extracting milk. Some brands are very gentle on the nipple area; they don’t hurt…

—You know what? We couldn’t buy one right now —my husband insisted—. That’s why we’re here. So you can help her.

The doctor remained thoughtful for a moment, trying to decipher Esteban’s words. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. For an instant I thought we had been found out, that a lecture was coming. My heart was beating fast and hard; I tried to control my breathing.

—Yes, I can guide your wife so the milk starts to come out. With a little warm water, it shouldn’t be a problem, and it will barely hurt.

I accepted his help. The doctor went for some warm water and a small container.

—I’m ready. What do I have to do? —I asked.

—First, wet your nipples with the warm water. Then, with your fingertips, squeeze gently until the milk flows. Massage slowly, and you’ll see that it comes out without any effort.

I lowered my blouse and exposed my breasts in front of both men. They both stared at me openly; the doctor cleared his throat. I began wetting one nipple, massaged it slowly, and then squeezed a little.

—Ow, it hurts. I don’t think I’m doing it right —I said, letting go with a feigned wince.

—Honey, I’m sure the doctor can do it better than you —Esteban said—. He has experience; that’s what he’s a professional for. What do you say, Doctor?

—I think it’s a good idea —I added in an innocent voice, my eyes pleading for help—. Will you help me, Doctor?

—Well… I think I can help with something —his voice sounded uncertain as he stood and approached, without taking his eyes off my breasts.

His hand moved toward my right breast, already damp from the water.

—I’m going to start touching you, all right?

He didn’t let me answer; I already felt his hand on me. He did it so well that the milk came out in several streams almost immediately. I brought the container closer to catch it. Every time he squeezed, more milk spurted out, and he gave my nipple a few little tugs. He leaned forward, and when I shifted to adjust myself in the chair, my shoulder brushed against his crotch. I felt him hard, ready. I turned my gaze back to his hand: there was milk between his fingers.

—Hey, Doctor, what do you say you milk the other breast too? —Esteban said.

The doctor seemed startled by my husband’s voice, but quickly recovered.

—Ah, yes. I think I have another container.

He let me go to fetch it, and in the reflection of the glass in a display cabinet I saw him bring his fingers to his mouth and clean the milk off them with his tongue. I smiled inwardly, as though I had won a battle. When he returned, he handed me the second container, wet his other hand, and moistened my left breast. I held both containers beneath my nipples while he began milking me from both sides.

Standing behind me, I felt his erection against my back. I tried not to moan while he milked me in front of my husband, barely feeling the pressure and tugs of his hands.

—How are you doing, honey? Are you feeling better yet? —Esteban asked.

—Ah, yes. The doctor is doing a good job —I replied, my voice fractured by a barely contained moan.

—Looks like he knows how to milk you properly so it doesn’t hurt.

The doctor didn’t say a word; he simply concentrated on his task. But when Esteban said the word “milk,” his erection pressed even harder against my back. Forbidden images were already appearing in my mind, and I knew I was about to lose control. Fortunately, the milk stopped flowing, first from the right breast and then from the left. The doctor handed me a little towel and returned to his chair.

When I had finished cleaning myself and adjusting my blouse, I saw him pour the contents of both containers into one and study the amount carefully.

—Almost seven hundred and fifty milliliters. That’s a tremendous amount. How do you feel now?

—Much better. They don’t hurt anymore; they even feel lighter.

—When milk builds up, it’s normal for it to hurt. That’s why it’s best to take the medication or express it before it starts causing pain.

—Thank you, Doctor. My wife is grateful, and we’ll certainly come back if she feels unwell again —Esteban said, satisfied.

We paid for the consultation, and once we were in the car, I couldn’t hold back the question.

—Hey, did you like it?

—I loved it. Watching another man milk my little cow is one of the best sensations there is.

—You’re so mean to me, honey.

—I am. But I know you love it when I treat you that way.

—And now? Was that all you had planned?

—Oh, no. You know I’m not that simple. I still have to take care of my little dog.

I asked no more questions; I wanted the rest to be a surprise. The excitement wouldn’t let me sit still.

***

Esteban parked in front of a shopping arcade. He got out, I followed him, and he led me by the hand to a pet store. He took me straight to the dog-toy section and began looking at collars and leashes.

—Which one do you think is prettier? —he asked.

—But we don’t have a dog —I said quietly.

—Oh, I do have a dog. And she’s a very slutty one —he whispered in my ear.

His words quickened my heartbeat and set my cheeks aflame.

—Either way, I’m going to choose the one I like best.

He chose a camel-colored leather collar with a matching leash. At the counter, the salesman mentioned that the purchase came with a free tag bearing the animal’s name. “Slut,” Esteban said without batting an eye. I struggled to remain calm. The two of them laughed so naturally that the man didn’t ask any questions, and they chose a blue bone-shaped tag on which to engrave the name. Afterward we went to eat at a restaurant. To be honest, nothing out of the ordinary happened; we ate so calmly that I almost forgot about the doctor and the leash.

***

We got home. I went straight to the bedroom while my father-in-law called Esteban to talk about something. I lay down and fell asleep without meaning to. I didn’t wake up until he gently shook me.

—Honey, wake up. We’re going to continue with this afternoon’s plan.

—What time is it? —I murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.

—After midnight. It’s perfect for continuing with the plan.

—At this hour? Can’t it be during the day?

—Of course it has to be now. Look, I already have your things ready.

He handed me the clothes we had bought and the leash with the tag.

—Is all this necessary?

—Of course. Go change in the dressing room.

I went inside, closed the door, and put on the white stockings that reached halfway up my thighs, the pink miniskirt, and a white top that barely covered my breasts. I added the leash with the tag that read “Slut.” I looked for underwear but couldn’t find any. I came out like that.

—There’s no underwear?

—Ugh, you look so delicious. Your areolas are even showing through the top —he said, coming closer to give me a smack on the ass that echoed through the room—. You won’t need underwear. Now, Slut, get down on all fours like the bitch you are.

His authoritative voice made me obey instantly, and aroused me at the same time.

—Very good. I love obedient bitches. But if you disobey me, I’ll punish you with spankings. Understand, slut?

I didn’t answer or move, so he gave me another smack that drew a moan from me.

—Ugh, you look so vulgar. I almost mistook you for a pig.

Another smack, another moan. His hands found my collar and fastened the leash.

—Very good. It’s time for your nighttime walk.

He walked toward the door and opened it. Excitement overwhelmed me. I felt the leash tugging at me, but I didn’t move: the risk of my father-in-law seeing me was extremely high, and that terrified me as much as it turned me on. A smack on the ass made me forget reason, and I began moving on all fours as he pulled.

—That’s right, bitch. I’m going to make you feel what your friend didn’t know how to give you.

I moved slowly, trying not to make a sound, step by step, until I passed in front of my father-in-law’s bedroom door. My ass is on display for anyone to see in this position, I thought, while the top betrayed me and left my breasts hanging out. We reached the kitchen, where I felt safer because of the corners that concealed me, but we didn’t stay there long. Esteban led me to the sofa in the foyer, the most exposed spot in the entire house, right in the center. He patted a cushion, inviting me up as though I were his pet.

Once I was on top of it, he turned me over until I was lying on my back, my legs resting on the back of the sofa and spread wide. He freed his erection and put it in my mouth, one hand gripping the back of my head, setting the pace without mercy. His fingers moved down to my pussy and caressed me while, with my mouth occupied, I could only make muffled sounds. Saliva escaped and covered my face, but the pleasure far outweighed the discomfort.

He let me go, grabbed me by the hair, and practically dragged me across the floor. My reflexes brought me to my feet, and I walked where he guided me: to a door, where I placed my hands on the frame. He seized my hips, bent me over, and penetrated me in a single movement, all the way to the hilt. A moan escaped me, but his hand covered my mouth as he continued thrusting, hard and without respite. Only then did I realize that we were standing in front of my father-in-law’s bedroom.

—See, slut? Your husband knows what a bitch needs —he whispered in my ear, without uncovering my mouth, knowing I would moan the moment I could.

My legs gave out, and I fell until I was once again on all fours, with him still inside me. He didn’t waste the opportunity: he pressed my head against the floor, left my ass raised, pulled out of my pussy, and drove himself into me from behind, without tenderness. He didn’t like the moan I let out, so he removed one of my stockings, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it into my mouth, then wrapped the leash around my head so I couldn’t spit it out. He planted his foot on my head and continued pounding me like a madman. Every blow struck places that made me lose my mind. An orgasm unlike any other began to take hold of me; every muscle in my body tensed—my neck, hands, arms, thighs, and belly. I began seeing black spots that grew and grew, until I fainted.

***

I woke up in bed, my body aching, with Esteban shaking me by the hand.

—Caro, honey, wake up.

He looked desperate; he must have thought something serious had happened to me. I smiled.

—How did I get here? —I asked, trying to sit up. As I moved, I felt my backside sticky: he had left me his gift too.

—Are you all right? You scared me so badly. You suddenly stopped moving, and I thought the stocking had cut off your breathing. I put my fingers beneath your nose to make sure you were breathing.

He really did look worried.

—I’m fine. My muscles hurt, that’s all.

I threw myself onto him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him on the lips.

—You’re such a stud. You made me feel so good I passed out.

After making sure everything was all right, we decided to sleep. And for the first time in weeks, I fell asleep completely satisfied.