This choice: Mitchell gives you a command. • Go Back...Chapter #5Wife, Subjugated by: Unknown My husband’s foot is resting on top of me - heavy, odorous, massive; it’s hard to believe just how massive, but I know that all of me is buried under its bulk, entombed beneath the same sole that I’d heard slap the tiles in our bathroom for so many months now. I know he must be holding back; I’m too small, too insignificant and fragile to actually be able to withstand his weight. As it turns out I’m correct; his foot shifts slightly on top of me, pressing down then relenting and moving a bit sideways. I imagine how it must look from the side; he’s probably idly grinding his foot in place, feeling up the woman trapped underneath him. This is the man who confessed his eternal love for me. The man whom I planned to start a family with. The man I devoted myself to. In one fateful minute he’s turned into a god. What am I to him, then? An insect to snuff out? Is this how he’ll move on with his life? What was wrong with me, I wonder, how have I not satisfied him? Why does he feel the need to do this?
Why?
A part of my mind holds onto the possibility of this just being some strange joke gone too far, like there must be an explanation which will make total and perfect sense, even though I can’t imagine any normal scenario in which a man would decide to tread upon his shrunken wife.
“Alright, Dani, so I know this seems pretty fucked up”, his voice reaches me through the socked flesh which is still moving side to side above me; the fabric is rubbing my skin raw, sweat not enough of a lubricant. “But it’s for the best. For me, at least”.
The foot lifts! I hungrily inhale fresh air; light floods in, and I can now see the sole once again… its ball is hanging over me, the sweaty outline of a foot slightly visible… somewhere behind it there must be the man I adored so much…
His sole slams back down, pressing me into the floor once again, pain shooting through my ribs - nothing serious, but certainly a good reminder of just how easy it would be for him to pulverise me.
I let out a muffled scream. Once again, I’m in the dark, once again completely smothered by his great sole.
“See, I’m more mobile”, I hear him musing. “And I earn more. So I decided I don’t want to be tied down to one place. Or one girl”.
Once again, the sole lifts. I watch it with bloodshot eyes. It rocks back and forth above me before coming down again with a heavy thud; once again, the smelly, fleshy mountain is on top of me, accentuating his words.
“Also, I’ve reconsidered my views on life and marriage.”
His foot grinds in place now, rubbing against me. My skin is burning as the salty sweat seeps into tiny scratches. Some of it makes way into my mouth. Some, I think, is in my nostrils. Maybe my lungs.
“I think a good wife should be entirely subject to her husband’s whims”, he says above me, and his foot lifts; this time I barely have a moment to brace again as it falls back, really driving the point in. “I think it’s fair and justified that you, all of you, is completely submissive to me, regardless of your size. We’re letting women do too much these days, so this is my way of balancing that out. It’s the natural way of things”.
Foot goes up. I’m staring at the sole. A part of me wonders how could I miss him gravitating towards these misogynist ideas. How could I have not noticed he was going to literally bring me to heel. Maybe I was a bad wife; if I were good, would I let it slip past me? I must have not paid enough attention…
“I repeat, wives should serve their husbands”, he says above me, “and I expect you to agree with me since you’re my wife”.
This final tap is the worst one; the foot basically slaps me, pain shooting through my body once again. This foot is so easily dominating me. Imposing his will on me. It’s symbolic, considering what he’s saying; I can feel this is something he enjoys immensely, I hear it in the tone of his voice, he was really looking forward to trampling me like this and making me understand what he desired now.
“Now, if you agree”, his voice gets louder even though my ears are ringing, “you’ll get up on your knees and look me in the face”.
His foot lifts - entirely now, it settles down on the ground next to me. I barely have any time to think. My body acts on its own as I gather myself up and go into a kneeling pose. I feel like an insect that was given a chance to live. My husband’s gigantic form is the only thing that matters in my world right now, I realize; I have no doubt that the alternative to submission is death. And, since I’m small, the death will be inconsequential; all he has to do is to stomp me flat and throw his socks into the washing machine. Done. No more Dani.
He goes into a squatting position, looking at me intently, the dear face suddenly so unfamiliar. “Now, say it”, he says. “Say you’ll be a good submissive tiny wife. Say you’ll lick the dust off my soles because that’s how low you are. Say you’ll worship your husband like the god he is”.
An impossibly long moment passes when I just stare up at him. Then, with my lips trembling, my entire body shaking, I say:
“Yes, Master, I’ll… I’ll be your submissive tiny wife. I’ll lick… the dirt off your feet… because that’s where I belong…”
I force a sob down my throat.
“I-I’ll worship you like a God…”
“That’s a good girl”, he says. “Thank you, Dani. I always knew I could count on you”.
Once again he rises to his full height, then I see his giant legs move as he walks away, to his home office, and I, still on all fours, scamper after him, afraid and yet in fearful awe of what my husband has become to me. A God! I, Dani, have found a God in a man that I married!
And, of course, I’m just happy to be alive, even if it means I just surrendered myself to him.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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