Alamo Preacher

Yet another new story. So much easier to start than to finish. Let me know if I should continue with this or go back to an earlier story.

"Call me Mistress" she whispered fiercely.
"Yes Mistress." I whispered back, gasping.
She was so firm, so commanding, and I could tell she wasn't acting, she was more and more turned on, but not in the usual way, this was different.
"Please Mistress." I said as she pushed me back towards the bed, but I wasn't sure what I saying 'Please' for - 'Please stop.'?, 'Please go on.'?, 'Please don't hurt me.'? I was lost.

I'd known that working together would change our relationship, but nothing prepared me for how it would turn out.
When I lost my job with a local IT firm, I'd spent several months looking for work before my wife took charge.
"Look Dave, my firm needs IT staff, you need a job. What's the problem? Start on Monday."
The problem, though I couldn't admit it, was that I didn't want to work with my wife. She was a partner in a powerful law firm, and I was a lowly IT consultant. Admittedly, our salaries were similar, but if I went to work in her firm, I would be a lowly functionary in a company where she was near the top.
Still, I had found nothing else, and we needed the money, and Clara was becoming insistent. I resolved I would try it, and keep looking for something, somewhere, anywhere else.
From the start, it was as I had feared. On my first day, my new manager brought me round to introduce me to  my new colleagues, the non-legal staff. She introduced me as 'Carla's husband'. I could feel people sizing me up as they said hello. 'So, she's a partner, and he just works in IT?' they were thinking. When I would pass Carla in a hallway, she was usually with one of the other partners, or a legal secretary. She'd flash me a tiny smile, acknowledging me, but we wouldn't talk. At lunchtime, I'd eat in the small canteen with the other staff, while the partners would usually go out to lunch, or be served food in their offices. Occasionally someone would ask why we didn't eat together, and I had to grit my teeth and say that it wouldn't be appropriate, which, of course, was exactly true.
At the end of the day, we'd drive home together. Since Carla would sometimes need a car during the day, she would drive us both in her car. As we drove home, she would still be in 'work mode' and we wouldn't talk much. She might ask me how my day had been in an off-hand way, but it wouldn't be till later at home that she would relax and we'd be our usual, married selves around each other.
And, maybe I was imagining it, but I felt that it took longer and longer for normality to reassert itself, as the weeks passed.
Eventually, it had to happen. Carla had a problem with her PC, and I was called to her office. She was having a meeting with the senior partner, and they moved to the coffee table in her huge office while I tried to figure out what was wrong with it. Eventually he left, just as I realised what the problem was, and we were left alone together.
"So, is it fixed?" She asked curtly.
"Yes, Carla, it's all back to normal now." I replied, putting the final touches to the simple software fix.
She gave me a look. "You know, I think it would be more appropriate if you called me Miss. Stevenage during work hours." She said, following it up with a mirthless smile.
I blinked. "Really? But there's no-one else here." I said.
"Yes. But I'd still prefer it. It's more professional, I'm sure you'll agree."
She was sitting at her desk again, and looking back to her papers.
"Yes. Miss Stevenage." I replied. She gave me a quick smile and she nodded towards the door. I was dismissed.
As I returned to my desk, I wasn't sure how this exchange made me feel. I wasn't angry, but I felt, ... something. I'd been put in my place, but not in an unpleasant way. I sighed. This was how it would be, I realised.
On the way home that evening, I could tell something was up with Carla. She was more intense, wired. She drove fast all the way home. She glanced at me a few times as she drove, but she hardly spoke at all. I wondered if I had done something wrong.
When we got home, I prepared the dinner. Usually we took turns. More recently I'd been doing more and more of the cooking, since often, Carla would return with work from the office that she'd want to get out of the way. This day though, she hovered, pouring a glass of wine and looking slightly edgy. I tried to make conversation, but she didn't really engage with me at all, and after a while I stopped trying.
During the meal, her manner was still strange, and I really did begin to think something was wrong.
As I started to clear the table, Carla still sat, sipping her wine.
"Carla, have I done something wrong?" I asked her, straight out.
She smiled a little, shook her head, and came over to me.
"Call me 'Miss. Stevenage' again." she said, and I realised, her strange look - it was lustful, vampish.
"Miss. Stevenage?" I asked, confused.
She smiled, shook her head. "No. Like before. Like in the office."
I wasn't sure. But the prospect of turning her on was very tempting. Recently, sex had become less and less common, and I was keen to feel anything between us. I tried to summon back the submissive frame of mind from our workplace situation.
"Yes. Miss Stevenage." I repeated.
She smiled. Her arms curled around me.
"I like that." She whispered. "Do you feel it too?"

I wasn't sure what she meant. But I could  tell she felt something. She liked the feeling of power, of superiority.
"Yes. Miss." I said quietly.
She kissed me suddenly, passionately, fiercely. It had been so long since I'd felt such a kiss. It took my breath away. As my head spun, I realised she'd never kissed me like this before. So intense, so overpowering. She released my mouth, but sill held me close.
"I love ordering you what to do." She whispered. "Do you like it?"
I wasn't sure if I did. But, to be honest, I didn't care. I was absolutely sure that I did like the way she was kissing me, and that was my overriding thought as I whispered -"Yes Miss."
She smiled triumphantly. "Yes. I knew. When I told you to call me Miss Stevenage, I thought you'd laugh. But you didn't and then when I so curtly told you to leave ... I didn't even say it did I? I just gestured towards the door? Yes. It felt so good. I nearly rang you back so I could order you about some more. Do you like this? I've felt, oh I don't know, so fucking bored with our marriage for so long. But this? Uh. I want this."
Her hands had moved downwards. She was caressing my ass in an aggressive way. Like a man might grab at a woman's.
"I want you ... " She paused, and I moved my hands to her breasts, but she angrily slapped them away, "... to do what I say!" She hissed. "No!  Bad!" she said. "You're going to fucking obey me. Right?" She demanded. "From now on, I'm not your wife. I'm your boss.  Understand?"
"Yes Miss. ... Miss Stevenage." I said, shocked at how agressive she'd become.
"Call me Mistress" she whispered fiercely.
"Yes. ... Mistress."
My voice had risen an octave to a strangled squeek.
"Please Mistress." I gasped.
"Oh yeah. You like this too." She growled. "Go down on your knees."
I hesitated, unsure. I was so turned on, but Carla, she was frightening.
She put her hands on my shoulders, pushed down, impatient.
"Go down on your knees. Bitch." She hissed.
I was so shocked, I hardly felt my will weakening, my knees bending. I found myself kneeling in front of her, my face level with her waist, the hem of her soft grey dress in front of my eyes.
I gazed up at her. She smiled a sneering, triumphant smile, and began to slowly raise the hem of her dress to reveal her thighs. Her pantyhose were sheer tan, the lycra shining softly.
Slowly her panties were revealed beneath. Deep blue, satin and lace. I pressed my face into her mound and I felt her drop her dress over my head, felt her hands move to the back of my head, press my face into herself through the material of the dress.