Training lessons for her

Leslie awoke to the faint rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds, her body aching with a mix of soreness and lingering pleasure. The note on the bedside table was brief, typed in Craig's bold handwriting: "Shower. Clean yourself. Today starts your training. The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of dread and anticipation. She slowly rose from the bed, her shirt still hanging from her shoulders, and made her way to the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over her skin, washing away the remnants of the previous night, but the memory of Craig's commands lingered.

As the warm water cascaded over her skin, Leslie's hands instinctively rose to her breasts, the suds gliding smoothly over her nipples. She massaged them gently, the friction sending a subtle tingling sensation through her body. The soap suds trickled down her torso, tracing the curves of her waist before sliding over the round contours of her ass. The water's warmth contrasted with the chill of the bathroom air, and for a moment, she allowed herself to lose focus, letting the rhythm of the shower wash away the lingering tension.

The water cascaded over her skin, Leslie's hands drifted lower, her fingers brushing against the tender flesh between her thighs. The soreness from the previous night's events was undeniable, a throbbing reminder of Craig's relentless demands. She winced slightly as her fingers made contact, the sensitivity heightened by the warm water. Despite the discomfort, she continued, her touch gentle yet insistent, as if trying to cleanse not just her body but the lingering echoes of his commands. The soap suds slid down her legs, carrying with them the physical remnants of the night, but the mental scars remained, a constant reminder of the path they had embarked on.

Leslie stepped out of the bathroom, the steam swirling around her as she made her way to the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bacon filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension that lingered between them. Craig stood by the stove, his back to her, the sizzle of eggs in the skillet the only sound breaking the silence. He had made her breakfast, the gesture oddly comforting yet unsettling. She approached the table, her eyes fixed on the plate he had set for her—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast.

Leslie poured the steaming coffee into her mug, the aroma filling the air as she added a splash of cream. "It smells good," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Craig turned from the stove, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her disheveled appearance. The towel wrapped around her, and with towel wrapped around her head from the shower. He nodded curtly, his expression unreadable. The sizzle of bacon and eggs filled the silence between them, a stark contrast to the tension that hung heavy in the room.

Craig pushed his chair back from the table, the scrape of the legs against the floor breaking the heavy silence. "Today's the day," he said, his voice low and steady, with an undercurrent of anticipation that made Leslie's heart race. "No more games, Leslie. Your training starts now." He stood up, his movements deliberate, and walked around the table to where she sat. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down close to her ear. "You're going to learn what it means to be a hotwife, to be my slut. And you're going to love every minute of it."

Finish up here and go get dressed wear something that’s easy to take off. Leslie quickly finished her coffee, the warmth spreading through her as she stood up from the table. Craig's words hung in the air, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in her stomach. She nodded, knowing what was expected of her. Without a word, she turned and headed towards the bedroom, the towel still wrapped around her body. She opened the dresser drawer, her fingers brushing over the clothes until she found something suitable. Leslie’s fingers brushing against the lace as she searched for the perfect outfit. She found a matching bra and thong set, the material soft against her skin. As she put them on, the bra struggled to contain her large breasts, while the thong hugged her round ass, leaving little to the imagination. She then slipped into a tight top and shorts, the fabric clinging to her curves. Craig watched from the doorway, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Perfect," he said, his voice filled with approval. "You look exactly as I imagined my hot slut wife would look like”.