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            It had been weeks since Joe quit his job and I had convinced him to quit and it was partly my fault for what transpired. He seemed so discontented after his demotion, his confidence had deteriorated. After some discussion we agreed he should quit. It went downhill from there. Joe’s initial excitement and drive had all but disappeared. He had spent the better part of the last six weeks lying around watching television and surfing porn sites on the internet. I had reached my wits end. I decided to do my best to rectify the situation before he spiraled further into his life of leisure.
 
            My plan was simple; I would sit and rationally explain the financial burden that was put on my shoulders. I was sure he would understand.

“Joe“, I started.
“What’s up baby? You look tired”, he replied.
“I am tired Joe, I’m tired of you doing nothing to help yourself or us.” The words came out a little harsher than I planned.
“Where the hell is this coming from? I did what you suggested”.
“I didn’t suggest you do nothing”.
“You tell me to quit, and then jump all over me for doing it”. “Leave me alone my soap is starting, we’ll talk about this later”.
 
I felt my blood boil. Anger pushed its way forward; this did not go as planned.

            I had gone mad. I attacked him. We struggled with each other till we were on the floor. We grunted and puffed as we tried to get the better of one another. I could feel his breath against my face, and could tell he neglected to brush his teeth. I knelt on top of him, my knee dug into his chest. His shouting and pleading bounced off my deaf ears. In the corner of my eye I saw the tape we had used to move boxes into our new apartment. I stretched and pulled the tape towards me. I flipped him over and XXXX his wrists together.
“What the hell are you doing”, he shouted?
I didn’t respond. I wrapped the tape around his wrists as tightly as I could. I could see his hands redden. The defined muscles in his forearms clenched with frustration. I tied his ankles securely making two feet one. I could tell by the smell of his socked feet he had neglected to shower.

“If you don’t let me go I’m going to kill you”. I didn’t respond.
“Baby I’m sorry I’ll get a job”, he whined. I didn’t respond.
I dragged him onto the couch, but something was missing. I walked to the kitchen while Joe flopped back and forth on the couch like a fish out of water. He shouted a slew of curse words. I pulled a new roll of duct tape from the drawer. As I made my way to him duct tape in hand his eyes widened.
 
            The tape around his mouth looked nice. The indentation of his lips protruded making two silver bumps. He spoke through the tape as if I understood him.
“MMMPPPHHH, MMMPPPHHH, MMMPPPHHH, MMMPPH”, he muffed.

Furthermore he added. “MMPPH, MMPHH, MMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHH”.
“Okay sweetie, I love you too” I snickered.
This infuriated him. He pulled and tugged at the knot binding his wrists. He contorted his body into yoga positions. He struggled, his face red, his eyes wide, and his hard body bouncing on the couch. A thought occurred to me, as he fought with himself. I had let my anger get the better of me. This was not going to accomplish what I intended. I decided I decided to take advantage of the situation. He would probably leave me after this anyway.
 
            I worked my way through the slit of his boxer shorts to the thing which had brought me so much pleasure through the past 2 years. I stroked him gently, he became hard. His muffled angry words softened to a low moan. He fought me and indulged me at the same time. He was hard and thick. I held him in my hand slowly rubbing him up and down, he struggled less. My fingers found their way down to his sac. I squeezed cautiously but firmly. His bound body and sealed mouth turned me on in a weird way. His helplessness excited me. After a few minutes it was over. I untied him and slowly pulled the tape from his mouth. The next week he found a job. Every once in a while we pretend he didn’t so we could have another talk.