The female white-collar department head's decadence

Because of an economic case, I was dismissed from my position as section chief and have been unemployed for over half a year . My former patron was also brought down by political activities.
I've lost all ambition and have gradually gotten used to the role of a "stay-at-home dad."
In stark contrast, my wife, Shufen, is beautiful and always has a haughty, condescending attitude. She's been doing very well these past two years, becoming...
The door opened, and I knew it was my wife returning. I quickly came out of the kitchen to greet her.
"Shufen, you're back. Please sit down." I quickly made tea and brought it to my wife.
"Hmm," Shufen gave a cold snort through her big nose, which was her way of acknowledging my arrival.
Shufen sat down on the sofa, crossed her legs, and I quickly took out her embroidered slippers from the large shoe cabinet. Before leaving, I squatted down and
carefully held her slender calves in my arms and gently massaged them. To please her,
I had recently taken a formal massage course. Shufen closed her eyes and peacefully enjoyed my skillful techniques, occasionally letting out a satisfied moan.
"What's that smell?" Shufen sniffed and asked, frowning.
"Oh no, I forgot to turn off the stove." I also smelled the burnt smell. There was still chicken soup simmering in the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen, only to find the chicken soup had long since turned into a dark, mushy
mess.
After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, I returned to the living room, feeling flustered. My wife was already furious.
"Kneel down!" she shouted. My knees buckled, and I knelt in the center of the living room, too afraid to move.
"What can you do well? You're forty years old, and you're just a damn piece of trash." My wife started berating me. "I told you not to fire the nanny. You said you
could cook, and cook delicious food, but you always burn the vegetables or the rice. You were a good section chief, but someone found something to use against you and you were stripped of your position. The powerful figure you were clinging to
was also demoted to a second-tier position. Ten years of being a 'godson' for nothing! You're useless during the day, I can accept that, but at night you're even weaker than during the day."
"Crawl over here!" My wife said, her voice brimming with energy. She grabbed a feather duster from the side, and I knew a good beating was inevitable.
I slowly crawled to her side, lying at her feet, awaiting her next command. Since losing my job, I'd gotten used to obeying my wife; her life was my priority.
She stomped on my head, and the feather duster rained down on my back and shoulders. I was
a department manager at the company, responsible for sales in North China. In her early thirties, she looked increasingly younger, and to help her advance, I…
I endured the pain without crying out. This kind of beating happened almost every day. At first, I wasn't used to it, and neither was my wife; she
was hesitant to hit me. But seeing how obedient I was, she started hitting harder and harder. The more I lost my sense of propriety, the more I wanted to please her. I didn't care if she hit me, as long as she didn't
divorce me, as long as this home remained my home.
With each beating, my experience grew. I discovered that only the initial beatings were the hardest; later, the area would go numb
, and after that, there was a strange pleasure, a very comfortable feeling.
Especially when my buttocks were whipped, I would often groan with pleasure, which surprised my wife, who would then tease me. So I would endure it without making a sound, but she
would happily do her job. She
always found a way to please me, always making me moan like a woman reaching orgasm, so sometimes she would accuse me of being abnormal.
My wife wore a business suit; the narrow skirt was stretched open by her legs, creating a hole. I tried my best to shove my head inside, licking her vulva through her lace panties
. Since returning home after losing my job, I'd discovered I wasn't very good at it anymore, having difficulty getting an erection. After several attempts with no improvement, I was deprived of the right to directly
touch my wife's vulva; even licking had to be done through her panties.
After a while, my wife got a little tired, but also a little excited, and ordered me to crawl under her skirt and lick her.
I tried my best to press my tongue completely against my wife's tender vulva, brushing it up and down evenly. Gradually, I felt my wife's vagina moving,
so I forcefully thrust my tongue forward, licking deeper. Even through the panties, I could still feel the change in my wife's clitoris—it was incredibly large. I opened it wide...
I don't know what kind of... "What do you say, what do you say?"
I held it in my mouth and sucked hard, hoping it could feel my love.
The slippery pubic hair on the sides of her large panties stuck into my nostrils, making me want to sneeze. I quickly pressed my nose against the hollow of my wife's vulva
. At this moment, my wife was probably close to climaxing. Her slender legs tightly clamped my head, and she thrust her hips eagerly. I started to have difficulty breathing, but thankfully it was
over soon. Thick vaginal fluid gushed from my wife's vagina, flowing down her snow-white thighs from the ends of her large panties. I quickly ate it all up; it tasted pretty good.
To be honest , my wife is the kind of person who is very sensitive, easily aroused and easily satisfied.

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The female white-collar department head's decadence

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