Four Bitches by Miss Irene Clearmont

Book Details

Four Bitches – Four dissatisfied women, all close friends, spend an evening complaining how their husbands are such lazy and inconsiderate pigs. Only after one thing, an easy life and plenty of sex! They resolve to straighten out their problems and start a competition to see who can best train their husband to be the perfect partner for them.

What starts as a casual little game slowly becomes a competition between the four bitches as they help each other to reach their goals. This novel follows through the training and guidance as each of them tries to overcome her husband’s natural reluctance to be obedient. Of course, each of the four bitches has a different take on how to compete for the prize of winning the game, and each has quite different ideas about how the end result should look.

In the year covered by the tale, each of them discovers that it is not only their husband that is being reconditioned. They too are moving on a path towards ever more enjoyment of the chance of having the sole attention of a husband whose only wish is to see to their particular pleasures.

A straightforward but rather severe tale of feminisation and control, this little story takes the reader through the training and conditioning that each of the wives applies step by step until at last the winner is declared and all four have discovered that their ambitions have been satisfied. Perhaps less ‘plot driven’ than some of my other novels, there is no stinting on intimate scenes and malicious interactions.

Setting: UK

F/m, F/fm, F/f, FM/m, Maid Service, Humiliation, Chastity, Corporal Punishment, BDSM, Slavery, Caging, Pet Play.

Strength 8/10 – 58,000 Words

Written 2015 Re-edit 2022

Excerpt: Four Bitches

First Phase
Phase One Month One: Initiation

Sandra relaxed in the leather armchair and raised the cognac glass to her lips. So far, the small soirée that she had arranged for Melanie was going well. Good food with fine wines followed by slim cigars and a thirty year Courvoisier; all leavened by some pleasant conversation between close friends. The women present were a heterogeneous mixture of successful women who relished the close company of their small group.

The only man present was Sandra’s husband, Harry, and he was presently occupied in the kitchen hard at work preparing the supper that they would be enjoying in a little while. Now came that relaxed phase when the room was redolent with the sweet aromatic cigars, the chatter of friends and the heady fumes of the cognac.

‘Well I must say that I am impressed by your husband’s cooking,’ said Melanie. ‘I really want that recipe for the dressed lobster with the caramelised jus.’

‘He’s been doing a course in fine dining and wine-tasting,’ said Sandra with a small smile. ‘I must say that in the last couple months we have been going less and less to restaurants and rather eating-in so much more often.’

‘I don’t know how you managed that,’ said Melanie. ‘My husband is not interested at all in anything that smacks of domestic life. At home it’s football, the occasional film and a bag of crisps for supper! When the maid is not there I have to do everything!’

The other two women present nodded in agreement as if to say that they too found their husbands too masculine to bother with anything that their maids or au-pairs took care of.

Laura, a primly dressed ex-teacher who was well known for working her maids so severely that she needed a new one every few months, commented; ‘It’s so difficult to get good help nowadays,’ in a plummy Victorian accent causing Florence, the young woman next to her to giggle.

‘We had a live-in au pair for a year, but she was just a lazy cow, now I’m looking for a full time maid,’ said Florence.

‘You’ll have to ask Laura where she gets all her maids from,’ said Melanie. ‘She seems to have a bottomless supply.’

‘Well, ladies, I am thinking of discharging the maid because Harry has been taking up all the slack!’ said Sandra with a small superior grin.

‘I don’t believe it,’ answered Melanie. ‘This house is a small palace and there must be so much to do, even though the kids have flown the nest.’

‘Mm, you’ll have to tell us your secret;’ said Melanie. ‘How do you manage it?’

‘Well… it’s like this,’ said Sandra. ‘I was surfing on the Internet when I came across a psychology site that was all about bringing up children, you know teaching them to be well-behaved and so on…’

‘Useful if I ever planned to have children,’ said Florence, ‘but I don’t see how that has anything to do with Harry and his cooking course.’

Sandra stood up and wandered over to the kitchen door and spoke to her husband through the gap, ‘Woman’s gossip, knock before you come in!’

Harry’s voice answered, ‘Yes honey,’ and she closed the door.

‘Not really a good idea for him to hear any of this,’ she said to her friends as she took her place on the sofa and picked up her glass. ‘What I found there, was intended for bringing up children, but it piqued my interest and I started to search for other sites with a similar theme. Basically what I found out was that poor little Harry could be manipulated with just a few simple rules that I just had to follow. Since then, just a couple of months ago I have been feeling my way to making a program to train him!’

‘Wow, and I thought that our husbands were beyond being nagged into doing what we want!’ laughed Laura. ‘The more that I tell him what to do the more he does the opposite…’

‘Ah, that’s where you get it all wrong,’ said Sandra. ‘That’s the point of it, all that ‘nagging’ and ‘telling’ is just so counterproductive. It just makes something that you want that man of yours to do, a punishment. Chores should be rewards and service should be a pleasure!’

‘Well, that’s all very well,’ said Laura, ‘but how can I order him to do something without nagging him? It’s the same with all of those useless maids, he never does anything the first time that I tell him to!’ I’ll swear that he grows roots…

‘Same here,’ agreed Florence. ‘When he’s got his ass on the sofa I virtually have to drag him by the hair to get him going!’

‘OK then, imagine that your husband is a like a pet that needs training and not a small child,’ said Sandra.

‘He’s like a dog that shits on the carpet, if the truth be told,’ said Laura with a giggle. ‘No hope!’

Sandra ignored Laura’s comment and carried on, ‘The only way that you can communicate with a pet is by tone of voice, physical contact, punishment and reward that is either food or a pat on the head. Yet we manage to train dogs to commands. So how does it work? It works almost entirely on reward and manipulation. Everything a dog does is either right or wrong. Reward the ‘right’ and ignore the ‘wrong’. It’s as simple as that!’

‘Yeah, right and like that’s gonna work!’ said Florence. ‘He sits on the sofa swilling beer and I ask him to do something and he doesn’t. So I ignore it and he learns that if he ignores me he gets peace and quiet. Not on my fucking watch he doesn’t!’

‘You’re right and so wrong,’ said Sandra. ‘Did you enjoy the meal? Here watch this… but, don’t say a word, just watch.’

She stood up and opened the door a crack. ‘Darling, would you mind pouring us all another Courvoisier and have we any more of those Dannemann cigars? You know the slim ones with the filters.’

‘Coming Sandra, just a sec…’

He emerged from the kitchen and smiled at the assembled women who all mutely offered their glasses for a top up. He placed a small wooden box on the table and said, ‘These are all we have left, should I pop out and get some more? The petrol station should still be open.’

‘No there is no need…’ Sandra leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. A small peck, but her hand reached and for a moment it brushed him below the waist and then slid up his chest to just touch his chin before it stopped and the contact was over.

‘Just be a dear and carry on with the cooking, we are all so looking forward to your surprise supper. We’ll just chatter away like the gossipmongers we are…’

He nodded and slipped back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. ‘I saw what you did there,’ said Florence, ‘now I get it, the rewards are sex! I’ll bet you have to be a real slut for this meal!’

From anyone but the three other women in the room, Sandra would have had a hot retort on her lips for the comment, but Florence was just like that. Direct and to the point with no hesitation.

‘Yep, in one, Florrie! Sex is the key, but not like that. Sex is the reward, but it’s all so very closely controlled. I only ask for things that I know that I’ll get from him. I never put him in a crisis of decision and then I immediately reward obedience with a small touch, a suggestion of sex, a reminder of heaven. This is the best thing girls…’

Sandra leaned forward as if conspiratorially and whispered, ‘It all works so well in bed that sex is becoming like a dreamland rapture for me. Some of the things that he refused to do, he does, some of the things that he always wanted have dropped away because I dislike them. Jesus, who wants to suck a cock anyway? The best is, Harry says that sex is the best it has ever been, even though we are doing everything that I want…’

‘So let’s get this straight, San,’ said Laura. ‘You train him to think of sex all the time, you build up routine of obedience and then you exploit that to move into new areas. I know what you’re up to!’

‘You do?’ asked Sandra in mock innocence.

‘When I worked as a teacher I remember going to a course in handling difficult children. In the eighties I think it was, though I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, but they had a name for this type of teaching therapy. Operator conditioning it was called…’

‘Operant Conditioning,’ said Florence. ‘I’ve heard of it somewhere, but never bothered…’

Excerpt from: Four Bitches