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Ella spent the night. Her soft, lithe body resting beside his, did nothing to help him rest. He listened to her snoring softly off and on throughout the night. He tried to sleep but his cock was stiff between his legs. He rolled around. He tossed. He turned. He worried about waking up Ella. If he did get up, he feared in twenty seconds flat he’d be at the computer, and one fourth of a second later, he’d be deep in porn with his hand on his cock, doing what it did best.



He wanted her on Saturday. He wanted her mouth. He could imagine it.



He finally risked leaving the bed anyway, closing the bedroom door, and retiring to his “workout” room. He stripped all the laundry from the treadmill and walked until he was too tired to keep moving. After a quick shower, he headed back to bed and noticed Ella had thrown off the covers, her arm draped over his empty spot. He gazed down at her arm and sighed. Slowly, carefully he lifted it and re-draped it over his belly as he slid in beneath it.



She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled in beside him.



He smiled to himself in the dark and kissed her on the top of the head, then closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.



He laid there for another hour while his mind chatted about sex and her mouth on his cock, and her hand on his cock, and how much he wanted her. She was soft and laying next to him. He could have her, but he couldn’t have her.



When he finally fell asleep it was with his erection at full mast, wondering where she was getting her ideas.



If Thursday was a bear, Friday was a total bitch. He left the computer off. He read, walked on the treadmill, tried to watch non-sexy movies, anything to keep the temptation at bay. After Wednesday, Ella had left him charged up. Blue balls, they called it, and they were for awhile; they ached. Then the aching faded, but somehow the fullness remained. More importantly, however, was the feelings outside of his pants. At work, he had tons of energy; he was charged up. On the drive to work, he thought about Ella’s mouth on his cock, and he got the mother of all hard-ons.



He needed a good solid distraction.



He thought about it and was a little disgusted with himself. It had only been a week. Only a week and he was antsy and feeling a little lost.



On Saturday, he was on his best behavior. He wore his cologne, wore the sport coat she liked, cleaned himself up. They went out to see a band with her friends. They danced a little, drank a little, and he generally doted on her.



David was a loose acquaintance. He was dating one of Ella’s friends. It was David who caught him in the bathroom and asked him if he was okay.



“Yeah, why?”



David asked in a hush. “I mean, you can tell me. You’re not dying or something? Ella’s not dying?”



“No. Why?”



“So, what’s with the whipped routine?’



Jim felt his stomach boil, his blood rise. “Fuck you. I’m not whipped.”



“Yeah, right. Every time she wants a drink. Every time she wants a dance. You fucking follow her around like a puppy. What’s going on, Man?”



He shook his head. “Look–” But what was he going to say? Was he going to tell him about the game? Was he going to tell him he wasn’t allowed to cum or to have an orgasm? Was he going to tell him that he’d just had an orgasm a week ago that had blown his mind?



He told the truth and lied simultaneously. “We were going to break up. Me and Ella, and we decided to give it another shot. Start over.”



David nodded. “Right, right. So, on your best behavior for awhile. I get it.”



Jim grinned and nodded. “You got it.”



Then he wondered if David did get it. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Maybe he was just going along with Ella’s little game until she got tired of it. If she hadn’t come up with the game, he would’ve done exactly what David had suggested. He didn’t like the idea, but he knew he would have. He would have been a good boy until everything settled down, then returned to his old, selfish ways.



He wanted to punch himself in the gut.



Once Ella had had enough dancing, Jim escorted her back to the car. She gave his crotch a little pat. “How’s everything?”



Jim smiled, but it was weak. “Fine.”



When they got home, Ella asked him what was wrong.



He didn’t want to say, but somehow it poured out of him. “I’m a lousy guy, Ella. I always have been. You deserve better. I love you, but I’m a selfish fuck.”



She put her arms around him, told him to stop, but he held her at arm’s length. “No. It’s true. You know it’s true. I’m not a good guy. I play at being a good guy, being all nice and supportive, but I’m not. I only want things for myself. I don’t really put out any energy for you.”



She sat heavily on the couch and reached for a tissue. “You’re not as bad as you think.”



He nodded, utterly depressed. “I’m not as good as you wish.”



They wallowed in the silence of the apartment for awhile, then Ella smiled. “Well, I do know one thing.”



He was practically pouting. “What’s that?”



“For the last two weeks, I’ve totally come first.”



He stared at her.



She stared back. “Haven’t I?”



He thought about it. “We were going to break up. Maybe I’m just doing this until you feel secure again.”



She laughed. “You’re just doing this because you’re horny as hell.”



It was contagious. He chuckled, which in no short order became a full out belly roll. “You have no fucking idea!”



She motioned him toward her. He collapsed onto the couch and sighed. “Feel better?” she asked.



He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I’m an asshole, Ella. Why are you with me?”



She reached over and began to rub his crotch. “We’re making a fresh start.”



He kissed her, and made it count.



She smiled and helped him out of his pants. “Do you want my mouth down there?”



He closed his eyes and moaned as if just the idea were too sweet to stand. “God, yes.”



She knelt between his legs and placed her warm mouth on him, feeling it grow in her hands, feeling it harden. The color changed; the tip leaked almost right away. He wasn’t just turned on; he was bursting at the seams. She remember her encouragement. She had to be strong. She had to be prepared for his reaction.



She drew him into her mouth until he shivered and sighed, feeling his cock growing even more. “Do you want me?” she whispered.



He moaned, wrapped his hand in her hair, but let it go, remembering she hated when he did that. “God, yes.”



She rubbed the underside of his leaking cock on the flat of her tongue and looked up at him. “Would you rather fuck me?”



His eyes popped open. He froze. “Yes.”



She swallowed his cock and gave him a long series of warm, wet strokes then paused and eyed him again. “If you want to fuck me, you can.”



His leg began to shake uncontrollably. “N-now?”



She gave his cock a long lick and gazed up at him again. “No, not now, but Wednesday.”



He blinked. “Wh-what?”



She wrapped her hand around his wet cock and began to stroke it gently. “It’s up to you. It’s your choice. You can cum in my mouth or–” She grinned and undid the buttons on her blouse. “–or you can cum inside me.”



He groaned miserably. “What the hell?”



“What?” she blinked. “What’s wrong?”



She was prepared. She knew it was a possibility.



He scowled at her. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Ella!”



She shrugged and let go of his cock. “It’s up to you. I gave you a choice.”



“Yeah, but–but–” He sighed and leaned forward and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’m going to explode if this keeps up. What if I do something bad? If you keep driving me this way . . . what if–”



She turned her face up to kiss him. “It’s all part of the plan.”



He sagged back on the couch, eyeing his cock, hard and leaking and at attention. “What’s the next part?”



She crawled up on the couch beside him. “I know you think this is all some sort of weird punishment, but it’s not.”



He noticed her hand was on his cock again. He couldn’t think clearly, and at the moment, he didn’t want to. “It feels like it.”



“You just complained about being selfish, but ever since we started this, you’ve been anything but selfish.”



“But . . . it’s artificial. It’s not the real me. It’s the me that needs to fuck you so bad he’ll be a totally–”



“Sweet, loving, caring boyfriend?” she provided.



He groaned. “You know what I mean.”



“Is it normal when I’m on the pill and I feel different? That’s artificial. I get weepy because of it; I gained weight because of it, but as I recall, you loved how girly I was. You said I was all soft and submissive the whole time.”



He frowned. “That’s different.”



“It’s not,” she told him and slowly slid her hand up and down his cock, kissing him on the cheek.



He turned to her with glazed eyes. “What happens when we stop this? I’m the same guy I was before.”



She smiled. “I told you, it’s all part of the plan.”



He shook his head. “It has to end some time.”



She gave him a few quick strokes, until he was sitting up and moaning loudly. She’d gotten him close. Even she was surprised. When she whipped her hand away, he lunged forward, groaning.



“You have a choice to make,” she said.



He looked at her as if he wanted to both kill her and fuck her or maybe just fuck her to death.



“Okay, okay.”



She was utterly shocked when he made his decision. Her friend had been right. She couldn’t wait to IM her. The plan was completely working.



* * *



Maybe her friend was a fortune teller or a psychic. Maybe she read tea leaves or chicken bones. However, she did it, she predicted what was to come. Ella had messaged her about what Jim had decided. Twice, he’d foregone an orgasm right then and there, for something better . . her. Twice, he’d proven, much to her shock, that he was capable of delayed gratification. This was going to work. The plan was going to do amazing things for them, and just like her friend said.



She felt different, too, felt herself changing. It wasn’t just teasing him and driving him up the wall with desire; it wasn’t just walking around all day knowing he was out there craving her. It was something more.



She felt a strange, new and wonderful sense of confidence. She’d always felt she was confident, but in some ways she thought maybe she was just pretending, hoping it would become real. Now, she had moments where she felt like a goddess. She’d read books like that, “Bringing Out the Goddess Within”, and she enjoyed them and tried to follow their advice, but it always came back to men. Men ruled the world. Men had the cocks and somehow that meant men got to say what happened in the relationship.



She knew that wasn’t completely true. She got to say who she dated and how long she dated them. She could say “no” to sex when she wasn’t in the mood, but she always felt guilty, felt obligated. In all of her relationships, she felt like she was the one doing the pleasing and they were the ones setting the standards.



When her friend messaged her back an hour later, it was not the encouraging response she’d expected.



‘Just be prepared for when he breaks.’



She sat in mute wonder for a few minutes, before replying. ‘What do you mean?’



‘You’ve wound him up very tight. If he breaks, you have to be prepared for that.’



‘He wouldn’t though, would he?’



‘The rules weren’t just for him, remember? You promised if he fell off the wagon, you wouldn’t get angry.’



But . . she was getting angry just thinking about it. He’d waited twice for her, why would he mess it all up now?



‘If you get angry,’ her friend warned, ‘he won’t want to play the game anymore.’



She fumed a little. ‘Okay, so I don’t get angry. Can I at least be disappointed?’



‘Lol Of course. That’s the whole point. If and when he breaks, and they usually do at some point, sometimes even as a test, he loses his “see you” privilege. He has to wait another week, but there are things he can do to earn “good boy points”. We can go into those. You’ll need to start spelling them out.’



She raised her eyebrows at that. She laughed. ‘Oh, “good boy points”? I like the sound of that.’



‘Remember, no negotiations are to take place unless you have your hand on his cock.’



She blushed. She had her own set of rules to follow that he didn’t know about, and that was number one. ‘Can I ask you something?’



‘Of course. That’s what I’m here for.’



‘Sooner or later he’s going to figure it out. Isn’t he going to get upset?’



‘He might, and you should be prepared for that as well, but by that time he’ll find he’s pretty well conditioned. It won’t be much of a choice. You’ll have become a habit he can’t and maybe is unwilling to break.’



Conditioned? Did she just say they were conditioning him? What a strange concept. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.



She’d sent him her usual text earlier: ‘Day one, having fun?’



He replied. ‘Not day one. Day seven.’



She smiled. He was right, of course. She’d forgotten he hadn’t actually cum. Odd that she’d thought they were starting over.



She texted back. ‘Day seven, in heaven?’



It took him forever to reply, which should’ve told her something. ‘Yes, a little too much.’



She texted him again: ‘Oh?’



After awhile, she got an alert for an email. He’d switched. That should’ve told her something, too. She read what he wrote.



‘Sorry, yes, got home Sunday and ended up on the computer. Couldn’t help myself.’



She felt her cheeks flush. Not angry though. She’d promised she would get angry. She took a couple of deep breaths and wrote back. ‘Aww. :( Did you get off? And you were doing so well.’



‘No, but I got close. I mean, twitching and everything. Got REALLY close. Really wanted to, but didn’t want to screw up Wednesday. Not sure if I can make it.’



She hadn’t expected that. What kind of consequences did that bring? There was no time for her to message her friend, and no guarantee she’d be on. ‘Hmm, can you make it till Tuesday?’



His response was quick. ‘Yes!’



She smiled, then he sent her another email. ‘You’re not mad?’



She replied: ‘Not mad. Not even disappointed. You’re trying so hard. That means something to me. You’re REALLY trying. Things will get easier.’



She’d been promised that things would get easier; she wasn’t sure if she believed that anymore than he did.



* * *







On Tuesday, he was tender, apologetic. He was feeling rough. She could see that. He was needy, almost too attentive. She felt like she was a lamb and he was a wolf. His looks had that expression, that intensity. “I want to eat you.”



It was a little frightening, but a little thrilling, too.



She also felt something else. She felt that goddess-like feeling again. He was all man, all power, all libido and he could’ve grabbed her and stripped her and taken her anytime he wanted, and she could’ve fought tooth and nail, but she probably wouldn’t have for very long. But he didn’t do those things (even if a part of her wanted him to); he was restrained. Somehow, her friend had helped engineer a dam. He was on his best behavior again, tending to her every need.



She didn’t dress in lingerie. He hadn’t earned that. She had jeans and a blouse; though a very nice blouse, and both a little tight fitting. His eyes roamed over her every chance they got.



He swallowed nervously, almost with guilt. “So, uh, what’s the plan for tonight?”



He was being coy. What he was really asking was, “can we please finally have sex?”



She kissed him and patted his cheek. “You’ve been awfully good.”



He helped her out of her coat, hung it up like she liked rather than just dropping it on the chair by the door.



She walked into the living room and added, “For the most part.”



Blushing, he presented himself to her, eyes down. “Look, I’m sorry about that. It just happened.”



She smiled and rubbed her thumb across his lips. “Oh, I know. Things happen. It was bound to happen, and still you didn’t get off. That’s very impressive.”



He moaned, his eyelids fluttering. She felt it in her bones, the Goddess. Just from her touch, he was experience bliss. She was taken aback by it, more than a little. She tried not to let it show.



He shook his head, sat next to her on the couch, very close. “It . . . wasn’t easy. I swear. It just snuck up on me.”



Her smile was tender, understanding. “I know. But . . . there are consequences.”



He groaned miserably, bowed his head, wrapped his arms around her and cuddled up next to her. “What are you going to do to me now?”



She kissed the top of his head. “Nothing you won’t enjoy.”



When he raised his head, showed her his eyes, they were filled with need. “I’ll do anything.”



It was enough to make her raise her eyebrows. She giggled. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”



He grinned from ear to ear. “You’re enjoying this.”



She gave him a sideways look. “You’re not?”



He nodded, eyes down, collecting his thoughts, searching. “I am . . . I just–I’m not sure where it’s leading.”



“Well,” she said softly, and cuddled against him, “I know it’s been a kind of torture, but the last three weeks have been really nice.”



He nodded, eyes twinkling. “They have. You’ve been happy. I’m glad you’ve been happy. I want you to be happy.”



She gazed deep into his eyes, whispering, “I want you to be happy, too.”



He swallowed, unable to hold her gaze for very long. “I think . . . I think I’ve been pretty happy the last couple of weeks. I’ve certainly gotten a lot of things done at home.”



“Oh?”



“Well,” he admitted, “it’s trying to keep myself busy, so I won’t–you know. . . .”



“Good,” she nodded. “Then you won’t mind the consequences.”



He shot her a look. “Uh oh.”



She giggled and pointed to the back of the couch, pretending to be commanding. “Lap dance position.”



He didn’t just get into position; he snapped to it as if she were a barking Sargent. She was shocked at how quickly he leapt up, repositioned himself on the couch and threw his arms up on the back.



‘You’re conditioning him.’ The thought cycled through her head. ‘Jesus, is that what I’m doing? Does he know? What if he figures it out?’



She pushed the thought aside and snuggled up next to him, releasing his straining his cock from his pants, remembering her instructions. ‘Talk low and soft. You never have to demand anything, just suggest. If he’s in the right frame of mind, he’ll do anything you ask of him.’



* * *



‘You feel guilty?’



Ella typed as fast as she could. ‘How can I not feel guilty?’



‘We all felt guilty when we first started.’



She was seriously considering ending the little game, convinced it was going to ruin their relationship. ‘Okay, well, with good reason?’



‘You’re feeling guilty because you’re controlling him and he doesn’t know it? Because he trusts you and you’re abusing that trust?’



She felt a tremble in her hands as she typed. She was already sniffling, holding back tears. ‘Yes.’



‘I understand. We all felt that way at first.’



‘At first?’



‘Let me ask you. Does he really not know you’re manipulating him? Is he that stupid?’



She frowned. ‘He’s not stupid, no.’



‘And he could stop at anytime? He could just say that he didn’t want to play anymore?’



‘Yes, I suppose. He’s afraid I’m going to end the relationship if he does though.’



‘Is he enjoying himself?’



She wiped away the tears and felt the grin on her face. He was enjoying himself or seemed to be. He whined and moaned and groaned and complained, but he was in heaven the second she walked in the room. She could see it in his eyes. It was almost like . . . adoration, worship. ‘Yes, but I think we both keep thinking how long can we keep this up?’



‘It gets easier. It does. I promise. For both of you. After awhile, you won’t have to do so much. Just a little touch here or there, a little chat here or there and he’ll be floating and you’ll be so in love with the attention that you’ll wonder how you did with out.’



That was already true. It was addictive. The attention he gave her was complete. She felt like a bright burning star in a dark sky. Wherever she went, she could feel his focus on her, his attention. He couldn’t get enough of her. His desire for her had deepened, broadened. He no longer seemed to just want what was on her chest and between her legs; their kisses had become electric. He moaned during them, actually moaned aloud. He gave her foot massages, leg massages, rubbed her shoulders. She would glance over at him and see his eyes glazed over with pleasure just staring at her skin, watching his own thumbs run over it, studying the shape of her. He noticed what she was wearing, noticed how she wore her hair . . . every single time. She couldn’t change a single detail without him catching it and commenting on it.

It was the strangest thing. She’d never considered herself a girl with particularly high libido, but in the last few weeks she felt . . . almost like a guy. She’d be at work, in traffic, in line at the grocery store and her mind would drift to Jim. Jim, holding back, thinking of her. Jim, putting her groceries away before she could handle a single bag. Jim, waiting for the slightest nod of approval from her, the slightest touch, the slightest smell of her. Jim, with bulging pants and desperate eyes.



Two days ago, he’d confessed he’d gone into her bathroom, found her perfume and stroked himself thinking of her. This from the man who jerked off to porn daily.



She pondered that while she maneuvered the car onto the highway. She’d followed her friend’s advice and so far it had worked amazingly well. She was the girl in his mind when he touched himself. She had become his porn.



She made it home alive; her mind had been distracted by him. She’d been on automatic the entire way. When she saw his car in her guest parking spot, she felt a little thrill. She began to smile; she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t wait to see him. The expression that spread over his face when he saw her was priceless; adoring, happy, excited.



She’d teased him once. “You’re like a happy little puppy, aren’t you?”



To her surprise, he’d agreed.



He was out the door and walking toward her. He must have been waiting at the window for her car. “Anything to carry in?”



She shook her head. “Just me.”



He wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair. “I get to carry you in?”



She giggled like a teenager. “I’ll break your back.”



He grabbed her by the hips and pressed his lips into hers. “You couldn’t be more perfect.”



Her cheeks burned with an embarrassed smile. She started to move past him, but she couldn’t help herself. She pressed her lips into his, wettened it, let herself go hot, feeling the heat of their mouths intermingle. When she finally pulled away, she felt that familiar tension, needing release, that internal melting sensation. “Let’s–” she breathed, “–let’s get inside.”



They hurried, ran-walked to the door. He grabbed at her and grabbed at her again, every few feet, letting her go and catching her, a cat playing with a mouse, pressing his erection into her ass, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, kissing the back of her neck until she shivered, nibbling behind her ear.



They were hot and naked in no time. She flung herself onto the bed and pulled him on top of her. He hesitated, looking concerned.



She blinked. “What’s wrong?”



He blinked. “Do you want to–are we–are we going to?”



She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted herself up to his taste his mouth again. “Mmm, I certainly hope so.”



He gently unwrapped her arms. “But–but I’m so close. Only a few more days.”



Her jaw dropped with shock. She laughed. “Jim . . . are you serious?”



He was turning pale. “I have . . uh . . rules, remember?”



She blinked and grinned. “It’s just a game.”



He stood and stared down at her. “Don’t say that.”



She let her mouth hang open further. “Sweetheart, this was all about bringing us closer together, not keeping us apart.”



He reached out and laid his hand aside her cheek, traced the shape of her lips with his thumb. “I’ve never felt closer to you.”



She shook her head. “But–but I want . . . you know?”



“I only have three days left. If I blow it now–”



She laughed, her cheeks beet red. “Is that what you’re talking about?”



He frowned. “Of course.”



She knelt on the side of the bed, wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed him, hot, deep and sweet. “Oh, Honey . . . you’re not going to cum.”



He blinked. “Wh-what? But I thought you wanted–”



“Of course I do! I get to cum, remember?”



“But, Ella,” his frowned deepened, “there’s no way I can do that and not cum.”



Ella smiled. Her friend had thought of everything, even this. “Yes you can. Trust me.”



He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face into the soft span of skin between her shoulder and neck. “I won’t even last a second. I’m telling you.”



She moaned, guided his hand down to her belly, pushing it further until it got the hint. He slipped his hard man’s hand down over her mound and pressed his fingers between her lips. She wasn’t just wet; she was soaking. “Get the condoms, Baby.”



He pulled the draw open, ripped open the package and rolled it on to his stiff sock.



She sprawled back onto the bed and stretched, letting her skin go taut over her ribs, letting her tits bob upward, feeling empty and somehow incomplete, her eyes drifting from his collar bone down to his cock. He’d lost a lot of weight. She grinned.



She looked up at him, feeling the smolder of her eyes. “Ride me, Cowboy.”



He laughed which made her laugh.



He couldn’t wait to shut her up. He fell on top of her, jerked her thighs open, wide open, opened his mouth against her open mouth and bit her chin, sliding himself inside, deep.



She gasped.



Together, they began to rock back and forth in perfect synchronicity, him thrusting, her responding to his thrust. He watched her breasts shudder with each stroke.



He pulled out, his face red and covered with sweat.



She moaned, “No, don’t stop.”



He shook his head, his eyes down, looking ashamed. “I . . I can’t.”



“You can’t?”



He could barely get the words out. “Too . . . Too close.”



She grinned. “Get another condom.”



His eyes blinked up. “What?”



“You always say you don’t feel as much with them, right?”



He nodded. “Some, yes.”



“So put one on.”



“I’ve already got one on.”



She laughed. “I know. Put another one on.”



His eyes went wide. “Oh . . . right.”



He went back to the night stand, ripped open another package and slipped another condom over the first, chuckling. “Doubled bagged for your protection.”



She started to reply, but he was on her, in her, and he was thrusting.



She had a brief moment where she wondered what her friend would say. Was this right? Was it okay for him to do this to her? To be on top? Then she didn’t care; the pleasure was coursing through her, building and releasing. She felt herself tensing again; he changed his rhythm. She could’ve cursed him, but then she was lost in the new rhythm again, the new pleasure, the new surging, the new thrusting.



He stretched her like a gymnast, tossing her to the side, thrusting into her, changing the angle, desperate to get that sensation, that feeling of fucking. He got all the motion, some of the heat, but barely any of the tingling friction. He thrust harder, faster, threw her back into position, flung her legs over his shoulders, drove himself into her until she flooded and moaned.



He glanced up at her for a second, but drove himself deeper into her, desperately seeking something, anything, just a little friction. Her fresh wetness had robbed him of even that. He thought about ripping off one condom, but he’d been down that road. He’d cum if he did and he only had three days left to go. It was a matter of pride now. Besides, if he was good, maybe she’d edge him, drain him, let him cum without an orgasm. God, he needed an orgasm.



He chewed on her breasts until she said “ow” then softened is mouth around her nipples, sucking them inside his hot mouth, pulling on them. She was all wet and open, barely anything left to fuck, just a hot wet opening, like fucking a jacuzzi.



He shoved himself deep inside and fucked her that way, hoping her inferno would penetrate the layers of latex sealing his needy cock away. He pulled out and tried grinding his cock down against the ridge of her opening, then tried to get some heat through the latex again, feeling something hard and indistinct deep inside her.



She flooded again and gasped, her hands clutching at his arms.



Finally, after a long futile search, he ran out of breath.



They were covered in sweat and she was glowing, her cheeks pink, her skin slick, her eyes glazed over.



She smiled softly. “Done already?”



He shook his head, aware of the spatter of sweat he sprinkled over her beautiful breasts. “I can’t–can’t get any feeling.”



“None at all?”



He shook his head again, ducked down to lick the salty perspiration off her belly. He wanted to devour her whole, split her open and consume her. “Just . . . a hint. Enough to drive me crazy.”



She giggled. “Take’em off.”



He blinked, his eyes worried. “What are you going to do?”



She raised her eyebrows.



He pulled the condoms from his swollen cock. She rolled him over, straddled him and let her fingers play with his erection. His face twisted and strained, his body tense. “Please, don’t.”



She crawled over him, her breasts just touching his chest, her hair tickling his shoulders. “I want to feel you inside me.”



He shook his head. “No, I won’t be able–”



“Quiet.” She held his cock in her hands and lowered herself onto him, inhaling deep as it filled her, moaning. “God, that feels good.”



He swung his arms up, mimicking his couch position, hands clutching at the sheet, pulling the fitted corner loose, exposing the bare mattress. “It’s too good, Ella. I can’t handle it.”



She pulled her body and up and slipped him deep inside of herself. “How many strokes do you think before you lose it?”



He shook his head, his body trembling. “I . . . I don’t know.”



“How many, Jim?”



He thrashed on the bed. “I don’t know.”



She reached out and grabbed his chin, feeling so full of pleasure and power she almost felt she could cum again. It wouldn’t take much. “How many?”



He blinked, his gaze frozen by her penetrating stare. “F-five.”



She smiled and thrust herself down on top of him. “One.”



She did it again. “Two.”



Again. “Three.”



He tensed, arched his back. “No! Please–”



She remembered her mentor’s advice. She’d had plenty of practice over the last few weeks during their draining sessions. She was getting good at it.



“Tell me something, Baby.”



“Wh-what?”



“Um,” she grinned, “let’s start easy. When’s my birthday?”



He blinked. “Wh-what?”



“My birthday. What day? Don’t tell me you don’t remember!” She gave herself another stroke, sitting down on him, penetrating herself with his cock while he trembled, her thighs burning. Distracting him from the fact that she was fucking him was delicious. His cluelessness was more exciting than she could ever have expected.



He blinked, stammered. “J-July eighth.”



She patted his cheek and thrust down onto him again. His eyelids began to waver again. “What about our anniversay?”



“O-our anniversay?”



She nodded, sucking on her bottom lip, fucking herself on his hard cock, feeling the heat in her build, the tension, the clutching fist somewhere inside her, waiting to explode and release.



“August.”



“August when, Baby?”



“Twenty-third.”



She gave his cheek a pat. “Good boy.”



He closed his eyes and began to arch his back again.



She interrupted his pleasure yet again, broke his concentration. “What about our other anniversary?”



“Our–what?”



She fucked herself nice and slow, sat down flat until he was deep inside her and began to slowly buck her pelvis back and forth, feeling his hardness fill her, levering it back and forth deep inside. “The anniversary of when we met.”



“Oh . . . shit.”



She grinned. “You don’t remember?”



He shook his head. “It was a month earlier. Your . . friend introduced us.”



“July, Baby.” She had it now, the electricity was on, the current flowing nicely. She bucked her hips and felt his cock banging inside her, hitting just the right way, her clit grinding against his pelvic bone.



“Yeah, July.”



“Do you remember what I was–”



It shot through her, exploding at first between her legs, then flowing like magma up into her belly, her nipples twitching, her spine sending spasms up to the back of her neck and shoulders. She flooded again, feeling extra squishy. She finished her sentence, nearly breathless. “–wearing.”



His eyes shifted uncomfortably in his head.



She collapsed on top of him. “That was a lot more than five strokes.”



She felt his body tense beneath her. She slipped off him and snuggled up under his arm, throwing her leg over his, turning them into a cuddly pretzel.



He looked down at her with shock. “How did you do that?”



She turned her face up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I didn’t. You did. I just distracted you so you could keep your promise.”



His mind began to reel.



* * *



He lasted less than a minute. She didn’t mind. All the waiting, all the whining, all the attention she received was truly enough to last a lifetime, even though it wouldn’t. She was a little sad that the game was over, but her friend just gave her smiley faces and wouldn’t answer her questions. Simple questions like, ‘Okay, so what now?’



Smiley face.



Ella didn’t know what it meant, except that it was her mentor’s way of saying, ‘You’ll find out.’



When she’d texted her friend and told her of Jim’s reaction to having sex with her, there had only been one simple reply. ‘He’s hooked.’



She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was the kind of thing gold diggers said, the kind of things manipulative women did to get their man, their husband or someone else’s. She was not really a manipulative woman. Although, if she’d been taught anything in the last 30 days, it was that she could be. She could be as manipulative as any of the worst women on Earth. She could be and it was starting to seem like Jim wanted her to be.



He collapsed beside her, breathless, his mess on her belly. He turned to her and kissed her softly. She smiled at him. “Was it worth the wait?”



He laughed and fell back onto his pillow, draping his arm over his face. “You have no idea.”



She reached down and gave his limp penis a little wag, then pointed to the mess on her belly. “I have some idea, I think.”



He kissed her shoulder. “Sorry about that. Want me to clean it off for you?”



She shook her head, blushing. “I need to go pee anyway.”



She spent a few minutes in the bathroom taking care of business, straightened her wild tangle of auburn hair as much as she could and returned to the bed, humming with delight as she slid in next to his warm body.



“So, that’s it,” she sighed. “Your 30 days are up.”



He nodded. “I guess so.”



She attuned her ears to the sound of his voice. Did he sound sad or happy?



He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “You know . . . I gotta admit. I had this real fear that you wouldn’t let me cum anyway.”



She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”



His grin broadened. He blushed. “Yes. It was a bizarre thing I know.”



“But that wouldn’t have been fair. I had to keep my promise.”



He played with her hair, sweeping it from her face, letting his gaze rove over her exposed curves. “I know, but I concocted a whole way for you to get around that . . . in my fantasy, I mean.”



She laughed. “What way was that?”



He blanched a little. “I don’t know. It’s . . . stupid, you know?”



She pretended to pout. “Pretty please?”



He chuckled, but his eyes went soft, his gaze suddenly becoming intense. “I can’t resist you. Not even a little.”



She blushed and smiled. “Good. Now tell me.”



He squirmed a little. “Jesus, Ella, when you bark at me like that–”



She gazed up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry.”



He stared at her. “No . . . I mean, when you bark at me like that . . uh . . . it’s sort of a turn on.”



She blinked. “You’re kidding.”



He laughed, his face beet red. “I know. What a weirdo, right? But it’s true. I don’t know what happened, but every now then just . . . whenever, you wouldn’t ask, you’d just kind of tell me something and I’d just get this big kick out of it.”



“What kind of kick?” She rolled to her side, watching his eyes study the way her breasts rose and fell. She propped her head up with her arm and traced circles in the thin line of hair leading from his chest to his belly.



He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just . . . like a thrill. I mean, I’m not usually like that, but I think because I wanted to cum so bad, it was just . . . maybe it was just the attention or that you were doing what you wanted with me. Weird, I know.”



“No, not weird.”



He gazed deep into her eyes. “Really?”



She smiled. “Very sexy. Um, a surprise. I kept catching myself doing that and feeling bad about it. I didn’t mean to do it, but every now and then I would realize my tone got kind of–”



“Stern?” he provided, smiling with hungry eyes.



She blushed. “I was going to say harsh.”



He shook his head. “It didn’t feel harsh. It felt–” He took a deep breath. “–really exciting.”



She giggled. It was weird. He was weird, but if he was, than so was she, because she knew what he meant. There would be a moment when she barked an order at him, much harsher than she intended, a moment where she held her breath, then felt the same thrill when he obeyed her. It was something about his height, his manliness, his strength. He could pick her up with one arm, overpower her with little effort, but somehow when she spoke, he fell under her spell.



She wagged her finger at him, trying to be harsh and stern, but failing because of the giggles. “Tell me your fantasy. Now! Or else!”



He grinned. “Or else what?”



She broke into a blushing laugh. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought of anything yet.”



He kissed her, snuggled close and whispered in her ear. “My fantasy was that we would get up to that magic moment and you would tell me you’d changed your mind, that I couldn’t cum after all. And when I complained that it wasn’t fair, you’d tell me that for thirty days I’d promised to follow any rules you had set. And I would say I had. And then you would say that you’d decided your next rule was that thirty days wasn’t enough. That you were extending it another thirty days and if I didn’t like it, you’d make sure I never came again.”



She looked at him wide-eyed. “That’s so mean though!”



He laughed. “I know, I know.”



She snuggled closer, rolled to her other side, away from, feeling him turn with her, his hairy man-arms wrapping around her. She brought up his hands and cuddled with them, squirming her ass back into him, marveling at the feeling of something growing harder behind her.



“God,” he panted, “I want you again.”



She smiled and closed her eyes. “Maybe you can last a little longer this time.”



He gave her a gentle squeeze and nibbled on her neck. “Longer than thirty days?”



She twisted around to get a look at his eyes. “What do you mean?”



He smiled, his eyes focused on her lips, his cock poking between her ass cheeks, slipping between her thighs. “Let’s go again.”



She swallowed. “Go where?”



He kissed her hard. “Another thirty days.”



She thought about it and slurped his tongue into her mouth, pausing just long enough to catch her breath. “No.”



He froze, his body tensing next to her soft, relaxed figure. “No?”



“Not thirty. This time . . . let’s make it sixty.”



Her heart thudded in her chest. Her stomach rolled and turned the same way it did when she was at the top of a roller coaster. She was beyond excited. She was almost nervous with fear and arousal.



He swallowed deeply, his throat clacking, his mouth dry. His gaze grew intense. “Okay.”



She smiled. “Enjoy tonight. Enjoy me, because it’s going to be your last cum for a long, long time.”



He sighed with anxious pleasure and did just that.



* * *



Her friend, her mentor was not forthcoming. ‘He’s not quite ready yet.’



‘Ready for what?’



‘These things should be approached gently and in stages.’



‘For me or him?’



She didn’t know why she continued to doubt her. She’d been right every step of the way, but still she wondered if this was the kind of relationship she wanted with Jim. Was this the type of person she wanted to be? Was it the type of person Jim wanted to be?



She distrusted her arousal. She distrusted his. She distrusted how good it felt.

At the moment, after a few weeks of teasing and not cumming, of draining without any real orgasm, Jim was not exactly in his right mind. Was this the way it would be from now on? Her manipulating him until he was desperate with need and willing to do anything, offering anything just for a smile and a kiss?



There had been new rules. No begging. No whining. No asking for sex. They were on her schedule, whatever she decided that was. No disagreements or arguments. He could state his case once and once only, and have one follow up question or remark, but it couldn’t be sarcastic, angry or pouty in tone. There would be weekly discussions at the time of her choosing, but usually on Sunday. During these discussions, he could speak freely: What was working for them? What wasn’t? What did he like? What did she like? What didn’t they?



Only now their discussions didn’t take place with her hand on his cock. They took place with them cuddled on the couch, with her legs in his lap and him giving her a foot massage. He was getting better and better at it. His internet history (another new rule: he was not to clear the cache or cookies and she could look whenever she pleased) revealed he’d been watching YouTube videos on foot massages and reading instructional sites.



During the discussions, his eyes were glued to her beautiful feet. He always commented on the color of her nail polish, always exhibited flushed cheeks, tented pants, and always found himself confessing terrifyingly deep thoughts to her, including some deep fantasies he’d always attempted to keep secret. He didn’t know why it happened, but for some reason these things just seemed to spill out of him.



She wasn’t allowed, she’d been told by her mentor, to get upset by his fantasies or to be turned off by them. She had to be open and accepting. She didn’t have to fulfill the ones she didn’t like, but she should make an effort to incorporate some of his ideas into her daily routine, her teasing of his cock, her text messages, emails and phone calls. The more she did so, her friend promised, the more Jim would fall under her spell.



He was firmly under her spell already, even though she wasn’t sure that was she wanted.



Once, when getting into his car, she’d made a casual remark about the window shield being a little dirty. The next thing she knew, he was whipping into a gas station for a car wash. She hadn’t meant anything by it; it was just an observation, but she noted the entire time he’d been squirming, his face flushed. After the giant foamy brushes had finished, he’d turned to her and asked, “Is that better, Ella?”



It hadn’t been angry; it had been pure arousal.



She called him a good boy in jest, but he moaned in earnest, moaned like he did when she was teasing his cock.



For the rest of the day, she’d had a lump in the pit of her belly, a wound up tension, like a ball of wire wrapped tightly around something wet, slippery and hot. She was turned on. Not just turned on, but on fire. They’d spent the entire day together feeling that way.



What was next on the agenda? Her friend wouldn’t say, which of course only made her more curious.



She thought about that day, when he’d been turned on by washing his car for her, when she’d been turned on by how quickly he’d jumped to obey her, even though she hadn’t intended it.



She perused her memory of it, what had happened later, savoring it.



She caught him in the living room that night, only moments after having arrived home. She called his name, and he turned. She motioned him toward her with a crooked finger.



She could feel the heat between them, the electricity. It was almost too intense, almost overwhelming.



Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, and pressed. He acquiesced almost at once, lowering himself to his knees. She placed her hand on his head then, bringing it toward herself.



He knelt there, breathing raggedly, staring at her skirt, inhaling, hoping to catch a whiff of her natural perfume.



Her whisper was all it took, soft and commanding. “Go on.”



He didn’t just go down on her; he threw himself into her. He was all tongue and lips, mouth sucking at her clit, lips swimming over her swollen lips, teeth on her thighs.



He was on his knees, worshiping.



She came quickly and stumbled back weak-kneed.



He caught her, lowered her to the couch, pampered her.



They barely exchanged a word, only what was necessary.



That was the night their relationship changed. A real change. A significant change.



That was the night she told him to fetch her a blanket only to hear him reply, without humor this time, “Yes, Ma’am.”



She almost missed it. It felt . . . natural.



She asked him if he wanted to cum and he replied, “No, Ma’am.”



“Why not?”



“Because I’d rather get you off.”



What was next? She had to know. She messaged her friend, but the next level, the next step was not forthcoming. ‘Not yet.’



‘When?’ she’d replied.



‘You’ll know.’



And she did.



* * *



She thought about it and thought about it again. She fantasized about it on the way to work, at work, on the way home, whenever she had a quiet moment.



All that power. All that muscle. He was taller than her, stronger than her, broader than her. His hand could wrap around her small wrist with his finger overlapping his thumb. If he wanted to pick her up, it was easy. All that ego. All that stubbornness. At her command. Moving under her direction. His desire captured by her, awaiting her whim for its release.



It caught in her chest like a furious fluttering butterfly. She couldn’t get rid of it. She could put her hand on his shoulder and he would wordlessly sink to his knees and worship her.



Her sheerest whim (“The window is a bit dirty”) had him scrambling to please her.



Should she be worried abut this?



Would she take things too far? Even that question in her mind told her how far they’d come. Would “she” take things too far? Not, would “he” let things go too far?’



She wanted to bring it up in their discussion, but she didn’t get the chance.



She hadn’t been counting the days, but he had. He beamed with pride, couldn’t wait to call her attention to it. Except for their “draining” sessions, when she brought him close enough for the cum to leak out in a frustrating warm dribble, but not close enough for him to have an orgasm (she’d gotten relatively good at that, she thought), he hadn’t had an orgasm in 31 days.



He’d beaten his old record, he said.



She hadn’t been aware that had been a record.



On his knees, gazing up into her eyes, with all of the solemnity of a preacher on Judgment Day, he said, “I was thinking we should, uh, move in together.”



She blinked, and blinked again. “What?”



His eyes flashed with concern. “It seems like it’s time, you know. We’ve been getting along so well, I thought.”



She nodded, her eyes gazing down upon him. “We have.”



He swallowed and separated himself from her, removing his hands from her legs, but not quite daring to stand. After a torturous silence, he asked, “So?”



“So . . . I’d like to think about it.”



He froze, his eyes wide. “You want to think about it?”



“Yes.”



He studied her face, the words dropping like lead weights from his lips. “Fine. Let me know.”



It was the most unpleasant evening they’d had since their little game had begun. She tried cuddling with him on the couch, and while he didn’t push her away, his body had never truly relaxed. He was cuddling out of obligation, not desire.



She got the hint.



They watched TV and went to bed, he on his side, she on hers.



It was surprising how quickly their closeness could disappear. She was more than a little heartbroken. She was angry; she felt she’d disappointed him. She argued with herself. He’d caught her off guard. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move in with him; she just worried that he would regret it later. She worried that with all those orgasm chemicals in his brain, unreleased, maybe he wasn’t quite in his right mind.



Her friend, as always, had words of encouragement. ‘Do you love him?’



Of course she loved him. She’d been in love with him for over a year, but never more passionately than in the last few months. ‘Yes, and I know he loves me.’



‘Then, what’s the problem?’



‘The problem is he isn’t exactly himself right now.’



A confused, eye rolling smiley appeared. ‘How so?’



Was she serious? ‘Well, because he hasn’t had an orgasm for a month. He’s not thinking clearly.’



‘Hmm.’



Ella was a little irritated. ‘What does hmmm mean?’



‘It means, I think that he is in his right mind. You aren’t.’



She was ready to throw her laptop at the wall. ‘What do you mean?’



‘I mean, that you keep suggesting that he’s in some kind of trance, under your spell, and that some day he’ll return to normal. What if this is normal?’



‘But,’ she typed slowly, her nails hammering the keys, ‘it’s not.’



‘You’re suggesting that if he doesn’t have an orgasm every day, which made him and you unhappy, that he’s not in his normal frame of mind.’



Ella’s frustration waned slightly. ‘Well, something like that.’



‘Well, I’m not an anthropologist, but I’m guessing back in the days before we all had TVs and air conditioning and computers, we were busy surviving, farming, working in factories. I have a feeling men were far more stressed and exhausted back then, and I doubt they had the time or energy to sit in their comfy office chairs and touch themselves all day.’



Damn it all if she wasn’t making sense. She could feel her opinion turning and wasn’t she wanted it to be turned. ‘Maybe.’



‘It’s only been the last century or so that men have had all this leisure time, all this free time to visit strip bars, to have porn at their fingertips 24/7. Not to mention the effect of all the advertising and how everything is completely sexual all the time. For all the effect that those pictures of perfect, airbrushed female bodies have on us, they have an equal effect on men.’



She thought about it, but couldn’t quite commit. ‘You’re trying to convince me what we’re doing is normal.’



‘No, Sweetheart. I’m telling you that Jim jerking off every day to porn that is always available to him at any time day or night is NOT normal. I’m suggesting that if you ask him, he’ll choose the life you have now over the life you had a few months ago. He’s HAPPY. And so are you.’



‘So,’ she typed back, her nails barely making contact with the keys, ‘you’re saying I should move in with him?’



‘I’m saying that it’s your choice. If you love him and you want to move in with him, you should. If you have really good reasons not to, then you shouldn’t. It has to be your decision. But you’re missing a critical point.’



‘What’s that?’



‘Punishment.’



She felt her eyes reading the word again and again. ‘What do you mean?’



‘I mean, he wanted something, didn’t get it and turned into a pouty baby. You can’t let that pass. He needs to be punished and you need to be the one to do it. It’s time for him to learn how to handle this type of thing, what to do, what to say, what not to do and say. And, honestly, it’s time for you to woman up and accept that you are the one in charge of him and your relationship.’



She removed the laptop from her lap and sat up. She stared at the wall, but it offered no advice. She stood and paced for a moment, her mind in a whirr. Carrying the laptop to the breakfast bar, she settled into a chair and renewed her conversation, ignoring the ‘Hello?’ message.



‘How?’ she asked, and her friend sent her a smirking smiley face and explained everything.



* * *



She set her briefcase down on the dinner table and smelled hot oil and vegetables. He was cooking for her every evening, despite never having been asked. She pondered that little puzzle; he was obviously still mad at her, but still serving her. Had it become such a habit that he didn’t even think about it anymore?



He turned and gave her a fleeting smile, his eyes dropping quickly. “Hey.”



“Hi,” she said. “Smells good.”



“It’s done when you’re ready.”



She removed her suit coat and draped it over the back of the bar chair. “Can we talk first please?”



He stiffened, refusing to meet her gaze. “What about?”



“Not here,” she ordered. “In the living room please.”



She heard him ask, “What for–” but she’d already left the room.



When he turned the corner, he saw her sitting on the couch, legs crossed at the knee, hands in her lap. She had sexy legs, and she was still wearing her heels. Usually she took them off at the door.



He approached her and lowered himself to his usual “discussion” position, beside her on the couch. She snapped her fingers at him. “No, no, on the floor please.”



He frowned. “You want me to sit on the floor?”



“You can kneel if you prefer, but you’re taller than me, so even when you sit beside me my neck gets tired from having to look up at you.”



He blinked and frowned. It wasn’t that he hadn’t knelt for her before; he’d spent quite a lot of time kneeling with his face buried between her thighs. It was the fact this didn’t feel like a sexual situation. It felt like something entirely different.



He reluctantly lowered himself to a kneeling position and watched as she dangled her heel from her toes.



“Would you mind?” she asked with a sweet tone.



He removed her shoe and set it on the floor.



She smiled and lifted her other foot to him. His eyes flashed with concern, but he removed her other shoe and set it next to the first. He was looking uncomfortable.



“So,” she whispered, “you’re angry with me?”



He put his hands on his hips, trying to look casual, but it didn’t work, so he sat back on the floor and leaned back. “No. I’m fine.”



“But . . you’re upset?”



He shrugged. “Not really.”



“Because, you’ve been acting that way. This is because you asked me to move in with you, right?”



He shrugged again, sat up. “Hey, if you don’t want to, you don’t want to.”



She crossed her legs and remembered the advice of her mentor. “So, last chance. Do you want to talk about this?”



He gazed up at her and sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”



“Okay,” she nodded. “If you don’t want to talk, then you can listen. So, no talking at all from now on. Do you understand?”



His eyes hardened. “Sure. Fine. Talk.”



She placed her stockinged foot on his thigh and watched his eyes flit down to study it. “You’ve really hurt my feelings the last couple of days.”



His head bobbed up. “I’ve hurt your–”



She placed her finger over her lips. “Shush. I gave you a chance, remember?”



He turned red and simmered, motioning for her to continue.



“Yes, Jim. Everything was going so well. I loved that you asked me to move in with you, and I know–” She corrected herself, remembering yet more advice from her friend from the DT website. “I suspect that you’re upset with me because I didn’t jump right into your arms the second you asked. But . . . that was because the first thought that hit my head was, ‘Is he going to regret this?””



He placed a hand on the couch. “This is silly, Ella. Can’t I sit on the couch? I mean . . . it’s hard to talk to you this way.”



“You don’t have to talk to me, Jim. In fact, we agreed you had your chance and you’re supposed to be listening, and I don’t see how sitting on the couch could help you listen any better. You’re not doing such a great job of listening on your–”



She stopped herself, and took a breath. Friend’s advice, ‘Don’t get mad. NEVER get mad. There are other ways.’



“Please, just listen for a few minutes. I was afraid that you were all crazy with hormones because you haven’t cum for over a month, and that you were asking me to move in with you because of that, and that as soon as we took our break, you’d come to your senses and realize you’d made a mistake. So, I wanted to think about it. That’s why I asked you for some time.”



He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t know.”



“No,” she agreed, “you didn’t.” She rubbed his thigh with her foot and tried to give him a smile. “And you didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain.”



He nodded. “I guess . . . I got . . . I don’t know, hurt, I guess, when you didn’t seem excited by it. I’d been thinking about it for a week, and I thought you’d like it.”



“Do you think I couldn’t see that? If you’d only given me a chance to explain, we could’ve talked about this three days ago.”



He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot again. I’m always an idiot.”



She raised her foot to touch her toes to his chin. His head bobbed up again. “No, but you made a mistake, and now you have to be punished.”



He blinked. “What do you mean, ‘punished’?”



“I mean,” she replied, and started to lower her foot only to have it caught by his hands, “for the next three days, you are not to touch me. Not a kiss, not a hug, nothing.”



He blinked and swallowed. “I . . . uh . . . is this part of the game?”



She smiled and blushed. “Sort of, but I think we know our little game is becoming something more.”



“So,” his eyes shifted nervously in his head, “I can’t touch you for three days.”



“Yes, Sweetheart. For the next three days, not only can you not touch yourself, but you can’t touch me. And if you do, even by accident, then we add another day to the sentence.”



He rubbed her foot, pressing his thumbs under her arch where he’d learned she loved it the most. “Starting tomorrow.”



He grinned.



“And it’s not just for three days.”



His grin faltered. “What do you mean?”



“I mean, unless you can tell me what you did wrong and what you should’ve done and apologize at the end of the three days, you earn another day, and another until you figure it out.”



He smiled and gave her big toe a small kiss. “I’m sorry, Ella. I’m an idiot. I wasn’t trying to hurt you–”



“Stop,” she commanded, surprised by her own tone. “Not now. In three days, once you’ve had time to think about it, and I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself an idiot again. Is that clear?”



She felt a little bad. Her tone, her demeanor was so mean. She felt more like a drill Sargent than a girlfriend, but her head began to swim when she noticed the expression on his face. He kissed her toe again with his eyes closed and softly whispered, “Yes, Ma’am.”



* * *



Walking beside her, sleeping beside her, being around her became torturous. The little gestures that were so automatic between lovers were now forbidden and utterly conscious. He separated himself from her while grocery shopping, used the cart as a buffer. He grew concerned when she insisted on driving everywhere; driving his own car made it easier to keep his hands busy. Riding beside her, he tended to keep his arms crossed, almost as if hugging himself for comfort.



He called her after work and suggested going home, instead of coming over.



“No,” she refuted, “I want you with me.”



“No, seriously, Ella. I’m exhausted.”



“Then you can relax here.”



Her friend had warned her of such an attempt. ‘Keep him as close to you as possible. He’ll look for excuses to stay away from you to make his punishment easier. Don’t let him get away with it.’



She found herself having to be insistent, found her tone becoming unintentionally harsh. She never purposefully used such tones, but they seemed to spill out of her more and more. It didn’t help that he responded the way he did, shivering with pleasure, blushing furiously, addressing her as “Ma’am”.



He brushed past her arm once at the department store and exploded with apologies, drawing the stares of the other shoppers. He didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy squirming. It was his last day and being so near her, smelling her perfume, seeing her legs, her bare shoulders, her neck, her small hands was too much. He felt like he was sporting a permanent erection, and that it was always pointed at her like a magic erotic compass.



“It’s okay,” she grinned.



“No, seriously,” he turned pale. “I’m very sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t realize you were right behind me when I turned. I thought–”

“It’s okay,” she repeated, her eyes shifting to notice the furtive gazes of the people around them. “It was just my sleeve. We didn’t really make contact.”



He nodded, looking like he’d just been saved from a fate worse than death.



She sent him off to look at pants and went back to browsing shoes. Two minutes after he left a woman approached her and asked her why he’d gotten so upset. Ella broke out in an embarrassed smile. “Oh, it’s this little exercise we’re doing to help with our relationship.”



“Oh?” the woman asked. “What’s the exercise?”



Ella’s smile broadened. “We’re not supposed to touch each other for three days. He’s having a little bit of a hard time with it.”



The woman closed in, whispering. “And he went for that?”



“Well,” Ella started to reply “yes, of course,” but she thought about it. Why had he gone for it? “I can touch him, but he can’t touch me. It’s supposed to make him more appreciative of our togetherness.”



It was a fib, but she wasn’t sure how else to describe it. There were words in the dim shadows of her mind, but the terms seemed unnatural. They seemed hard and unshapely to her tongue.



“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” the woman whispered, sidling up close enough for their arms to touch. “But why did he get so upset?”



Ella blinked, tried to rein in her blush, her involuntary smile. “If he does, he gets another day added to–” She almost said, “–his sentence,” but then she would have to explain that as well. “–another day added to the time.”



The woman grinned eagerly and let her eyes drift off toward the direction she’d last seen her husband. “How delicious. I could never get my husband to go along with that.”



At the checkout line, his new slacks draped over his hands, slacks she’d picked out for him, he remained so far back from her that the other shoppers kept asking him if he was in line.



She turned and frowned, feeling her tone go accidentally stern again. “Jim. What are you doing?”



“I . . uh–” He glanced around him at the other curious shoppers.



She pointed at the floor beside her. “Come here. We’re next.”



He felt himself jerk forward, feeling small and ashamed. His erection was showing and he had to discreetly shift it to a more comfortable position. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. He resisted calling her Ma’am, but the word had been perched on his lips.



They checked out, made it to the parking lot, and he asked her if she was going to add another day to his sentence. He unlocked her car door and dropped her keys into her waiting palm, careful not to let their hands touch. She didn’t like carrying them around because it was frustrating to search for them in her purse all the time.



“I don’t know. Should I?” she wondered.



“It really was an accident.”



“I know, Sweetheart. No foul, I suppose.”



They got in the car and he laid the shopping bag across his lap and tucked his hands underneath. “I . . . I wanted to tell you I thought about the other day, about me getting so upset about when I asked you to move in with me.”



“Not now, Jim.”



“Yes, Ma’am.” Now the word slid effortlessly out of his lips. “I just wanted to explain something.”



She almost let her curiosity get the better of her. She almost asked what he was talking about, but instead, she buttoned her lip and let the silence answer for her.



When she said, “Not now”, she meant it.



She recalled her conversation with her mentor: ‘It’s all about consistency. It’s not just about him learning self control; it’s also about you learning self control. You will have to learn a LOT of self control. The better you learn it and apply it, the better the results, the better his behavior.’



She shook her head, and typed her reaction. ‘I feel like you’re telling me how to train my dog.’



She got a smirking smiley face for that. ‘You don’t have kids, do you?’



‘No.’



‘I hate to break it to you, but training children and husbands is very similar to training dogs, except dogs learn faster.’



She laughed at that. ‘I don’t know though. This is Jim.’



‘So the first step is what?’



Ella answered, feeling as if she were being asked to pass a pop quiz. ‘Tell him what he did wrong and how it made me feel.’



‘Yes, and the second step to a good punishment is. . . .”



‘Tell him what he should’ve done instead.’



‘Good!’ her friend messaged. ‘Men like to win. They are very goal oriented. If you show him how to do better next time, he’ll most likely learn very well. Okay, third step.’



‘Apply the punishment and make sure I stick to my guns.’



‘Exactly!’ Her friend gave her another smiley face. ‘He’ll look for a loophole. Even if he finds one, you make sure he understands that it would violate the spirit of the punishment. He’ll ask for the punishment to end early or possibly hint at it because’s he been good, time off for good behavior. It absolutely, positively must run its course. After a couple of times, he’ll have learned his lesson and he won’t bother you with such requests anymore. This is why it’s so crucial to be so exacting in these early stages. A lot of good prep work in the beginning makes things so much easier later.’



‘Well,’ she typed, ‘at least I’m not having to do some weird thing like spank him or something.’



Her friend sent her a ‘LOL’, then added, ‘Actually, some day you might. You’d be surprised at where you might end up, but for now, since he’s all ramped up from two months of no orgasms, he might actually consider that something exciting. A true punishment should never involve him getting aroused. The one thing he wants most of all right now is you, your attention, your touch, the feel of your fingers on him, your approval, so that’s the one thing he’s deprived himself of. And did you see what I did there? It’s not you punishing him; it’s him punishing himself when he doesn’t behave in a way that pleases you.’



Ella shook her head. The more she learned, the more right her friend proved herself, the more her plan worked on Jim, the more she realized she didn’t know anything about the one man in her life she’d come to love more than any other.



When his sentence had been served, he presented himself to her like an eager puppy. “So, is my punishment over yet?”



She noted the excitement in his voice, the blushing smile on his face. “Almost.”



“I’m truly sorry, Ella–”



“Not yet,” she said, cutting him off. His mouth snapped shut. He waited patiently.



She walked to the couch and crooked her finger at him. He hurried over with a spring in his step. At the last minute, almost without thinking she pointed at the floor.



She went lightheaded when he dropped to his knees before her, head bowed, looking every bit like a worshiping subject. “Okay.” Her voice wavered. There was an energy inside her rolling at full boil. She was almost trembling with it. It was like an electric current running between them, connecting them, invisible but incredibly powerful. She felt there were certain things she could say that would send the current into overdrive. She felt almost instinctively that a certain inflection of her voice would push certain buttons, his button, her button, their collective sexual overdrive button. She wanted to press those buttons. It was beginning to excite her in a way that nothing else in life had. “Begin.”



“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered softly. “I wanted to apologize for hurting you, but I also wanted to explain.”



“I did give you the chance before,” she interrupted. She expected an argument. His head bobbed up slightly, then lowered again.



“Yes, Ma’am. You did.”



He knelt silently for a moment.



She crossed her legs at the knee and watched as his eyes were drawn helplessly to her foot. She could feel his desire. He was practically salivating at the sight of her black heel, bouncing before him. The last three days of not being able to touch her in any way had thrown his desire into a peak that had threatened to overwhelm him. It had arose to a level that was indescribable. He had never wanted her or anything in his life the way he wanted her right now, but it wasn’t even a physical desire. He wanted . . . no . . . he needed her approval, her pleasure. He craved that soft tone of acceptance from her, and the more harsh she was with him, the less he got it, the more powerful and sought after it became.



“Go on,” she ordered, and her order was like magic, electrifying them both with desire. She felt so powerful; she felt she could tell him to do almost anything and he would. This man who stood a foot taller than her, who could’ve pinned her down effortlessly and had his way with her, was hanging on her every word, obedient to her every whim. He was giving her everything she wanted, not out of obligation, but because he wanted nothing more than for her to be pleased. It was almost ridiculously erotic.



“I got hurt. When you didn’t say right away that you wanted to live with me, I thought I’d fucked up. I thought you didn’t love me.”



“But I do love you,” she whispered.



His eyes flashed up and caught hers. She couldn’t be certain, but if she hadn’t known better, she might have thought those were tears in his eyes. “I love you, too, Ella. I freaked out, and I’m sorry.”



She tapped her chin, bounced the pointy toe of her shoe before him, enjoying the way his eyes bounced with it. “Hmm, okay, but what could you have done instead?”



He swallowed, shook his head. “Not been an idiot.”



She opened her mouth, but didn’t get a word out before he caught himself.



“I know, I know! I’m not an idiot. I should’ve just told you how it made me feel. I should’ve just said that I was, y’know, hurt, and I thought you’d be happy and we should’ve talked about it and everything probably would’ve been okay if I had.”



“Probably?” she asked and felt him cave before her.



“It all would’ve been okay. And I’ll remember that next time. I won’t let it happen again.”



She sat silently, studying him. Peculiar new feelings were coursing through her, accompanied by peculiar new thoughts. She would have to talk to her friend about it, but for now, she had business with her little Jim. “Good boy, but you’re not done yet. Are you?”



He lifted his head and met her gaze and the sparks flew between them. “I’m very, very sorry, Ella. I truly am, from the bottom of my heart.”



She smiled and watched the blood rush into his cheeks. “I forgive you, Baby.”



His eyes dropped, fell to her foot, bouncing before him, and he licked his lips, raising his hands to get a hold on it. She pulled it away at the last second, enjoying how his eyes flitted back up with confusion.



“Uh uh uh,” she admonished playfully. “You still haven’t thanked me for teaching you this valuable lesson.”



She wondered why she was drawing this out. If anything, she probably owed him an apology for not explaining how she felt at the time, though she’d been advised to the contrary. No, the reason she was letting this moment of contrition stretch on was very simple: it was delicious and it was making her bones quiver with intense pleasure, the pleasure of a woman ever slowly, ever so seductively, wrapping a man around her finger.



His sincerity was profound. “Ella, thank you for helping me to be a better guy. You deserve so much better than me, and I truly want you to be happy and I’m truly sorry I made you unhappy. Thank you for showing me how to do that in the future.”



She smiled and blushed. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”



She was about to push her heel toward him, when he spoke again. “There was something else though.”



She paused, thinking to herself, ‘Oh, Jim, Darling, please don’t blow it now. I need you inside me like you wouldn’t believe!’



“Go on.”



He licked his lips, considered his words carefully. “The last week or so, maybe the last two weeks, something happened.”



She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, enjoying the scent of his cologne, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she got a little whiff of his sweat mixed with it. It made her hungry for him. “What?”



His eyes met hers. She nearly recoiled from them. There was something in them she hadn’t seen before. She was afraid to even consider what it might mean. “Peace. This profound . . . peace came over me. It was . . . I was just completely and totally content. I’m not sure exactly when, but maybe when we were talking on the phone that Sunday. I remember calling you hoping for phone sex, then about half way into the conversation I realized I probably wasn’t going to get it. Then, I realized I didn’t care.”



He laughed aloud at some private joke. “You were chattering away about your friend, Cindy, and I . . . I felt this amazing feeling of total happiness. It really was like being drunk, almost, or stoned. I figured it would go away, but it didn’t. For the last two weeks, as horny as I’ve been, as badly as I’ve wanted you, this other thing overshadowed everything else. I just . . . I just wanted you to be happy. I wanted to please you, not with my dick, but just. . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure I can describe it. I was on that high when I asked you to move in with me. I guess I sort of crashed, but it was still there. I mean, I was hurt and upset, but I still found myself thinking about you all day. I still raced here after work to take out the trash and get dinner ready for you. All I want to do is to do things for you and. . . .”



His head bowed; he hugged himself; he shuddered slightly, his face beet red, and what he whispered, she realized at once, was a game changer.



“Ella,” he admitted quietly, “all I can think about is doing everything you tell me to do. I want–” He paused to swallow and catch his breath. “I want to obey you.”



She blinked and stared at him for a long time, wondering to herself, ‘What does this mean?’, but it was a question to which she already had the answer.



* * *



With absolute certainty, she messaged her friend. ‘He’s ready.’



Her friend messaged back. ‘Yes? Why do you say that?’



Ella explained about Jim’s apology and all that he’d said.



Her friend sent her a smiley face. ‘He certainly is ready, but are you?’



‘I have one question,’ Ella typed. ‘Where does this end?’



There was a long pause. ‘I’ll be honest. I don’t know. You’ll know. For me it came to a gradual plateau. It never stopped, but we came to a point where we were both happy with the arrangement. But that was me. Each relationship is different. I think it will do the same for you though. But beware, men are very focused creatures. You may have to be the one to apply the brakes. Don’t let him badger you into giving him anything more than you’re comfortable with.’



Ella thought about it. Would Jim really want to go further than her? And what was the definition of “further”? She had glimpses of where this could all end up, kinky, whipping him in some leather Dominatrix outfit, but she was extremely uncomfortable with those images.



‘What’s the next step?’ she asked in a hurry, because she didn’t want to think about it anymore.



She got a smiley face and an explanation.



* * *



Their Sunday discussions became less . . . equal.



Jim used to sit with her on the couch and rub her feet while they talked about what was working and what wasn’t, but now without her even suggesting it, he presented himself on his knees before her. She had an urge to motion him up beside her, but a hot flush coursed through her. He was on his knees. He was obedient and under her control and on his knees before her. She couldn’t believe how much that excited her.



Her throat clinched up. She felt nervous, tense, so incredibly turned on she almost couldn’t stand it. “I’d . . . like some wine. Would–”



He was on his feet, hurrying to the kitchen. She heard him banging around, heard the pop of the cork, heard the clink of a glass and in a flash he was back before her, handing her a glass of wine. She looked at it, then up at him. “Didn’t you want any?”



He blushed and laughed. “I, uh, y’know, it didn’t even occur to me.”



He stood, waiting. She sipped and watched him curiously, wondering what he was waiting for. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. Did you want me to ask permission?”



She blinked and giggled. “No. That’s okay. Let’s just talk. You can have a glass later if you’d like.”



He smiled and nodded and dropped to his knees. “Or if you want me to have one.”



She crossed her legs at the knee and pushed her foot toward him. He kissed it and began to rub it tenderly. The way he looked down at it . . . it was almost as if he wanted to make love to her foot, such reverence, such lust. “So, did you have anything you wanted to bring up?”



He swallowed and shook his head. “I’d like a day or two at home next week. I haven’t taken good care of my house. I’ve been having to stop there and bring clothes over here and do laundry over here. Not that I mind, but it would be nice to have one or two days where I could get things done at home.”



She pretended to think about, to consider it. “I’ll give you one day next week. Wednesday. And that might change, depending on how I feel.”



He blinked, smiled, blushed and whispered softly, “Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”



She felt the tension in her body driving her crazy with arousal. “Anything else?”



He shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”



He began to focus on her toes, the red polish, his fingers rolling around the joints, his eyes darting up to see if he was having an effect. He wanted to kiss her toes, but resisted. He wanted so much more than just her foot.



“Well,” Ella told him, “I have a question.”



His eyes met hers. “Okay.”



“Have you been good? Have you been touching yourself?” She was curious to see if her friend was right, that men truly did have their own way of defining things of this nature.



He shook his head, blanched a little. “No, of course not. That would ruin everything. Jesus, I’ve wanted to, but I’ve been good.”



She considered his response, crossed her arms, tapped her chin with her finger. “Hmm, what about in the shower?”



His face tightened slightly. “Well . . . just to clean myself though.”



“I see. So you do touch yourself in the shower, to clean yourself?”



He blinked. “Well, yes, Ella, I have to clean it.”



“And,” she continued, still wondering if her friend was going to be right yet again, “and do you ever take a little more time than necessary . . . to ‘clean’ yourself?”



His jaw dropped slightly. “Well . . . I don’t know. I mean, I’m just soaping it up and–”



“Giving it a stroke or two?”



His face turned beet red. “I don’t . . . I never mean to stroke it exactly–”



“Or ten?” she continued, noticing that harsh tone sneak back into her voice.



“I’m just cleaning it though. I’m not jerking off.” She couldn’t tell if he was ashamed or angry.



“It’s okay, Sweetheart, and I’m sure there are other times where maybe you hand lingers a little too long. Maybe you feel the lump in your pants and give it a little squeeze?”



He knelt with his head bowed, utterly silent.



“I see.”



Softly, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Ella. I didn’t think of it like that. I really have tried. You have no idea how hard it is.”



She giggled at that, noticing his tenting pants. “I have some idea.”



He glanced up and laughed. “Yeah. Really!”



She leaned forward and caressed his cheek. “It just means we might have to resort to other means the next time we play.



He blinked. His eyes went wide. “The next time?”



She smiled. “Well, yes, Sweetheart. Your sixty days is up on Saturday. I promised you a break.”



“But–but I don’t want a break. I want to continue. I mean, I want very much to cum on Saturday . . . with you . . . in you. Jesus, all over you. I can’t stand it anymore. But–but–let’s continue after that.”



She put on her best patronizing smile. “Oh, Sweetheart, remember? It’s not about what you want. It’s about what pleases me.”



He smiled the broadest smile he could manage. “Yes, and I was hoping that you’d want more of it, too.”

His orgasm was like Christmas, long for the waiting and gone too quick. If it had been left to him, it would’ve been one long day of having her spread out as a buffet while he cuddled, nuzzled, fucked, teased and touched every part of her, rolling her over every hour to access a fresh tapestry of soft skin. But it hadn’t been left to him. His “release day” was arranged by her. Not executed by her, but it was her plan he followed.



They would see a show, she explained, a play, a comedy show, but not a movie. Movies were too easy. It would be some type of event where they needed tickets at a proper theater and they got to dress up. There would be dinner, drinks and dancing. He chose where for the dinner and drinks, and he paid. She chose how long they danced.



She took it easy on him and didn’t torture him too much.



That was followed by their stroll down the river walk, where he told her how special the place had become to him. Special? Jim had long since started behaving as a romantic, but this was a little different. The river walk, the spot around the bend where lamplight flickered, which had since been fixed much to his dismay, was where he had first felt an intense passion for her. It was the place where he realized that her “hands off” policy was driving him to want her like never before. He even called it the spot where he fell in love with being in love with her.



She glowed the entire time. She couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t stop hanging on to his arm. She gave him every kissed he reached for and offered more. At the end of the evening, she offered her body to him, and he devoured her, the first time quickly, barely making it more than a minute, but after a short recovery, he took her again and again until he couldn’t take her anymore, until she was so droopy-eyed that he felt guilty asking for another go.



He spent the rest of the week free of rules. He didn’t have to stay with her at her apartment. He could touch himself as much as he liked. He indulged. Some. He indulged on Monday night. It was hollow. The pornography was still there, still titillating, and he had no problem making it work, but it wasn’t her. She had somehow become so much more intense than anything he could dream up. She was what he wanted in his mind and in his heart.



He’d never before considered what his heart wanted when his hard-on made requests.



At the end of the week, he smiled at her, meeting her at the front door, dinner warm in the oven and renewed his offer of having her move in with him.



She blushed and replied, “Let me think about it.”



His grin was an ear to ear presentation. “You do that. I’m clear headed. I jerked off twice this week.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her willingly into his embrace, burying his nose in her hair and kissing the top of her soft head, feeling her melt against him. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”



“Maybe you’re not clear enough though. It’s only been a few days.”



He peeled her off of himself and gazed deep into her eyes. “You can keep making excuses, but I know how I feel and you won’t convince me I feel any other way.”



She frowned, shook her head. “Maybe you just want it because you’re still thinking about the game.”



“I want it because I love you.”



She shook her head again. “But if this is all about our little game–”



“I think we both know it’s more than a game, Ella.”



“But this way you could play more, every day. This more than a game thing we’re doing, I’m not sure where it’s heading.”



“I do.”



Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing with concern. “You do?”



He nodded. “Yes. I’ve been looking it up online. There’s all kinds of names for it, but the short answer is you take charge of the relationship, of me, and I behave like a good boy and give you everything you want and generally make you feel happy and loved and special, which you are. You are very special.”



“But–” she tried.



“I want you to be happy, and you figured out a way for me to make that happen. I don’t know how you figured it out, if it was that Divine Tantra site or what, but you being in control of me is exciting and intense and I love feeling like I’m some, uh, worshiping slave pampering his goddess.”



Her blush deepened.



“Ella, you’ve wanted this. You’ve been working on it, and so have I. This is working. We’re happy. The only time I’m usually happy in my relationships is in the first six months, then everything gets boring. I get boring, and selfish and lazy. I mean, for a guy, once you’ve got the girl, what’s left? Your job is done. But with this I feel like every day is a new adventure. I mean, taking care of you even got a little routine, but I was truly happy doing things for you. In fact, it even excited me, turned me on. The other day I almost passed out because you dropped your wet towel on the floor in the bathroom and didn’t say a word about it. You just expected that I would pick it up. It was like a mental orgasm. I was under your thumb, wrapped around your little pinky finger, doing what you wanted without you so much as asking or even having to order me. I was in heaven. I want more of that, but, um, I forget, this isn’t about what I want. So, I’m asking: What do you want?”



It was a lovely speech.



He was earnest. She couldn’t deny that. She was having doubts. Why? He was right. Things had been amazingly good between them, but going forward meant continuing to notice that she was changing and she wasn’t sure she liked the changes. Going forward meant letting all the qualities that were usually reviled in women come to full blossom. Bossy. Bitchy. Mean. Using her feminine wiles, her sexuality to manipulate him to her own end.



Did she truly want to be that type of person?



When he hadn’t an orgasm for a couple of weeks, he couldn’t resist her or even tell her she was being too bossy, too mean. The harsher she was, the more he loved it. It would be up to her to keep a lid on that.



Would he become less than a man to her? He hadn’t so far, but he had become somewhat childlike, always looking for her approval, always looking to please her. By the end, she wasn’t doing much, she admitted. A smile here, a friendly little pat there. Her role consisted of her sitting on the couch and bouncing her heel in front of his face, watching him kneel, and giving him instructions in a soft tone that made him shiver with excitement.



On the other hand, she’d never been so turned on in her life. She’d gone from feeling that her libido was too low to thinking about sex every ten seconds. She was practically a man.



Every ten seconds, Jim on his knees. Every ten seconds, smiling because he was texting her. Every ten seconds, Jim gazing up at her begging to serve her.



“Jim, I’ll think about moving in with you, but for now, we’ll continue the way we are.”



“The way we are right now?” His face displayed concern.



She patted his face. “It’s your choice, but if you choose to go back to our ‘game’, I’ll be honest with you . . . there will be no end date.”



He blushed. He went pale. He licked his lips.



She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she felt his erection pressing into her.



“And,” she continued, “there is the little matter of your frequent touching.”



He nodded, head bowed. “Okay.”



“I’ll give you until Monday to decide, but if you decide yes, then we’ll need to get measurements.”



He swallowed. “Measurements?”



She nodded. “Can you guess what for?”



He nodded, his face tight, his lips white. “Yes.”



She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”



“Is it . . . a chastity device?”



She smiled. He had been doing research. She patted his face and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re such a good boy.”



* * *



Her anger came to a full boil. She was hurt. She resented him like Hell. She could only sit and silently fume. His eyes flashed with concern, and confusion. She sent him away, no touching, no talking. She had to think. Maybe she needed to contact her friend.



Jim had knelt before her, all smiles and swollen with pride, and informed her that he’d ordered the chastity device.



Almost at once, she had felt a flush of anger rush into her face. “You . . . what?”



“I ordered it! I spent the last week researching it online. You know . . . checking out reviews, what people said on the forums. Hell, I made a spreadsheet! I had to take some measurements, you know, each day to get an average so I knew what size and all that.”



She blinked. “You . . . ordered it?”



He nodded with the broadest smile he could manage. “Yeah! And I put an expedite on it, so it should be here in a few days.”



He could not have been more shocked when she sent him away, wordless, practically breathless.



For the rest of the day, she sat on her anger, let it steam inside her. She was short with him. She didn’t ask, didn’t order; she commanded.



“Make me some tea.”



“Yes, Ma’am.”



Ordinarily, this would’ve excited him, but the anger in her eyes worried him.



He tried apologizing for whatever he’d done. She asked him if he knew what he was apologizing for. He didn’t. “Go away.”



He looked around. “Um . . . where?”



“I don’t care. Make yourself busy. I shouldn’t have to tell you every little thing.”



He gulped and found something to do. He busied himself in the yard, pulling weeds, trimming branches, doing something physical and staying out of the house, out of her way, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong.



In bed that night, he’d put his hand on her arm. Her body was cold and tense. She rolled away.



He’d had enough.



He got out of bed, walked around the end and knelt in front of her.



She was tempted to roll away from him, but instead, she watched him coolly and waited.



“Ella,” he said softly, “I don’t know what I did wrong. I know you’re angry. I’d like to apologize, but I’d . . . I’d appreciate help figuring out what I did to piss you off.”



She felt her cold exterior cracking almost immediately. Still, she resisted the urge to warm up to him again. “You can’t even guess?”



He nodded and studied his fingers as they fiddled with each other. “I would guess that you don’t like the fact that I ordered the chastity belt. Maybe, you didn’t really want me to order one? It freaks you out? Maybe it was just something you were saying, but it was more of a fantasy for you and you didn’t mean–”



“No, Jim,” she interrupted. “It wasn’t a fantasy. You ordered it without even consulting me.”



He blinked. His throat bobbed. “Oh.”



She stared at him, her tongue still, her lips still, her body still, her eyes boring into his.



His eyes darted down to her cleavage just peeking out from beneath the sheets, from beneath her camisole. “I . . . I thought you’d be happy. Honestly. I thought you told me to order it.”



She propped herself up on her elbow. “When did I tell you to order it, Jim?”



He blinked rapidly. “Well, you didn’t tell me exactly–”



“Oh?”



“No, but . . . you hardly every just come out and tell me to do anything. You always sort of hint at it. You mention something offhand, and I’ve been trying to be better at figuring out what you’re trying to say. So, you know, if you hint at something or give me a little nudge, I’m trying to do better figuring out what it is you want.”



She blanched. He had a point, and she knew it. In the past, they had arguments that were just the opposite of this. She would mention something, and he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t get it, wouldn’t even get so much as a hint about it, and she would be so hurt, so frustrated. He would explain that she hadn’t “told” him what she wanted and he couldn’t read her mind.



Here, he was struggling to do just that, to understand what she truly wanted, and she’d gotten mad at him for it.



Still, she could hear her friend whispering in her mind. ‘It’s okay to admit you’ve made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean he still shouldn’t be punished. It sounds cold and wrong, but he’ll thank you for it.’



She shook her head and decided to put that theory to the test, even though she couldn’t believe he would go for it.



“I see. That’s understandable. I appreciate the effort, but now let me explain how you made me feel. You made me feel like this is all really just a game to you–”



He opened his mouth to object, but she flipped up a finger and said, “Hush. I’m talking.”



He shrank, turned pale, and she noted his erection came to full mast. She was beginning to see the advantage of having him naked; he couldn’t hide his arousal.



He’d already confessed that he loved it when she “hushed” him so sternly.



“You made me feel like it was just a game that you could quit anytime, where when you decided to make your own decisions or bend the rules, you could. It really hurt me that you made this decision without me. I resented you for taking that away from me.”



“Ella,” he whispered shyly, “it had been a week and you hadn’t said anything more about it.”



She stared at him in silence. He squirmed, swallowed, breathed shallow breaths and whispered, “Sorry.”



“Go to the corner.”



It surprised even her. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, the decision to put him in the corner like a disobedient child, but it felt right.



His head snapped up, his eyes checking hers to see if she was serious, then after only a moment, he walked over to the counter and slouched miserably.



“Knees, please,” she whispered, and got a thrill watching him obey instantaneously. “Hands behind you. I don’t want to see any touching.”



He knelt in the corner while she stared at the ceiling and thought.



He knelt. He knelt and he thought and became acutely aware of his erection, of his knees pressing into the carpet, of her presence in the bed behind him. He listened to each quiet shift of her body, the whisking of the sheets, the compression of the mattress.



After an eternity that was probably only a few minutes, she called to him. “Jim?”



“Yes, Ma’am?”



“Are you ready to listen now?”



“Yes, Ma’am.”



“Good boy. Come here, please.”



He stood and walked back over to her and dropped to his knees, so close his chest was touching the edge of the bed.



She smiled at him. “As I was saying, you hurt my feelings and you deprived yourself out of a special moment between us. I appreciate that you were trying to obey me, but I think the truth is that the idea of being put in a chastity belt turned you on so much, you got too eager and decided to just go do it, not because it was what I wanted, but because it was what you wanted, and you were impatient.”



He bowed his head and nodded. “Shit. You’re probably right. I’m sorry, Ella.”



She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked his mouth with her thumb. “Thank you, but you can apologize after your punishment.”



“May I speak for a moment?”



That struck her. He’d never asked for permission to talk before. It made her feel very powerful. It also made her realize how very submissive he was feeling. She swallowed and tried to keep her tone firm. “Go on.”



“I have a solution to this. I did the research already, so what I could do is to present it to you. I could show you all the pros and cons of the different belts I looked at, show you the measurements and the graphs.”



She giggled. “You made graphs?”



He was such a guy, such a logical, methodical guy.



He nodded, grinning. “I couldn’t help myself. Anyway, I could show you the top three and let you pick. When the belt gets here, if it’s not the one you picked, I can send it back and get the right one.”



She thought about it, smiling. “I’d like that.”



His smiled broadened. He turned and kissed her fingers softly. “I’m sorry, Ella. I really am. I let my eagerness get the better of me.”



“That’s sweet, but I already told you, you can apologize after your punishment.”



He blinked. “What is–please tell me it’s not another three days of not touching you.”



She smiled. It was hard to resist the feelings of being desired and needed. With one comment, he’d made her feel so sexy and aroused. Still, it wasn’t just about his self-control, it was also about hers.



“No, Baby. I don’t think what you did was quite that bad and you explained it well and there was some truth in what you said. I’m learning to be a little more direct with you, and I love that you’re working so hard to understand what I want. I think some corner time will be enough.”



He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips into the center of her palm. “Okay.”



She watched him shuffle back to the corner, smiling, her hand drifting helplessly between her legs, feeling her own arousal. Her soft, dry lips went wet within a second of her fingers touching them. They were already puffy and swollen, her clitoris peeking out and ready for play.



She moaned quietly and threw an order his way every now and then. “No talking. Think about me. Think about what you did.”



“Yes, Ma’am.”



He could hear her breathlessness, her ragged tone, her moans, the shifting of sheets. He’d never wanted to touch her and himself more than at that moment.



“When that little belt gets here, you’re in for it. I’m going to lock you away.”



He could imagine the click of the lock. He trembled, his cock actually leaking pre-cum it was so hard.



“I’m going to capture it, and from then on it’s mine. No more touching. No more nothing. It’s mine. I control it and it controls you and mmmmm–”



She rolled around the bed until she felt a small twinge of an orgasm and smiled. She worked on another one, a better one, even considered having his fingers or his mouth do the job, but she decided against it. Let him kneel and stew and want her. She wanted him to want her, to crave her.



She swirled her finger around her clit and felt that indefinable tension building. It was promising to be a good one, already making her toes curl. She slunk down in the bed and let her hand do what it wanted. She grabbed at her camisole, pushing the straps aside so she could grab onto her breast. She’d never liked rough breast play. They were far too sensitive for that, but now she twisted her own nipples, feeling a little touch of pain shoot through her, then she was flooding wet and almost wondering if she hadn’t cum and not realized it. The tension was still there, making her thighs tremble. No, she had definitely not cum yet.



She gazed over at Jim in the dim light. He could hear her. He was listening to her every moan, every breath, short, ragged and quick. She felt her hand jerking in and out of herself, letting her wrist lean on her clit, giving it a good hard rub, and then the ecstasy was there, so close, cresting.



She bit her lip and willed it to come, slipper her fingers up to make direct contact with her clit, and pushing the button to set off the fireworks in her body. Her moan and gasp filled the room from one corner to the other. Jim was as still as a statute.



She smiled and let the orgasm crash over her, lessening with each wave, but still so supremely pleasurable.



Then she was laying there in the quiet, listening to her own breathing, smiling softly.



A moment later, an timeless eternity later, she awoke with a start. It was pitch black in the room and she realized she’d fallen asleep. “J-Jim?”



He groaned. “Yes, Ma’am.”



“Oh, God! Did I fall asleep?”



“Yes, Ma’am.”



“How–how long have you been kneeling there?” She could still make out his form in the corner.



“I’m–I’m not sure. Maybe an hour?”



“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, come here.”



She rolled out of the bed and rushed to him. He groaned as he stood, his knees throbbing, the skin over his kneecap burning. He limped with her under his arm to the bed.



With tears in her voice, she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up?”



“I–I thought about it, but you told me not to talk.”



“Oh, Jim! Please forgive me!”



He groaned and collapsed on to the bed, smiling. “No, it’s okay. I don’t have bad knees or anything, besides I liked doing it for you. It was sort of like I was suffering for you, sticking it out as long as I could.”

She cradled his face in her hands and kissed it softly from eye to eye to lips to nose to chin to ear and each cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. Next time wake me up!”



“Please,” Jim begged, “please don’t apologize. It ruins it. I feel like I did something amazing for you. I feel like I was punished and that I did it. I did a good job and if you say you’re sorry, it makes me feel like I did something wrong.”



She withdrew, physically retreated a step and stared at him, studying his face. It flooded through her, the thought, the feeling, the overwhelming realization. He’s mine. He belongs to me. He wants to belong to me. He’s . . . he’s my slave now. I’ve turned him into my slave.



She swallowed and tried not to let it dissolve her into a giant puddle of arousal, begging for him to ram his cock through every part of her.



Self-control.



She sighed and smiled and hugged him. He kissed her belly softly and moaned with pleasure, his hands finding her ass and gripping until they almost hurt.



He loves my ass. I bet I could control him with it, just the sight of it.



She blushed and pushed him away.



“Okay, are you feeling better?”



He nodded heavily.



“Good, because we’re not quite finished here, are we?”



He gulped, his eyes flitting up to meet hers.



“You owe me an apology and a thank-you.”



He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.



It nearly killed her to watch him lower himself to his still throbbing knees, but she bit her tongue, feeling herself aroused beyond belief. He was suffering for her, because she said so.



It gave her ideas.



* * *



She sat stunned, feeling abandoned.



‘What do you mean?’



Her friend, her mentor, her relationship savior-texted her back. ‘I just don’t have the experience to help you any further.’



‘What kind of experience do you need?’ Her friend, her savior had made the first contact. She had reached out to Ella, after noticing her comment on the Divine Tantra forum.



‘You were asking about when does it stop? What’s next? I told you everyone has their own stopping point. Well, my husband and I stopped about where you are now. I mean, we didn’t stop, but it was like our plateau. We’re happy with where things are, but the way you’re describing things makes me think you want to take your relationship further. I just don’t have that kind of experience, but I know someone who does, and I think she can help you.’



She crossed her arms and fumed. She was about ready to quit the whole site and conversation and everything. Except that she still felt she needed advice and didn’t know where to get it. She’d done a little research and all the sites seemed to involve dressing up leather or latex and harassing her husband in degrading ways while beating the shit out of him. She could not fathom going down that road. ‘I don’t understand why you’re just running away from me like this. You’re the one that talked me into it all.’



There was a frowny face and a reply. ‘I promise you I’m not running away. I’m not leaving you. We’re friends. We’ll always be friends. You’ve made me feel so wonderful because I’ve been able to help and it’s gone so well. I’m so happy for you. I’ll still be here, I just want to pass your name to someone who is even more experienced than me. In fact, she’s the one who contacted me and saved my relationship. Please . . give her a chance. I promise. She will amaze you.’



Ella was uncertain, and more than a little hurt, but what could she do?



It only took a day before she got a text from her new mentor.



She wanted to not like her, but she was likeable. She wanted to disbelieve her, but she was so knowledgeable. They chatted like old friends for almost an hour, about the Divine Tantra site, about relationships, about men, about shower curtains, about children, about women, about their mutual friend. . . .



Begrudgingly, Ella had to admit she liked her new friend. She had a different voice, a different style, but it was obvious she knew what she was talking about, and she said things that made Ella’s head spin.



Ella brought up her fears and concerns of what had happened when she accidentally left Jim kneeling while she fell asleep.



Her new friend was unsympathetic. ‘He could not be happier with himself.’



Head spinning, Ella replied, ‘But . . I hurt him.’



‘Not in any serious way. You said there has been no lasting damage. It’s taught you two valuable lessons. One, you need to be cautious about your treatment of him. Whenever he’s in subspace like that, he may find it difficult to tell you he’s being hurt.’



Ella thought about the term, subspace. She knew what it meant even without having to ask, but it was still a clunky, foreign word in her brain.



‘Two,’ her new mentor continued, ‘Jim has told you he likes pain. He wants to suffer for you.’



‘I don’t know that he is actually telling me wants pain. It was an accident. I screwed up.’



‘You certainly did, but that is exactly what he is telling you. I would recommend setting up a regiment of weekly pain trials for him. It will let him suffer for you, bring him deeper into submission for you, and generally make him more pliable to your wishes.’



Ella’s cheeks burned, her face felt hot and tight. ‘Pain trials?’ She wanted to ask what in the Hell her friend was talking about, but there was a division in her heart, an absolute contradiction of feelings. She was both repulsed and aroused by the idea of purposefully causing Jim to hurt.



‘It can be anything. There are stress positions you can make him adopt. Those are easy and they require little effort on your behalf. You ask him to assume a position, let him feel how hard it is, how much it hurts, then you gently, sweetly ask him how long he thinks he can maintain it for you. Set a timer. Whatever he says, hold him to it, then when the time is done, tell him it would please you if he continued longer, but that he can stop now if he wants to. You’ll be amazed. It always sends me into supreme Topspace when my little slave-hubby works so hard to please me far beyond the time he originally promised. Plus, it has toned up his body so nicely. Yum.’



Ella felt almost sick with desire. As exciting, as much as it made part of her tingle, it seemed so cruel, so wrong to subject Jim to such a thing. ‘I see.’



‘Or,’ her friend continued, while Ella silently pleaded with her both to stop and continue, feeling overloaded, ‘you can just reduce him to a little puddle of submission by giving him weekly spankings, good hard spankings, not light fun things, spankings that remind him of you for the next few days, every time he puts his pink bottom down on a chair. You’ll be amazed at how well behaved he becomes. lol’



She truly did not know what to think about it all.



She truly did not know what to think of her new mentor.



She truly did not know what to think about her sopping panties as she thought, ‘I could never do that,’ which was followed by the though, ‘But I want to.’



* * *



Jim had stopped sitting on the couch. Ella wondered if she had somehow ordered that. Was that what she wanted? Had he interpreted her intent that way? In some ways, Jim was getting so good at reading her, he was actually responding to things she didn’t know she even wanted.



After a long thoughtful period, mostly while watching him fixing her purse with a rivet kit, on his knees in the living room, she realized how excited she was. He felt his place was beneath her, not beside her.



He knelt before the couch or he sat on the floor. Sometimes she would pat his head or stroke the hair on the back of his neck like a house pet. She would drape her legs over his shoulders and blush with fire in her cheeks when he sweetly turned his head and kissed the inside of her knee, pressing his nose into her skin and inhaling.



His fantasies, his behavior had become alarmingly submissive.



At her new mentor’s request, she began to draw his fantasies from him. She’d always been interested, had always asked, but now she pressed, now she forced them from him, coerced them from him under extreme duress. After stroking him, bringing him to the edge of orgasm time after time after time, she had gazed him square in the eyes and compelled him to start talking. In his extreme agony and ecstasy, all of his little dreams, hopes, fears and desires had simply come spilling out of his lips.



He dreamed of being her slave. He dreamed of being locked in a collar with her holding the chain. He talked about pictures he’d found on the internet that spoke to him. He dreamed of being tied up and hurt by her, for her pleasure, for her amusement.



Her dreams were not quite so intense, but they were being fed by his fantasies. They were certainly more decadent than they’d ever been.



When he was on his knees, naked, hard, head bowed, cheeks flushed, she could feel the waves of submission flowing off of him, gathering and charging her. When he became still and quiet, he shuddered with every soft word she spoke.



Every time she thought she’d found his bottom, he seemed to go deeper for her. Every time she thought she’d attained the most control she could have over him, he gave her more. It was intoxicating and she was becoming a willing power-holic.



She ran her fingers through her hair and he shuddered. “Why do you call me ‘Ma’am’?”



It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and the strength to speak them. “I . . . don’t know what else to call you, Ma’am.”



“Hmm,” she smiled, sauntering around him, her legs and her heels so close to him that they penetrated his every waking thought, “Ma’am makes me feel like an old woman.”



He knelt in utter silence.



She wondered aloud. “What would you like to call me?”



He shuddered.



She stopped before him, placed a finger under his chin and turned his face upward. The look in his eyes melted her. She wanted him in a way she had never wanted a man before. She wanted to consume him, to swallow him whole, to have him inside her, consuming her. She wanted him to belong to her. Utterly.



He blinked rapidly. “There are . . . sites that I’ve looked at. Forums and other places.”



“Send them to me.”



“Yes, Ma’am.”



“Tell me about them.”



“They’re not harsh like you said you don’t like. There are a few forums with women, married and housewives and other women. I’ve been on there, talking about us. They have asked me if you would join, and I’d like you to, but on there, the men call the women . . . Mistress.”



She took a firm hold of his chin and rubbed the tip of her nose with his for a moment. “You’ve been talking about me, about us?”



He nodded. “Good things, amazing things, but looking for advice, yes, Ma’am.”



She gave him a stern look. “I most certainly will join, and I will read every comment you made and until I do, you are not to touch those sites, not a single . . . stroke.” She ran her fingernail down the length of his nose, emphasizing her instruction. “I don’t want you second-guessing yourself, changing your posts until I have had a chance to read them.”



He nodded as much as her firm hand would allow, his eyes bright and sparkling. “Thank you.”



“And about this Mistress business. We’ll see. That sounds like a privilege to me. It sounds like something you have to earn. Perhaps, when I locked your cock away and take the key, perhaps that will be kind of like a collar for now.”



His eyes glazed over with hope. “I’d . . . I’d love that . . Ma’am.”



She raised one eyebrow and smiled when she saw him melt under her gaze. “I said . . . perhaps.”



She sauntered away to the window and gazed out at the Sunset. She felt him behind her, like a rock of molten lava, the heat, the energy, the need, the lust filling the shrinking room.



“Jim,” she whispered quietly, “what if . . . .” She could barely make her lips form around the words, but the buzzing energy of her power drove her to try. “What if . . . what if I wanted to hurt you?”



After a short silence, his barely audible reply came. “I . . . want that, too.”



If it were possible to have an orgasm that was entirely situated in the brain, in the heart, in the seat of emotion, she had one then.



“I have ideas about that,” she told him softly and he shuddered with pleasure.



* * *



She had long talks with her mentor. Her long talks led her to things she had not yet thought, to consider things she had not yet considered, and to have ideas. Lots of ideas.



She had made a decision. She had not told Jim about it. Not yet. She was sticking her foot in the water to see if it would scald her or soothe her.



Jim hated laundry. It was the one thing he found a way around, her laundry and his own. With her new mentor’s guidance, she decided to try an experiment.



First, she teased him. She took him aside on a Sunday, after their discussion of how things were going, which was uneventful. They both were happy with where things where. He’d asked when he would be allowed to cum. She told him he would cum when she decided it, and not before, but that she didn’t have a date in mind. Did he want a date? He did, but he didn’t. At least it was something to look forward to. She chose to compromise. Some time in the next month, which could mean next week or not until the very last minute of the very last day of the month, he would be allowed to cum, on her terms only, and she could change that time or change her mind whenever she wished. He told her it had been five months so far, since he’d touched himself, since he’d had an orgasm.



They’d had a little ceremony to celebrate his chastity belt.



Dinner, candles, drinks, and him naked as they played with it, fitted it, adjusted it.



Then dangling the little brass lock, like a golden trinket, before his eyes, she stood before him grinning. “Are you sure?”



He nodded, flushed. “Yes, Ma’am.”



She opened the lock and fiddled with it. “Are you sure you’re sure?”



He groaned and nodded, his voice now a whisper. “Yes, Ma’am.”



She felt a thrill when she inserted the lock into the little place on his little chastity belt. Before she closed it, she gave him a long, intimate look. “Last chance.”



He groaned quietly, and shuddered. After a moment, he nodded.



Click.



They both heard it, both felt it, the thrill, the seal, the deal, the meaning.



She pushed his button (and her own). “Now . . . you’re mine. You’re little willy belongs to me.” She tossed the tiny key across the room in the general vicinity of her purse. His eyes tracked it, was certain she’d never find it again.



It was such fun and she had stayed turned on the entire day. She half wanted to unlock him right then, right there, coat his cock with numbing cream, slap on the condom and have him please her. She chose not to, but enjoyed the lovely feelings of control which seemed to surge through her all the time now. It was no longer significant to feel that surge. She felt it all the time; it was becoming almost routine; and undercurrent of electricity. Less of a thrill, and more a warm, reassuring pulse.



How would she ever live without it?



For the first two weeks, he woke up off and on in the middle of the night, groaning, but never complaining. She would catch him coming back to bed. In the morning, he admitted to standing before the freezer with a bag of frozen peas pressed to his crotch. He smiled when he said it, but she worried a little.



Eventually, he stopped waking up. He knelt before her and she could see his head spinning, his chastity belt filling up, the pain in his eyes as his cock attempted unsuccessfully to grow. His cock had learned its lesson, he told her. It had learned not to grow aroused at night any more. It had learned to grow aroused only when she wanted it to.



Her heart thudded in her chest; her cheeks burned. She couldn’t been more in heaven. He had pushed her buttons in a big way, and now she was going to return the favor.



She was going to treat him like a toy, something with which she could play.



Her little experiment started innocently enough.



She paraded around him in a shirt and panties. He was busy, scrubbing the toilet. She shook her head at that. He didn’t mind scrubbing toilets, but he didn’t want to put her clothes in the washer.



She heard the little telltale signs of his little cock in its little cage giving him a lot of strife. She tried not to let him see her grinning.



“Come here, please,” she ordered and he dropped what he was doing and joined her in the living room.



She handed him her items, polish, ridge filler, file, clippers and so on. He held up his hands and she placed each in its place and told him to keep them where she placed them. He was on his knees, naked, waiting patiently. Sitting in her shirt and panties, she started with her left pinky, clipping, filing, pushing back the cuticles, using the cuticle cleaner, the cuticle cream, waiting between applications, sticking her toes under his chin. “Blow.” She buffed, applied the ridge filler, stuck her toes up by his face. “Blow.” She applied the color. Why was she straining her legs to lift her toes up so high? She placed them on the floor with her toes away from the carpet. “Blow.” He fell to his hands and knees dried her toenails. She applied the glossy top coat. “Blow.”



She sat back to marvel at her cute red toe nails.



She left him kneeling with her items placed carefully in his raised hands sporting an erection.



She busied herself in the kitchen, putting on the kettle, choosing which tea she wanted to put in the tea ball, waiting for the water the boil while she leaned against a counter. After a long while, because a watched kettle never whistles, she turned off the fire and poured hot water into her cup, watching as the tea ball let out clouds of swirling brown.



She brought her cup of tea back to the couch and was pleased to see Jim still in position. She sipped and smiled at him. “Do you like the way I did my nails?”



His arms were trembling slightly, still holding up her items. “Yes, Ma’am.”



“Do you like the color?”



He nodded, his hands lowered for a moment before he strained to lift them back into position. “Yes, Ma’am.”



She pouted. “That’s it? Just, ‘yes, Ma’am’? No compliments?”



He smiled and blushed. “They’re incredibly sexy, Ma’am.”



His erection had drooped, much to her dismay.



She stood and turned to give him a close up of her bottom, and slipped her panties down.



She peeked at him, enjoying the lust in his eyes and his stiffening cock.



She smiled and brought her panties to his mouth, whispering softly, “Open.”



His lips parted and he took her panties into his mouth, letting them drape, letting the soft material rub against his chin. He could smell her on them and it made him lightheaded.



She sat and wriggled her toes beneath his cock.



His eyes twisted with pleasure and he moaned quietly.



In a tone that was barely a tone, she spoke and he listened. “Do you like having my panties in your mouth?”



He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”



“Mmhmm, I thought you would. Can you smell me on them?”



His cheeks turned pink. “Yes, Ma’am.”



She raised an eyebrow. “Really? What does it smell like?”



He moaned and smiled and blushed deeply. “It smells like . . . like you. It smells like heaven.”



“Smells like me?”



He nodded.



“That’s quite a compliment, smelling like heaven. Could you be more specific though? What exactly does it smell like?”



He swallowed. “It smells like . . . your. . . .” He was too embarrassed to say it.



She leaned forward, expectant, her raised eyebrow raising more. “Like my what?”



He pressed his lips together until they turned white. “Your . . . .”



“My special sexy place?” She giggled.



He breathed with relief. “Yes, Ma’am.”



She tapped him on the nose with her finger. “Look at me.”



His eyes snapped up and gazed deep into hers.



“I have a chore for you. Would you like that?”



He nodded. “Yes, very much, Ma’am.”

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