Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Erin Ch. 20: Feeling the Buzz
By Jonathan Quincy Graves
{Note: This is number twenty in a multi-part story series cataloging the progressive evolution of a relationship between a dominant woman who provides leadership and discipline for her husband. Each installment can stand alone, but they read much better if you start at the beginning. Go to: Erin Ch.01: Female Led Relationship. JQGraves}
“Please don’t pack that.”
Erin took my punishment party dress off its hangar and was folding it up to pack into my suitcase. With all its ribbons, bows and integral petticoats, it was almost bulky enough to need a suitcase of its own.
“Oh, this is essential. Mother can’t wait to see it. I think she is considering a similar garment for dad, but wants to see you in yours before she contacts Mrs. Campbell.” On top of the dress, the last addition to the suitcase, she placed the black corset that compresses my stomach enough to fit me in the dress, plus the matching bra that contains the flesh squeezed out the top. I’ve lost a few pounds in recent weeks, thanks to my diet and Simone, my personal trainer, but I’ll need to be skeletal to fit into the punishment dress without something to squeeze in my waist.
“I don’t know why we can’t include some of my regular, men’s clothes, and do I really have to wear this… thing under my jeans? It’s humiliating.”
“Now darling, we’ve been over this several times. You look really cute in that butt lifter under your new stretch jeans.” [A High Waist Butt Lifter with Tummy Control to be exact] “The reports I’ve received from Simone say the other ladies love the look it gives you from behind. And, as for men’s clothing, you’re wearing men’s jeans and a nice shirt for the trip over. We both know you won’t need more than that while you’re with mother.”
Other than the dress, bra and corset, Erin included several changes of panties and socks along with two pairs of shoes, the fuzzy pink wedges and the patent Mary Janes.
“I didn’t know they made stretch jeans for men,” I muttered.
“What’s that, dear?”
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“I know. Me too, but I’ve got India and China scheduled in the same week, so I won’t be gone too long. I was surprised when China granted the visa allowing me to fly there direct from India, and I had to accept some god-awful travel times to make it work, but I don’t want to be gone any longer than you want me to.”
“I wish…”
“Now, before you say any more and get yourself into trouble, I am not going to leave you home alone where I am sure you will just get yourself into trouble. I think the chastity cage secured with your Prince Albert piercing is pretty much tamper proof, but ‘pretty much’ is not enough to convince me to leave you unsupervised for the entire week. I’ve no doubt you could come up with another dozen ways to break the rules in my absence. With a week unsupervised, you’d break rules I haven’t even thought of making yet. Besides, you like mother. Just be thankful she is willing to take you. The alternative would be my friend Michelle, and I know you would not enjoy that. If I’m mistaken, please let me know. Michelle has offered her services several times.”
I didn’t have to say a word. The panic on my face answered her question. Michelle is the Whore of Mephistopheles, the claimer of souls. I’ve never met her, but only suffering and damnation comes from the workings of that woman.
“No? Alright, let’s be off. You’ll be fine.”
I road shotgun on the way to Erin’s mother’s house, anxiety mounting. I broke the silence with, “I wish you didn’t have to fly out on Saturday.”
“Me too, dear, but the only way I can fit both India and China into the same work week is to travel early and get a running start in India first thing Monday morning. Bangalore is thirteen hours ahead of us, so it is already tomorrow there, I won’t have much time to recover from jetlag as it is. Plus, from the company’s standpoint, Saturday travel is much cheaper than Sunday.”
“I know, but your mother holds maintenance sessions on Saturday evening, and hers are really intense. I don’t suppose you could ask her to not include me this week?”
Erin chuckled. “So that’s what’s got your panties in a knot. Well, you suppose correctly, my dear. Your conduct lately has not been exemplary. I would have to make a strong case for you to convince mother she should give you a pass this week, and frankly, there just isn’t anything you’ve done upon which I could build such a case. No, sorry darling, you’re going to have to suck it up, take mother’s discipline and try to learn from the experience. On the up side, father won’t be there to add to your embarrassment. He is off in the mountains on his annual elk hunt. It will just be you and mother this week.”
Oh joy, I thought, I will have my mother-in-law’s undivided attention for the next seven, no, eight days. Every married man’s dream.
Traffic was heavier than expected for çapa escort a Saturday, and it took more time to get to MIL’s house than Erin planned. “I’ll have to just drop you off,” Erin said as we pulled up at the curb. “They want me at the airport two hours before my flight. I’m clearly not going to make that. Please give my love to mother.”
I hauled my suitcase up the walk to the front door—haul may not be the right word, it was surprisingly light, containing mostly feminine frillies—and knocked on the door. MIL doesn’t want us to use the doorbell as it sends her goldendoodle Samantha into hysterics. I could hear the dog announcing my arrival to her mistress, but it was a couple minutes before MIL came to the door and invited me in.
Closing the door behind me, she said, “Welcome. Erin not coming in?”
“No, she’s running late. She sends her love.”
“No matter,” she said and looked at my waist. “Turn for me,” she added, revolving her index finger in the air. “I like it,” she said as I was half way around. “Makes a lady like me eager to upend those shapely buns over her lap for some old-fashioned application of matronly hand to deserving cheeks. But that will have to wait; let’s get you settled. Follow me.”
Mother led me up the stairs to the guest bedroom. (I defy any man to not gaze at those matronly, but still quite shapely buns at eye level going up the stairs.) She had me put the suitcase on the bed, then brushed me aside and opened the bag. She admired the bra and corset for a moment, chuckled and told me where to put them in the dresser against the wall. Next came the punishment party dress.
“Oh my,” she said. “This is delightful. So excessively girlish! So excessively little girlish! Can’t wait to see you in this, you’ll model it for us before the week is over. Hang it in the closet for now.”
Us?! I’m afraid to ask, I thought.
The rest of the suitcase contents were consigned to drawers in the dresser, the shoes and the empty bag to the closet floor.
“Let’s see what you’re wearing today. Take of the shoes, pants and shirt. (MIL kept me in panties and matching socks the last time I stayed with her, and Erin adopted that dress code when she learned of it.) I stripped down, hanging the shirt in the closet, folding the pants and putting them in a drawer. Erin put me in powder-blue panties this morning, with matching ankle socks and the hated butt lifter. I was down to what I usually wear at home, but it was embarrassing to strip to it in front of my mother-in-law, even though I’ve done it before.
“Very nice,” mother said. “Turn for me, slowly. I’ve heard of this shapewear, of course, but maintaining my figure has never been one of my problems. It does seem to be one of yours, though. You’ve put on weight since you were last here. What is it? Fifteen, twenty pounds?”
“Closer to twenty at my peak, but I’m down four pounds from that now.”
“Well, keep at it, son. Nothing is less appealing than a fat man in panties. Although, with the addition of that lifter…” She smoothed her hand over my panty covered ass and gave it a pat. “Take it off, for now; I’ve got something for you.”
“Take it off?”
“Yes, dear, panties and shapewear off, please. You can keep your socks on,” she said with a smile.
I’ve been naked before my mother-in-law, but it is still embarrassing—bad enough in just panties. I removed the panties and peeled off the shapewear. It’s kind of like peeling a banana. I take it at the top and fold it over, then roll it down my body. It’s inside out as I slide it down my legs. I dropped it on the bed then turned toward MIL, a hand casually in front of my junk. It is always a relief to remove the butt lifter. It includes a band of stretch fabric between my legs, which holds my chastity cage and testicles uncomfortably up against me.
“Sit on the edge of the bed, then lay back. Spread your legs.”
I took the position she directed, blushing in embarrassment. Mother has seen and handled my equipment multiple times. She did the after-care for the Prince Albert piercing. But it is still embarrassing to be so open to her gaze, or to have anyone other than Erin make intimate contact down there.
Mother extracted a little silver key from her pocket—I’d forgotten that Erin gave her one—removed the small padlock that joined the cage to my Prince Albert piercing and slid all the parts off. It has been a couple weeks since my last freedom, and it feels great. I had no illusions, however, that MIL would let me stay free for long.
There was a basin of soapy water on the dresser, and mother wetted a washcloth and proceeded to clean my groin. The handling of my penis caused it to grow tumescent, at which she smirked. She was very thorough, working the washcloth all over the area, repeatedly, and down into the crack of my ass. This was followed by a hand towel to dry me off and the application of a fragrant powder.
I aksaray escort put up with it in silence until the perfumed powder, then asked, “Why are you doing this? I took a shower this morning.”
“You’ll see. I bought you something special. We’ll have to do something about this first, though,” she said and slapped my member. “You boys are all alike. The slightest attention to what you have below your waist makes you all think the nearest woman is going to spread her legs for you.” She lifted a cold pack off the dresser and slapped it over my junk. She smacked my testicles in the process, and the sudden cold made me jerk back and close my knees together. MIL just smiled, holding the ice in place.
When I had shrunk to a little nubbin, my mother-in-law opened a small box that was on the dresser, revealing an electronic chastity device. I only got a glimpse of it as she approached—I cannot see my groin while I lay back—but I noticed a small black box underneath, with some wires embedded in the plastic. The tube is shorter than my own cage, so it fit snuggly even though I was currently well below normal size.
“This is the latest in electronic chastity devices. I’ve been telling your wife about it,” she said as she put it all together and locked the tip to my Prince Albert piercing. “My hubby wears one like it most days. It has a remote,” she said, lifting a small remote control for me to see, “that can be used to… stimulate your penis. For example,” MIL pressed a button on the remote, and the cage began to vibrate. “Stimulate” is the right word for the effect it had on me. The vibrations penetrated throughout my cock and balls. It felt wonderful, at first. Then, my cock tried to expand in its new, tighter prison, which balanced the pleasure with an equal frustration when it could not grow. The buzzing lasted for about three seconds.
“Hubby and I have codes worked out so that if we are not in the same room, I can send for him or request specific actions depending upon the rhythm of pulses I send him. I won’t bother to teach you those patterns this week; you and Erin can make up your own. However, if you feel the mechanism vibrate, assume I want you to come to me, wherever I am at the time. This unit can also deliver shocks of varying pain levels. Would you like me to demonstrate those?”
“No! No thank you, ma’am.”
“Good choice. Just understand that if I buzz for you, you will want to respond quickly so that I am not tempted to use that feature.
“You can get up now and put your panties back on. Leave the shapewear for now, you’ll want to get used to the additional bulk between your legs. Put your boy shoes in the closet and wear the fuzzy, pink wedges. They should compliment your powder blue panties nicely. When your dressed, go to the kitchen. I’ve saved this morning’s dishes so that you would have something to do with your time. There’s an apron laid out for you. I’m behind on a few things, so I’ll be working in my office. It should take me about an hour, so don’t rush your work, you have plenty of time. I’ll deliver your weekly maintenance discipline when I’m caught up. Later, I’ll help you prepare dinner.”
My butt cheeks clenched with that last part of MIL’s agenda. Do the dishes, get spanked to tears and prepare dinner, I thought, another typical Saturday afternoon with my mother-in-law.
I shivered, reached for my panties and tried to put it out of my mind as I pulled them on. It was a relief to have even this small bit of covering on my body. The outline of my imprisoned package was obvious through the thin material, but not having it out swinging for all to see was an improvement. Even though my mother-in-law was the only one here to see me.
I found an overly girlie apron waiting for me in the kitchen, put it on and got to work. There wasn’t much for me to do, just the few dishes from that day’s breakfast and lunch for one. I wiped down the counter top and the kitchen table. Decided the front of the cabinets and the oven could use a little attention, and looked closely at the floor. The floor was spotless, but I got out the mop, anyway. I had to keep busy or I would dwell on the upcoming spanking over the knees of my mother-in-law. As it was, the thought was constantly in the back of my mind, trying to turn me into a cowering lump in the corner.
I was three quarters through the mopping when my groin began to vibrate. I panicked. I wasn’t done (although even I couldn’t tell by looking). Plus, I had the mop and a bucket to put away. I could not just leave them in the middle of the kitchen floor. Could I put them in the pantry, just to get them out of sight? I hurried that direction, sloshing some water from the bucket in my haste. “Damn,” I swore, grabbing a dishtowel and dropping down to clean up the mess.
I was just getting off my knees when lightning struck my balls. I squealed and dropped back down into a fetal position on the floor. The topkapı escort shock, like the vibration, lasted for about three seconds. The difference was, with the shock, three seconds lasted for a good twenty minutes. I wasn’t sure it would ever stop, but three seconds after it started, the pain switched off. I lay there panting for a few seconds, then my groin began to vibrate again.
I sprang to my feet, almost knocking the bucket of wash water over, and ran down the hall to my mother-in-law’s office, losing a fuzzy slipper along the way. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Come,” I heard from the other side.
I stepped out of the remaining slipper so that I wouldn’t bob up and down as I walked in, opened the door and saw my mother-in-law sitting in her spanking chair situated in front of her desk. A hairbrush lay on the desk’s surface within easy reach.
“Did you feel my initial summons?”
“Yes, ma’am, I just…”
“And I’m sure you felt the consequence of not responding promptly. I heard you squeal like a girl from here. Now you know how that package works. I hope that satisfies any curiosity you may have had, and that you will react quickly the next time you are summoned. What you received was the default setting for intensity and duration. Both of those can be increased as necessary. I recommend that you not make it necessary.
“Now, stand here,” she said, pointing to the floor in front of her.
I moved to the indicated spot and my mother-in-law put her thumbs in the waistband of my panties and lowered them, still maintaining eye contact. “These weekly sessions are necessary to maintain the proper relationship between the female and male of a well-run household. Erin did not advise me of anything special she wanted me to review with you but there is the obvious issue of your excessive weight. No husband of mine would have reached your level of obesity. So, think on that this week, and try to learn from this experience.
MIL took me by the hips, brought me between her widespread thighs and lowered me over her left knee. She clamped me between her legs and asked for my right hand. Secured in place, I felt her hand stroke and squeeze my bottom.
“You have an even more spankable bottom than hubby does,” she said. Then her hand lifted and, SMACK! she delivered the first spank. I’ve been spanked by Erin and her mother for years now, but the first spank is still a painful surprise and I jerked in response. She waited a couple seconds for that spank to fully registered before delivering another, and another, and another. After a half dozen, she paused and rubbed for a few seconds before resuming the spanking.
A physically fit, practiced and determined woman can make a significant impression with an open hand delivered repeatedly to a defenseless, bare bottom, and Erin’s mother was all of those things. Her hand must be well conditioned to deliver such an impact without feeling some pain as well. There was no sign of discomfort on her part, only mine.
I silently counted the spanks out of habit, but lost track at thirty. Other things, namely the pain and my attempt to not cry out, dominated my thinking. I always try to take a spanking, “like a man,” even after all these years of being spanked over the knee of a woman, “like a naughty little boy.” There are limits to my manliness that both Erin and her mother have no problem reaching and surpassing. With Erin, it occurs after a couple dozen spanks in a meeting with Lucile. With her mother, I’m usually on the ragged edge before she even reaches for her hairbrush. That was the case today. I was struggling to hold back the tears—gasping and fighting the instinct to kick and squirm—as she finished with the hand spanking portion of this session.
“Take deep breaths, dear,” she said, softly stroking my inflamed bottom. “We’re through the first part of your discipline. Try to calm yourself.”
Fat chance of that, I thought as the tears started to leak past my closed eyelids, I know what comes next.
It was a good minute, maybe longer, when I felt her reach for the hairbrush. I’d gotten my breathing back under control, and the tensing of my muscles had relaxed, but I gasped and clenched in anticipation of what was to come.
“Relax, dear,” she said, patting my buttocks with the brush, “you won’t bruise as much if you do not clench your cheeks.”
Easy for her to say. I told my butt to unclench and as it did, there was a resounding, SMACK!! as power-driven rock maple impacted with timorous, flaccid ass flesh. I hate the brush! I hate, hate! HATE! the brush, and my mother-in-law’s hairbrush is every bit as devastating as Lucile.
I lost it with the first spank of the hairbrush. In no time I was begging, pleading, crying and struggling to escape the relentless impact of that hard, polished wood on my naked, swollen ass. Erin’s mother followed no particular pattern, in her placement of those burning impacts, sometimes delivering several stinging smacks to the same vulnerable spot, sometimes side to side, but always with impressive and painful force. My ass had long since turned bright red, so she extended the area for punishment down three or four inches onto my thighs. I was past the point of taking note, it all hurt. It all really, really hurt.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32