Domestic Discipline Addict Ch. 03

I smiled.

"More than you know honey," I said and reached out and grabbed her nipple, deliberately pinching, hard, and twisting, knowing I was hurting her.

She cried out, but the cry was "yesssssssssssssssssssssssss," and not a negation.

I smiled and said, "you have to know that this kind of control is a turn-on for me too, don't you?"

And she smiled back and said, "God, I hope so."

"It can't be all pain though honey," I said, "or you'll just go crazy. So relax."

I scooted close and snuggled up to her, taking the nipple I had just hurt into my mouth and suckling, gently, nursing, my hand light on her waist and back, gently caressing.

I nursed for a while, and she stroked my hair, humming a little lullaby.

I actually dozed off after a while.

When I woke she was laying next to me, hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling.

I smiled and nuzzled, licking her armpit, fascinated still by how smooth she was everywhere.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I said softly, nuzzling closer.

"Honestly?" she said, not looking over at me.

"Yes," I said, following it with another lick making her giggle a little.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'm frightened."

"About all of this," she said, waving her arm weakly.

"David," she went on, "you know me. Would you say I'm a strong, independent, smart, capable woman?"

I chuckled and said, "Is this a trick question?"

"No," she said, "I'm serious."

"Then yes," I said, rolling up onto my side to look at her now, "you are most definitely all of those things."

"But it turns out I'm not," she said in a very quiet voice.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Because strong women don't want to be spanked, to be hurt, to suffer to get their release," she said, her voice getting stronger.

I chuckled.

"It's not funny," she said, "I'm serious."

I rolled up onto my knees and reached down and gently parted her legs.

Her eyes were still open and she was looking at the ceiling but she didn't try to stop what I was doing.

I kissed her softly and then deliberately slapped her on her full pussy lips making an audible slap.

She cried out and reached down to cover herself but I caught her hand.

"Arlene," I said, holding her hand in mine, "it's natural. You're just fighting against the stupidity of this society we both grew up in."

"No," she said, "it's not JUST the surrender, the submission."

She took another of those deep breaths.

"David, I think I don't just need the surrender, I'm afraid I LIKE the pain," she said.

I kissed her very softly and whispered into her ear, "good, because I like giving it to you."

"Will you spank me please then?" she asked, rolling onto her belly and arching her back.

"No," I said simply.

She giggled and got up onto all fours, her breasts hanging free, and looked over at me.

"Please?" she said again.

I chuckled and patted her ass.

"No," I said again, "I'm going to shower with you, wash your back, do your hair and makeup, and then take you out to show you off."

"Oh," she said, "and where are you taking me?"

I grinned and patted her ass again.

"Somewhere I can show off your best features," I said.

She giggled and said, "my ass," to which I replied "yep."

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little after five.

I slapped her ass once, hard enough to draw a yelp, and said, "Up wench, time to get ready," and rolled out of bed before she could grab me.

I helped her out of bed, managing to successfully defeat her attempt to drag me back, and led her into the bathroom.

We showered together and it was no more sensual or erotic than it usually is which is to say I washed her very thoroughly, paying particular attention to her boobs, pussy, and ass, and she returned the favor, making sure my cock was squeaky clean.

Clean and dry, I sat her at her makeup table and started getting her ready.

I have always enjoyed pampering Arlene, and saw no reason to stop because of our, well, our new situation.

I started on her hair, thick and blonde with no grey (as long as Miss Clairol is in business anyway), brushing and fluffing as I used the blow dryer. When I was done she looked like a country music performer with big hair.

Then I did her face. A light base and just a hint of rouge to highlight her cheekbones. It was her eyes that I paid the most attention to. Eyeliner with sharp points to the outsides, giving her an exotic oriental look. The bright light blue eye shadow was next, heavy, obvious. Then the outrageously long false eyelashes, black and obvious, almost like feathers on her upper lids. Finally, the lipstick, the brightest red we had, heavy, accenting her mouth, with a light smear across her upper teeth just because I liked that look too.

I stood back and admired my work.

"I DO enjoy being seen with the prettiest woman in the place," I said.

She examined herself in the mirror and said, "hmmmmm, or the most expensive whore?"

I laughed and said, "No honey, the prettiest woman."

"Now, let's see what daddy brought home from the store," I said making her giggle.

I opened the bag from Naughty and Nice and pulled out the wonderful buttless combination pantyhose/spanks/girdle I had bought, and handed it to her.

She looked at it and up at me and giggled.

"Okay Head of the Household," she said, smiling, "if this is what you want."

I just grinned and motioned for her to get on with it.

She sat on the bench under our bedroom window and started working the hose up. They had a lace pattern and were so tight that as she worked them on her soft skin bulged out, just a little, through the lace. Then she worked the wide belt part up, adjusting her ass where the tightness of the girdle squeezed under her cheeks, lifting and pushing them out. I stepped to her and took the built-in belt, lifting the front until it was smooth across the little pouch of her belly and then tightened it until soft skin squeezed out above.

She looked over her shoulder into the mirror and said, "Jesus David, it's not like I don't have enough caboose already."

I chuckled and patted where she stuck out so delightfully and said, "as the old TV commercial used to say, if you've got it flaunt it."

I handed her the top I had bought and she looked at me with one eyebrow up.

"No bra?" she said, what can only be described as an "impish" smile on her face.

I lifted and dropped her right breast and said, "again, flaunt it."

She looked at the top, working it out, and then slipped her arms into it. At her throat, there was a collar, almost like a turtleneck, that buttoned with two buttons. At the bottom, there was another button. Between it was open. She buttoned and stood back, standing with her hands at her sides.

She looked absolutely stunning.

The black blouse set of her blonde hair and scarlet lipstick. The way the top was cut it gapped slightly, leaving no doubt whatsoever that she had no bra on, but keeping her boobs covered. The tights were opaque in front, lacy on her legs and, of course, lifted and pushed that big beautiful ass out.

"Ummmmmm," she said, "I hope there's more in that little bag."

I chuckled and pulled out the long wraparound skirt that went with the outfit.

She put it on and suddenly, from the back anyway, was quite modest. The skirt was calf length with a simple tie on the side.

"Oh," I said, grinning, "and," and I pulled out the shoebox from the bottom of the bag.

She giggled and said, "Oh goody, shoes."

When she opened them she looked up at me, again with the speculative, one eyebrow raised look.

The shoes were bright red stilettos, not the extreme 6" heels, but 4" heels quite a bit higher than the 2" and sometimes 3" she normally wore.

But she sat and put them on. They fit, of course. I know my wife's sizes very well.

When she stood and did a slow turn, showing me, I was instantly erect.

She was absolutely stunning, all in black and red with plenty of very pale skin showing.

"Give me three minutes," I said, "and do NOT mess up my handiwork."

She giggled and said "yes dear," and headed into the living room.

I quickly selected what I figured would be appropriate evening wear for where we were going, my black suit, white starched shirt, black shoes, bright red socks, and one of my very brightly patterned Rush Limbaugh "No Boundaries" ties.

She whistled when I called her back into the room.

I chuckled and said, "we'll be a hit tonight."

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked.

I laughed and said, "patience."