tagBDSMEarning His Keep

Earning His Keep


I punched in the code and waited. I knew that I was being charged $1.99 for each minute, but I didn't care. I listened to the recorded music until a woman's voice came over the phone.

"Tell Mistress Monica, have you been a naughty little sissy?"

"No, but apparently my husband has." There was a long pause on the other end.

"I just spoke to the manager. He said that as long as you used his screen name and knew the correct code, there is no reason not to speak with you. I have to remind you that you are being charged a dollar ninety nine per minute. Now, what can Mistress Monica do for you?"

"Not very much," I replied. I found his laptop and a box of lingerie; I just wanted to hear the voice that destroyed our marriage."

"I think I understand. You came upon his kinky stash. You feel repulsed and betrayed. You want to hurt him as badly as he's hurt you."

"I must say that you're very good at what you do. You are very intuitive."

"Honey, when you've talked to as many submissive men as I have, you could do this in your sleep. Come to think of it, why don't you? I don't mean professionally, but it would be an interesting way to save your marriage and pay him back for his deception."

The idea of saving my marriage appealed to me, but I wasn't sure about the rest of it.

"I'm no mistress, Miss, er, Mistress Monica. I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Call me Monica. We keep a profile on our clients. I can email it to you, and then we could go through it and create a scenario for you and your husband, one that will continue for as long as you please. It would take an hour or so, are you willing to pay the charges?"

"To save my marriage and pay him back? It would be worth it."

I gave her my email address, and we waited while I sent it to the printer. We chatted while it printed.

"Just out of curiosity, does he really have a small penis?" I had to laugh.

"Well, at least he's told the truth about something. Although I have to admit, it gets as stiff as a twig, and it stays that way. Chris is rather small and petite, so it doesn't look quite as puny if he was built like a football player"

"That's good to know. I can recommend the proper chastity device without all the measuring and guesswork. How about you, what do you look like?"

"I've been told that I look like the tall redhead on "That 70's Show." I'm at least three inches taller than Chris."

"I still can't believe that Chris is such a freak," I said. "He's so normal, he's lame."

"That's the way it usually is, she laughed, "But he's hardly a freak. There are lots of men whose fantasies are a contradiction to who they really are."

"Just how many "Naughty Sissies" do you talk to?"

"You punched in the code, that's his number." I gasped.

"You have that many perverts? That's incredible!"

"Honey, that's just his number. There are more, and that's just the guys using that screen name. There are men with far more unusual requests than your Naughty Sissy. Have you printed his profile?"

"I'm all set. What do I do next?"

"I'll walk you through it. This should be fun; I'm accustomed to playing to the guy's fantasies. This time we're going to use his fantasies against him. Before we begin, there are lots of web sites that pay for photos and videos. It's just something to keep in mind. Okay, first of all...

* * * * *

I was sitting on the couch when Chris came home. His box of lingerie, his secret credit card and cell phone sat on the coffee table. I feigned being too engrossed with his laptop to look up. I returned his hello with a disinterested one of my own. I would have enjoyed seeing the look on his face, but the moment was captured on the new surveillance cameras I had installed in strategic locations throughout the house. I also increased the lighting, not enough for Chris to notice, but enough to improve the quality of the tapes and the photos I intended to take. Naturally, the audio was state of the art, as well.

"Carol, he stammered, I can explain." I kept my eyes on the screen as I replied.

"I sincerely doubt that you can explain, but I don't see any need. This smut speaks for itself." He dropped his bag and rushed to sit beside me on the sofa. I could hear his breath coming in short gasps as he saw the photos on his laptop.

"I'm sorry, Carol. Please, Carol, you know how much I love you."

"If you love me that much, why did you keep this from me? Husbands and wives shouldn't keep secrets from each other." I still hadn't taken my eyes off his laptop.

"I'm sorry; I thought you would think I was a pervert." I finally turned and looked at him. I had to keep from laughing. He was as white as a ghost and visibly shaking.

"You are a pervert, but you're my pervert. Did it ever occur to you to come to me instead of a voice on the phone?"

There it was; the glimmer of hope in his eyes. He was nibbling at the bait.

"Carol, do you mean that you would consider..."

"Consider what, treating you like a pervert, giving you just what you deserve?"

"I don't know what to say, this is happening so fast!"

I took hold of his chin and drew him close, until we were face to face.

"Repeat after me: I will respect and obey my wife at all times."

"I will, he gulped, "respect and obey my wife at all times."

He'd taken the bait. I turned my attention to the laptop before I replied.

"That is Rule number one: you will respect and obey me, without question."

"Yes, Mistress."

"That won't do, I am not your mistress. I am your wife, and you belong to me. Now, Rule number two: I will stay off of the furniture. I suggest you do that, at once."

Baited and hooked, he fell to his knees and knelt at my feet beside the coffee table.

"I will explain the rules as we go along, but this is a command: you will go and shower. You will shave your genitals and return to me. I suggest you do that, at once."

I smiled with satisfaction as he crawled away on his hands and knees. I hadn't ordered him to crawl. He would soon learn not to assume my wishes. I hoped he hadn't taken it upon himself to shave his legs. That was another part of his fetish he would be denied until it was no longer a pleasure for him. But I didn't want him to know that, not yet.

I wasn't surprised to see him crawling naked to kneel at my feet. I'd closed the laptop and taken a seat in the leather armchair, the armchair that was once his alone. I breathed a sigh of relief to see that he hadn't shaved his legs. He was probably planning on begging me not to "make" him do that. I was beginning to warm up to this. This just might be entertaining, after all!

"Turn around and place your forehead on the floor. I want you to spread your knees and stick your ass up as high as you can."

Once he'd assumed the position, I reached forward and fondled his balls. They were as smooth as a baby's and, truthfully, not much larger. His penis was already stiff and drooling precum.

"You should see yourself. You look ridiculous, like a little queer boy, waiting to get fucked. Come on, queer boy; wag that fanny. Shake it like you want it!" I giggled as he swung his ass for me. According to Monica, this was the final culmination, the zenith of his submissive fantasy. Having a man fuck his ass wasn't something he actually wanted to do. It was the final humiliation, a part of the profile where he rarely ventured. She suggested that I hint at it early in his training, and then refrain from bringing it up again. Well, not ever, but at least for now.

"Roll over, onto your back."

Once in position, I stood up and straddled his torso, facing his throbbing little boner. I raised my denim skirt to reveal my naked pussy. Without ceremony, I lowered myself until my pussy rested lightly on his face. He began to lick me.

"Stop that! I didn't give you permission to eat me. Just lay still and concentrate on breathing."

I rubbed my pussy back and forth, up and down his face. I found his nose with my clit and ground myself against it. While he gasped for air, I stroked his cock. Each time I thought he was about to cum; I let it go and watched it bobbing up and down. When I felt he was back in control, I ran my finger up and down his hairless balls, and then resumed stroking his dick. Previous experience taught me to bring him off by using my thumb and forefinger just under the crown. Using a rolling motion, I flip the tip of his dick up and down until he squirts. I hadn't planned on cumming myself, but I had two orgasms before I finally let him cum.

Once he'd finished, his dick began to soften. As I mentioned, Chris's little penis grows hard quickly, so I had to hurry. I reached for the little plastic cage and used his semen for lubrication to fasten him into the device. I gave it a tug and slapped it back and forth a few times before I stood and straightened my skirt. I sat back in his chair and picked up a magazine. Chris stayed in position until he meekly asked what I wanted him to do next.

"You can get dressed if you like, I really don't care. I'm finished with you for now."

I smiled with satisfaction when he stood and walked to the bedroom. He thought we were through role playing. He probably thought I would remove the chastity cage before bed. I had to hand it to Monica, she really knew her stuff. I remained stoic when he returned dressed in his robe and sat down on the sofa with a sheepish grin.

"What are you doing on the sofa?" He looked bewildered.

"I thought we were finished with the game."

I pointed to the carpet at my feet.

"Get over here."

Once he was kneeling beseechingly at my feet, I surprised him with a sharp slap on the face. I grabbed the front of his robe and dragged him up to face me again.

"What is Rule number one?" He actually had to think back to remember.

"Rule number one: I will respect and obey my wife at all times."

"Tell me, Chris, what is Rule number two?"

"Rule number two: I will stay off of the furniture." I tightened my hold on his robe.

"This isn't a game. This isn't role play. You will obey my rules. You will stay off the furniture. You are not allowed on the furniture, not in this house, not ever. You will not place anything on the furniture. You will not remove anything from the furniture. If I forget to leave the remote on the floor, you will not watch television. Do you understand?" The sheepish grin and been replaced with grim realization.

"I understand, but may I ask a question."

"Unless I tell you to be silent, you may always ask a question. Rule number three: I will not beg or whine. Now, what is it?"

"Will I be allowed to sleep in our bed?"

"The bed falls under a different category. The bed will be subject to command. We will get to that later. Is there anything else?"

"No, dear, I understand."

"Very well; would you like to watch television before dinner?"

"Yes, please."

I reached over to the coffee table and picked up the remote. I tossed it to him and returned to my magazine. Chris sat on the floor and turned on the TV.

* * * * *

Presently, I put down my magazine and announced that I was about to prepare dinner. Again, the hope of experiencing his fantasy flashed across Chris's face.

"Would you like me to fix dinner, dear?

"Oh, no, sweetie; you just relax while I get it ready. Is spaghetti okay with you? I didn't have a chance to do the grocery shopping.

"Sure, Carol; spaghetti is fine."

He looked bewildered. So far, the only part of his fetishes I'd addressed was the cock cage, which was only a prop in his fantasy. He was hoping that I would "order" him to perform his domestic chores. I left him sitting on the floor as I made dinner.

"Come and get it. I hope you're hungry. I thought we'd eat in the kitchen. There's no point in making a mess in the dining room."

He didn't miss the fact that the table was set for one. I filled two plates and set one on the table, and then handed my dumbfounded husband his plate. I sat down and began to have my dinner.

"Carol, ah, where...where would you like me to sit?"

"What is Rule number two?"

I kept my attention to my plate while he answered.

"Rule number two: I will stay off of the furniture." I shrugged, as if it were self explanatory.

"The counter isn't furniture; would it be okay if I ate standing at the counter?"

"That's true; the counter isn't furniture. But I don't like the idea of having you looming over me with your plate higher than mine. Why don't you come and sit beside me?

I indicated the floor next to my chair. He sat down, frustrated. This wasn't what he had in mind. All I had to do, he thought, was to order him into the kitchen, where he would prepare dinner. He imagined being "forced" to wear nothing but one of my aprons. This wasn't kinky, this wasn't fun. Sitting on the floor, still dressed in his bathrobe was just uncomfortable, especially because I behaved as if we'd always eaten in this fashion.

I couldn't keep from laughing as he tried to bring a forkful of spaghetti from his plate on the floor to his mouth.

"Chris, why don't you just pick up your plate and raise it closer to your mouth? See, isn't that much easier?"

We ate our dinner and chatted as usual. Occasionally, I would offer him a roll, or he would hold up his wine glass for a refill.

"I'd be happy to do the dishes and clean the kitchen, honey."

"Thanks, Chris, but I can handle this. The remote is still on the floor, isn't it? Why don't you watch TV? My shows are on tonight."

Chris hates Desperate Housewives and CSI. I'm sure he was hoping that the humiliation of watching these programs from the living room carpet would give me some ideas. Perhaps, he hoped I would remove his cage and maybe let him...but that wasn't how the evening was spent. He tried to make himself comfortable without a pillow while I watched my shows."

"Well, I said as I stood and stretched, "I'm ready for bed. Oh, I almost forgot, you don't know our new sleeping arrangements.'

I knelt beside him and looked into his eyes.

"I'm going to the bath and prepare for bed. When I come out, I expect to find you on the floor next to the bed. I will decide whether I want you in my bed depending on my needs and your behavior."

"Do you want me to wear anything, ah, in particular?"

He glanced over to the box of lingerie on the coffee table.

"Wear what you like. If you'd feel more comfortable in panties or one of your frilly nighties, just say the word and I'll set your box on the floor."

"That's okay; if you'd rather I didn't."

"Whatever; turn out the lights and come to bed."

Once again, I'd taken the fun out of it for him. I left him in the living room and went to the master bath to get ready for bed. When I came out of the bath, he was naked and sitting like an Indian beside the bed. He looked up, expectedly. I walked to the other side of the bed and slipped in. I allowed him a good look at my short silky robe before I let it fall to the floor. I let him have a good look at the matching bikini panties before I tossed him a pillow and turned off the light. It took less than five minutes before he was whimpering.

"You are such a baby. Come on up here before I change my mind."

I spooned him as we drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

I was awakened the next morning with Chris tossing and turning in bed. Several times, he was up and in the bathroom. He would climb back into bed and wake me up each time I tried to go back to sleep. Finally, I gave up and sat up in bed.

"What the hell is wrong with you? It's Sunday morning. How can I sleep in with you bouncing up and out of bed?"

"It's this thing on my cock. I can't get rid of this hard on. I can't even get hard with this thing. Would you please take it off, now? I need to pee, and I can't even do that!"

"No, not now; I'm trying to sleep. Get out of bed and go watch your football games."

"Please, Carol, can't you take it off so I can at least go pee?"

"I said, no; didn't you hear me the first time?"

"Carol I can't stand it! Please, just so I can go pee. I'll put it back on, I swear!"

"What is Rule number three?"

"Rule umber three: I will not whine or beg."

I got out of bed and slipped my robe on. I went to the closet and started rummaging around until I found what I needed. I'm sure Chris thought I was looking for the key.

"Get over here. Take off your bathrobe and sit at my feet."

In a flash, he was naked and kneeling at my feet. Instead of unlocking his cage, I placed a dog collar around his neck and attached the leash. The leash was one of those that extends and contracts like a tape measure.

"You enjoy crawling so much, you can follow me."

I led him through the house, tugging on the leash. He struggled to keep up. He knew I was pissed. He knew I wasn't teasing him the way he would enjoy. I needn't look to know his little penis was no longer pushing against its cage. I led him out the back door and into the backyard. I ordered him to crawl to the middle of the yard and stay. I uncoiled the garden hose and attached the trigger nozzle to its end.

"Chris, remind me, what is Rule number one?"

"Rule number one: I will respect and obey my wife at all times."

Without warning, I turned the hose on him. The night had been cold enough to ensure the water was ice cold. He yelped and whimpered as he tried to avoid the cold spray of water. I hosed him off until he was dripping wet. He tried desperately to catch his breath. I used the trigger nozzle to stop the water and then gave him a moment to recover. He was shivering so hard, he could barely hold his position.

"What is Rule number three?"

"Ruh...ruh...Rule n-number th-three: I will not whine or beg."

I turned the hose on him again. This time, I adjusted the nozzle until it produced a thin, hard stream. I placed a lawn chair about twenty feet from him and made myself comfortable before I gave him a blast that hit him square on his shrunken testicles. He cried out in pain and closed his legs to avoid the stream of cold water.

"Spread you knees or I'll think of something else to teach you to mind me."

Reluctantly he resumed his position. I gave him a few shots directly to his asshole.

"Well Chris, tell me, do you still have an erection?"

"No, Carol; my dick is soft now."

I turned off the water and reeled him in with the leash. I ordered him to rise into a kneeling position at my feet.

"You can buy an ice pack; you can use a bag of frozen peas or you can take a cold shower. Or, I can drag you out here and hose you down like a horny dog. But you will never break The Rules simply because you can't control your erection."

Even under these circumstances, Chris would have loved for me to ridicule his diminutive penis by calling it his little weenie, his tiny pee-pee or something of that nature. Chris was denied the only pleasure he could have derived from his lesson. All that was left was to give him a sliver of hope that he would finally be allowed his fantasies.

I opened my skimpy robe and slipped off my panties. I placed them over his head with the crotch covering his nose, mouth and chin. I grabbed his wet hair and began to grind my pussy against his face. I humped the crotch of my silk panties to a mind shattering orgasm before I removed them from his face. I removed the collar and spoke to him as if nothing had happened.

"You'd better go inside and put on something warm before you catch your death of cold."

"Yes dear; would you like me to wash your panties by hand for you?"

"Thank you, honey; but I have some others that need washed. I'll do them later myself. It's Sunday; go watch your football while I get dressed and make breakfast."

* * * * *

Chris was quiet as a mouse for the rest of the weekend. He sat on the floor and watched football while I puttered around the house, cleaning and doing the laundry. He asked me once if I'd like him to help, but I cheerfully told him that I was doing fine by myself. He also asked if I'd like him to do the grocery shopping, to which I again declined his offer. The box of lingerie and his laptop was still sitting on the coffee table. Monica had told me that along with the threat of taking it up the ass; he would live in fear of being humiliated in front of others.

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