My Husband Asked Me to Take Charge Ch. 02

My Husband Asked Me to Take Charge Ch. 02

By Cynthia Blaine

[This story involves bodily functions as well as some serious discipline. If these subjects bother or offend you, please read no further. All characters are over 18.]

I could tell that Andrew was going to lose it. My best friends had come by for one of our evening get-togethers over coffee or cake, with a few hands of bridge to follow. They had never seen Andrew in one of his "home" outfits. I knew that giving him something to fret about was good therapy and served to keep him in line.

Tonight, he was dressed in separates--a cute beige sleeveless top and rich brown pleated skirt with sheer thigh-his and very low tan heels. By now, my taking control as he had wanted was complete. He was doing what I wanted him to do: designated household duties to perform, beyond the usual male task of emptying the garbage, including tidying up the house, making the beds, cooking dinner--a task I shared with him--and, most humbling, washing my undies by hand for me.

My four good friends arrived almost at the same time. Andrew was with me at the door and offered to take their coats.

When he took the coats and walked off to with them to hang them in the hall closet, Carol looked at me quizzically, and asked, "Is this something new?"

Marge and Alice looked similarly struck with surprise.

"He has asked me to take charge of him," I said plainly. "And so I have."

Then our last guest, Sylvia, rang the bell and Andrew hurried back to ask her for her coat. She did a double-take, clearly wondering what had happened to Andrew.

I explained to her as I had to the other three.

We seated ourselves in the living room and Andrew came in to ask what they wanted to drink. They all were still amazed, so asked for things like tea or iced tea.

Sylvia grinned at him and asked me in front of him, "I suppose you have had to punish him, so he gets to know his place?"

Andrew grimaced and then Carol started suggesting that they might well see about bringing all of their husbands under strict control like Andrew obviously was. She smiled as she posed the direct question to him: "So tell us, Andrew, do you like being spanked by your wife?"

"It's ok so long as I don't get my face rubbed in it too much," he blurted out as his rising annoyance bubbled over.

"Andrew, that remark was uncalled for," I sternly glared at him. "You obviously need to be corrected. Right now."

"I'm sorry, Miss Ellen," he pleaded like a small boy. "I didn't mean that, and I apologize to you and to Miss Carol, and to all of you for my naughty outburst."

Carol in particular now had a face as red as her lovely flaming hair and observed, "You clearly have accomplished quite a lot in a short time, Ellen dear."

I was not about to ignore Andrew's offense. "Get over to your corner, Andrew," I snapped, "and prepare for your punishment. I want that skirt unzipped and removed and you can get your nose right up into the corner." I was having him remove the skirt because it was tight, even on his slim frame, and he would not be able to lift it up to expose his panties.

The girls were quiet as they watched Andrew move right to where he had been ordered to go.

As he unzipped and slipped his skirt down and off, disclosing his sheer white panties, Alice, whose sandy blond bangs and pretty ponytail were shaking, couldn't contain her amazement: "Oh, Ellen, you have him in panties! Does he wear them all the time?"

"Yes, sweetie," I answered calmly, "since it wouldn't make much sense for him not to wear appropriate undies under his skirt, shorts, or dress."

They continued to ask me for details about my dominance as Andrew grew more and more upset facing the corner, where he could hear the conversation but was deprived of seeing the ladies.

I told them about my rules, including my requirement that he receive permission to use the toilet, and there were both gasps of amazement and delight.

"Remember, Andrew asked for this," I reminded my friends. "And I suspect that all of this talk has aroused him. I'll have to inspect his panties before he is corrected."

I walked over to him and whispered in his ear, out of my friends' hearing, "You'd better not give me any more trouble, or I may let them spank you." Then I put my thumbs in the waistband of his panties and pulled them to his knees. I gazed into the panties and saw the telltale threads of his cum in the front as his excitement had grown during this ordeal.

"He will be punished for soiling his panties while hearing our conversation," I announced to the group. Then I discovered that there were also some yellow pee stains and a thin brown skid mark visible in the panty crotch.

"Not only did he spurt some cum, so you can see how this all aroused him, but I'm sorry to report that he has not wiped himself properly in the bathroom," I went on.

"Follow me, naughty boy," I ordered. He shamefacedly walked behind me, panties at his knees, as I sat on an armless chair. I pointed to my lap, and he bent and lay across my grey skirt, on which I had placed a white towel.

I now began spanking Andrew, gradually increasing the tempo and intensity of the spanks. He managed to avoid making any more reaction than low groans but as his bottom cheeks reddened, he began to cry at each powerful stroke. That was the signal, I felt, that it was time for my hairbrush.

The hairbrush was in my pocketbook, into which I reached to extract it. There were a few gasps of surprise when the ladies saw it emerge. Then I started applying it to Andrew's now clearly sore bottom. He couldn't help almost involuntarily making soft screams, probably of shame as much as pain.

Marge was staring directly at his bottom during the entire spanking and asked me in a coy sort of way, "Ellen, I suppose this makes him hard?"

I stopped spanking and had Andrew stand up. He displayed a full erection; then I showed her the white towel, which had several wet stains from his loss of control.

"As you can see, Margie," I said lightly, "he not only gets erections from being corrected but he continues to spurt his cum." Although I was sure Marge wanted to ask me more, especially about how my taking charge manifested itself in our bedroom, she desisted, and I had no intention to volunteer details or even discuss my private sex life.

I had adjusted quite nicely to being in charge of our household. After all, it was only what Andrew had asked me to do. It turned out that he had never quite gotten over a time--actually, a year--when he was a teenager and his mother put his older sister in charge of him.

It wasn't something I had gone looking for, but as it developed, I found it gave me a nice toasty feeling, particularly "down there" where I tended to get wet just thinking of how much things had changed.

I had put him in panties. That is, I picked out a pair of panties for him to wear every day under his male clothing. This meant he needed to wait for a stall in the men's room and of course to sit down when he peed. If he misbehaved, he knew he could be spanked or caned, and subjected to numerous other light and not-so-light embarrassments and humiliations.

But now that his spanking was over, I told Andrew to pull up his panties, put his skirt back on, and proceed to prepare and serve the coffee and cake for us.

He obviously was now glad that I had not extended his punishment, although he knew that it might resume after my guests departed--or even before then if he misbehaved again.

When Andrew reappeared in our living room, he had donned a pretty light blue apron and carefully put down a large play holding cups of coffee, little plates, silverware, and cloth napkins, and a nice cheesecake which he had cut into slices.

Quite respectfully, he asked each of my friends what they wanted in their coffee. Then he added milk or sugar, or more often, Splenda, and offered each a piece of the cake and the necessary utensils.

After he had served all of us, performing quite nicely and making me pleased with his behavior, I suddenly had the thought that I had better not ease up because of his good conduct. Andrew did not respond well to praise, I had found, and tended to take liberties if indulged.

Sure enough, after finishing, he walked over to me, and quietly said, "I need to go to the bathroom now, Miss Ellen." I was annoyed that he had not taken care of his need before my guests arrived.

"You'll have to wait, Andrew," I said crisply. "It's not convenient now for you to take care of what you should have attended to earlier."

His face fell and I realized that he was in terror of losing control in front of the four women. Wisely, he did not persist in asking for immediate permission. I told him to kneel in the corner, facing away from us.

He did what he was told, clearly taken by surprise at my imposing this added show of my total control of his life. Meanwhile, I returned to conversing with my friends. They did seem fascinated by my apparent success in taking charge of my husband and wanted to discuss whether it was something they wanted to do or could even contemplate.

Sylvia seemed nonplussed by the general admiration I was basking in. Her husband, Tony, was a large, forceful man who was wont to talk loudly, belch, and even fart

"I'd very much like to discuss my home situation with you sometime soon, Ellen," she said in a serious tone. "You all know that I've had problems with the way my husband behaves, especially when others are present. I admire what you have accomplished, dear Ellen, and hope you can help me with some ideas."

I told her I'd be happy to speak with her as soon as we both had time. I did add that it had been important that Andrew had wanted me to take charge. I went so far as to ask her if she felt her husband would be at all receptive or willing to accept her doing what I had done.

She clearly had thought about this since arriving. After a moment's hesitation, or perhaps, a quick considering of how the others would react, she responded, "I've had about enough of his uncouthness, Ellen. And I have a feeling he has offended all of you with his coarse behavior," she said slowly and with emphasis. "I've decided that this will happen, or else, he's going to have to deal with a much greater challenge from me. I've been smoothing things over for him for far too long."

I now merely reiterated that I'd be pleased to spend some time with her, and then wanted to lighten the atmosphere, asking everyone whether they were ready for some cards.

"Can we play some canasta, for a change?" Marge asked hopefully.

I looked around and saw mostly smiles so I grinned and answered softly, "Sure, Marge, let's enjoy a few hands and then I'd like some hearts. We'll save the bridge game for next time." There were general sounds of agreement and even pleasure. It made me understand that not everyone was either into the more demanding concentration required to play bridge half decently. Some probably didn't like it at all but went along for fear of being left out. It was also hard to play if there weren't four at the table.

We sat down at the card table, as I saw Andrew was struggling in the corner. He was moving around on his knees, indicating to me that he really did need to pee. Suddenly, I heard him cry out and I knew instantly that he had peed his panties.

I stood and walked over to him. I quietly told him to stand, and he faced me covering his front below his waist.

"Did you lose control?" I asked, loud enough for all to hear.

"Yes," he whispered, and was obviously very upset and totally embarrassed.

"Was it just pee?" I followed up.

"No," he answered slowly, realizing the humiliation he was now enduring.

"You'd better come with me then," I said coolly. Then I turned to the ladies.

"You'll have to excuse me for a few minutes while I take care of this little situation," I announced, and led Andrew out of the room, holding his hand.

When we reached our bathroom, which was accessible only through our bedroom, I had Andrew stand facing me and I carefully unzipped his skirt and had him step out of it. I saw that his panties were soaked and dripping. Then I told him to turn around and I saw a bulge in the panty crotch through which a large brown deposit was visible.

"I'm sorry, Ellen," he pleaded. "I really tried to hold it in."

"You have embarrassed me in front of my friends," I said sternly to him. "And you know that this means you need correction, which I will spare you from receiving until the guests leave."

He thanked me profusely as I had him carefully step out of the now-heavy panties.

"Take this very carefully--don't spill any--and empty them into the toilet," I now ordered. "Then take off your top, hose, and shoes. I want you to shower off but do it quickly. This has messed up my evening for long enough as it is."

He flinched but did what he was told to do. I watched as he emptied the poo into the bowl. There was some left in his ass crack, and I figured he might as well get into the shower and wash himself up. I could have him clean the shower after they left if needed.

When he emerged from the shower, I told him to get up and lie on his back on the changing table I had installed in the bathroom.

"Oh, no, Ellen," he cried, "you're not going to diaper me?! Please, no!"

"I'm surprised you need to ask," I snapped, "after that accident in the living room. You are losing your panty privileges for a while. Now, get up there! Don't make me tell you again!"

My vehemence, which I was annoyed with myself for showing, had shaken him and he rushed to get up on the table.

I had him humiliatingly spread his legs and then powdered his genitals and his ass crack. Then I had him lift his bottom and I slipped a large adult-sized diaper, sold as an incontinence pant, under him. It did have tapes just like a child's diaper, as I had foregone buying the pull-up kind of incontinence pants men and women with that problem would usually purchase. These looked and were just like a diaper.

I saw that his skirt had been soiled, fortunately just with his pee, and put it aside to be sent for cleaning. Then I told him to pick out another skirt, adding that I wanted it to be shorter.

He left and quickly returned with a pleasant green skirt, with a hem well above his knees. He had gone ahead and put pantyhose on.

I looked him over and warned him, "You know that I expect you to behave in a ladylike manner, so you had better make sure that you don't flash your panties."

Andrew's face reddened and he resigned himself to paying constant attention to pulling the hem of his skirt down, so he didn't show everyone his pink undies.

We returned to the living room and Sylvia went out of her way to compliment Andrew on his pretty skirt. He knew enough to thank her without showing any resentment or annoyance.

I invited everyone to the card table, and we played a few hands of canasta, which was actually a relief, because I didn't have to do a lot of thinking, as I would have had to concentrate while playing bridge.

Then I smiled and said it was time for a party game. I went out to the kitchen and explained to Andrew that he was going to get under the table and proceed to sniff each of my friends' crotches so he could identify the woman whom he was sniffing.

Andrew didn't register his anger at this humiliating assignment. I told him I would call him in when we were ready.

Then I explained to the women what I had in mind. "Andrew will be blindfolded," I said, "and he will crawl between your legs in turn to try to decide whose crotch he is sniffing. I will give you a minute to decide if you want to keep your panties on under your skirt or if you want to be more daring and remove them. As an extra bit of pleasure, I hope, I will instruct him to kiss you down there if you have taken your panties off."

There were giggles and a few murmurs. "As long as he keeps the blindfold on," Alice piped up, "I'm game." The others all nodded their agreement. That was enough for me to go retrieve my husband from the kitchen.

"I know this is embarrassing for you, honey," I said brightly, "but you ay have a bit of fun. When you move between each of my friend's spread legs, you will find she has taken off her panties. This will give you a more revealing sniff, and I've told them that you will kiss each of them down there."

Andrew was surprised but must have decided that this wasn't that awful. But he did ask, "If I get them right will there be a reward, or if I don't, I hope you won't punish me."

"I will decide on that depending on how you behave under the table and afterward," I responded, "so watch your manners. I'm giving you a chance to sniff four pussies, so don't abuse it. Absolutely no licking."

I put a large black blindfold over Andrew's eyes and secured it behind his head so that it wouldn't move during his exercise. Then I led him into the living room, and he knelt and then crawled under the table. The first woman on his right was Marge, and he moved between her legs. He sniffed at her shaved pussy and then softly kissed her on her labia. Marge had a huge smile on her face but did not make a sound.

Next was Carol, who was a large woman, so I figured Andrew would manage to guess her identity since her thighs would feel massive. He moved between them and again sniffed her prominent bush and moved through it to kiss her on her pussy lips.

He moved on to Sylvia, who was a bit older than the rest of us; I thought her cunt might give off a stronger odor. Andrew apparently kissed her quickly and moved on to Alice. He apparently sniffed her between her legs and then as he was in there kissing her shaved slit, I heard her let out a tiny squeal.

Andrew moved back and came out from under the table. I took off his blindfold and he blinked a few times. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

"You can now tell us in order who you smelled and kissed, dear," I told him, trying to be as unthreatening as I could.

Andrew took a moment to prepare his answer: "The second lady was Carol and the last one was Alice," he began and looked straight at Alice and grinned. "I think the third was Sylvia," he said, smiling at her, and that means the first had to have been Marge."

"You are absolutely right, Andrew," I congratulated him. "Now go brush your teeth and after that, you can stay in the kitchen until you are called."

Andrew hastily departed, glad that he not only had correctly identified my friends by the smell of their pussies, but that he could get a moment's relief since I whispered to him as he walked out that he was now permitted to use the toilet.

"That's part of your reward," I grinned at him. He somehow managed to smile in return and walked on.

When I came back, Marge said that she was amazed that he had guessed who each of them was that he was sniffing and kissing.

I didn't tell them how I figured out who at least two of them were: he obviously sensed Carol's larger-sized thighs and Sylvia's looser thighs as she was older than the rest of us.

Then Alice let out a little giggle and said she had something she needed to tell us.

"I'm sorry that some of you may feel this is TMI, but I'm also very embarrassed. I actually need to be excused for a moment but before I go, please understand that I had gotten very tense as he was going between all of your legs before reaching me," she said nervously. "I guess I was so nervous--as I am now--that I must have released a tiny bit of pee when he kissed me down there."

Her face had become flushed, and I went over and gave her a hug.

"Alice, it could happen to any of us," I speedily responded to her admission that now had her beginning to shed tears.

"Now, now," Sylvia stood and also gave Alice a hug. "It's happened to me more times than I want to remember. Don't let yourself fret at all, sweetie. If there's any people who understand, it's us."