Visiting Sherie & Rick Ch. 11

So looking back, week 3 wasn't quite what I expected. I had been making a lot of progress and Sherie had been giving me some fun encouragmenrs, but then sending me to Widow Johnson's was not only a surprise, it was kind of a turn in Sherie's demeanor. When I returned, apparently Sherie had beat the tar out of Rick, maybe just because she was mad at herself for letting me go eat the Widow instead of being intimate with me herself. I dunno. She seemed to turn a cold shoulder to me for some reason. No winks, no smiles, no attaboys. I couldn't seem to please her no matter how much progress I made.

Weds night she had introduced "maintenance" to my regimen. Thankfully not the power-maintenance dynamics version that she inflicts on Rick to ensure he knows it is she who wears the pants in the family, and omg, also the penis. So no, she did not at all try to break me in to that dark dominance, but still, she used my awareness of it to easily bargain me into a lesser bedtime maintenance.

And actually, this new element was really no hardship at all, so it wasn't a difficult bargaining session. Nor did I hate it. She simply offered me a lesser form of submission -- less than what she knew I knew about Rick's submission. And mine would be one that I had envisioned for years, jacking off to the thought of it more often than I'd care to admit. An over-her-knees spanking. Bare bottom. But with the constraints of modesty, not forcing me to show her my (chastised) penis. Rather, she said, just lay over her knees, her bare knees, and ask her for my spanking... please. And yes, I cried, but I would take it, even crying for her, every week for the rest of my life if she asked. But that is not to be. Instead, I apparently have now agreed to let Jen continue this weekly maintenance as a boost to her authority. Oh well, that could be fun too. And it beats the alternative that Rick endures.

And now here we are getting ready to start week 4, the final week. Yesterday, Sunday, she beat the fuck outta Rick's ass in front of me, not because he had been a bad boy, but instead as a form of threatening me.

"Harold, take good note, because next Sunday when Jen returns for you, either you will be well trained and in the best shape of your life as I promised her... or... this will be how I will show her how to deal with a bad boy. So... what's it going to be, Harold? A good hard-finish week of training? Or a lifetime of Sundays with Jen caning your fine ass? Which?"

"A good week, Sherie. I promise."

"i guess we'll see, won't we?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Ok, begin. And of course, Wednesday maintenance spanking will again be required. Not because I'm upset with you -- unless I really am -- but just because. So go. Go train as hard as you can this week. And here's the deal: If I am satisfied by Friday night that you'll meet Jen's expectations on Sunday, I will finally submit to that 'reward' you've been wanting all these years." And she gave me rather a resentful look, as if she wished she wouldn't have to finally pay off on her promise.

But... Oh shit yeah! So, whether she'd be a happy participant or not, I didn't care by this time. I was horny beyond horny, and I'd have fucked a plastic replica of Sherie! So with that send-off, I Iiterally

ripped off my shirt and headed out the door and up into the hills.

***

By Friday sundown, though, I was utterly exhausted. I had worked diligently, 14 hrs a day, with long runs, intermixed with interval training, daily throughout the week. And if my month of training had made my calves and thighs hard, my bedtime spanking Wednesday evening over Sherie's bare legs made my hopelessly caged dick even 'harder'.

I had been counting the moments til my Friday night release and reward. And I had come to the conclusion "to hell with what Rick thinks" -- especially now that I know what a pussy he has become. He deserves to have a real man fuck his wife. And fuck her i will, exhausted or not! I've earned it.

So at dusk as I returned down the ridge and fell into the grass exhausted. I hoped to rest a while before Sherie would call me in to dinner.

The screen-door made its easily identifiable sound as she stepped out onto the porch to call me in. But instead, her footsteps made their way down the steps. And suddenly she was standing astraddle me, glaring.

"I hope you don't have your hopes set too high for tonight, Harold. You know I couldn't do *that* to Rick.... or my best friend Jen. Right? In fact, you're pretty much a son-of-a-bitch for even thinking such lurid thoughts about me. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"But a promise is a promise, Sherie. You owe me. And Rick has become anything but a real man. He scarcely has any balls at all -- you've taken 'em. And admit it, you *need* a real man now. You know you do. And think of this as Jen's token payment of reward for getting her husband back in prime shape. So she also wins; and the reward is but a small price to pay, wouldn't you say? In fact, she might even get off if she were here tonight watching me fuck you like the stallion you deserve!"

"Even if you were capable of that -- which I very much doubt, if Jen has been telling me the truth -- your penis won't be trying that sort of thing unless my *key* says so. So be reasonable, Harold. You're not really in a strong bargaining position."

"Oh c'mon, Sherie. That's not fair. You said..."

"And now I say differently! So roll over, face down. I have a solution to propose."

I did her bidding, wondering what she'll offer.

She knelt down beside me and started massaging my aching muscles. I flinched, but darkness was setting in and apparently she wasn't worried about what Rick might think if he looked out the kitchen window.

"Don't worry about him right now. I know what you're thinking. Don't worry. I took care of him Wednesday night after I took care of you. Didn't you hear us?"

"How could I not?", I retorted.

It was embarrassing. I had just been given a humiliating paddling with her long-handled bathbrush, making me wale loud and long. Rick would know she was dominating me (almost) as much as she would dominate him. She was setting him up for the bad news she would eventually have to tell him this weekend about us and our coming indiscretions. When she had finished with me, she left me bawling, and marched up the stairs to where Rick had been told to wait.

How could I not hear him getting the same walloping, presumably naked across their bed. But in his case, it came with a lecture between strokes.

"Did you hear us, Rick? Did you hear Harold getting a spanking as you get each week? And what did you think, Ricky-Poo? That he must be a weenie like you are? Well that isn't it at all, Ricky-Shit. He's a real man, and was only being spanked because of it. He has not only been training like crazy to build muscle and tone, but also hoping to attract my affections. Even hoping to fuck me Friday night! That's right, Ricky-Small-Dickey; fucking your wife. Your freckledy little red-head. And he's been making suggestive comments about how he's going to do it. Wanna know how he says he's going to fuck me Rick? Well? Answer me."

I couldn't hear him if he answered, but my own tears dried up, as I listened carefully, hoping to now hear her rendition -- a complete lie -- of how I would supposedly fuck her. Likely a foretaste of exactly how she would WANT me to fuck her.

"Well if you're not interested in hearing it, Ricky-Dickey, I guess I'll just have to show you. See this? This is a cock, Rick. It's Harold's cock. Let me strap it on and I'll demonstrate what he said he's planning to do to me this weekend. Whaddaya say, boy? And then you tell me if I'm going to like it! Ready?"

..

But now back to my Friday reality, Sherie continues massaging my back... her hands feel so great on my very tired muscles. She runs them all over me, down my sweaty legs, removing my shoes, then up my body again. Her grip on my heart was stronger even than the grip on my ankles as she removed first one sock, then the other. She made a point of spreading my ankles, wider and wider, then smacking them lightly, so much as to say: Stay!

She traced higher up my torso now, restoring my poor aching muscles, now moving my arms upwards in the grass over my head, almost as if reaching, pleading for the porch to come save me. She pulled my wrists together and crossed them, again with the light smack. I was hers. I would agree to anything she offers me now.

She slipped her hand into the back of my running shorts... Oh my! Ms. Modesty is now feeling me up. Oh wait! No. Not now!

Too late. She now feels the panties. That's right. They had felt so sexy that day. And then later the next day as I ran, thinking of Prudence and being with her.

"What the...? Harold, WHAT are these? Oh now you really are in trouble, Mister. You're really in no position to bargain at all, now are you? Don't answer that. No talking. You just stay absolutely still..."

Her hand moved under the waistband of the panties now, rubbing my tight butt cheeks.

"Relax, Harold. Don't clench. Just go with it. This may be the only reward you get."

She leaned down now to whisper in my ear as she traced a finger toward my tight hole.

"Is this what you think you heard me do to Ricky? Tell me."

"Yes, Sherie. Sort of."

"Well then, oblige me, Harold. I do love a man's fine ass. Play it out with me, as you think you heard me do with Rick. If you stay still and play along (and nice!), maybe I will let you out tomorrow night. I might even let do what you most want to do. Yes, if you're good for me now, maybe I'll even let you out to... you know... go all the way with me... tomorrow night. Isn't that what you've hoped for all these years? Or have you only just hoped & dreamed of seeing me braless, or even shirtless, bare breasts exposed to you? You know they're small, don't you? Have you imagined what they look like? Well play your cards right, Harold, and who knows, I might even let you feel them up against you tonight if you're lucky, hugging your backside; would you like that, Harold?"

She nibbles my ear as she massaged me just short of my butthole target, like she was zeroing in on it before jamming something in the bullseye. But then suddenly, she instead reached under me to pinch my nipples!

"Do you like that? A woman playing with your nipples, Harold? Tell me. In fact, let's get to know each other a lot better before we give way to our lusts. After all, it wouldn't be right to do 'that' if we haven't even really taken the time to get to know other at a deeper level..."

"...So tell me something about yourself, Harold, something you haven't even really admitted out-loud to anyone in the whole world. A secret we could share from here on. Something that only I would know. And make it good; something juicy. Have you ever gone over to play for the other team, Harold? Even once? Tell me, have you?"

"No way!"

"Well, how about... Would you like to have a woman, say like me, who's in control of you? A woman who could twist your nipples right off if you misbehave?"

"Oww!"

"Then behave, boy. Now... don't you think it would be absurd to jump right into sex, you know, between two people who don't even yet really know each other well, or who've not even seen the other's genitalia? Or even seen the woman's bare breasts, much less know how to please her? Don't you think you ought to at least get to know her passions, her desires, kinks & fantasies? Well, Harold?"

"Yes Sherie. Please. Do all that."

"So you didn't answer my first question yet, Harold. Do you fantasize about a woman as your equal? Someone with whom you can share sexual control from time to time? Or maybe even all the time? I mean, some men always want to be in control. So don't you want a world where an equal number of women would be the controllers in their marriages? Wouldn't you think that some women are worthy of being the one to lead the marriage? I do. Don't you, Harold?"

"Yes Sherie."

"I'm so glad you agree, Harold. I had to teach Rick that. He thought he should be able to come home after work each night and just strip my clothes off and fuck me right there in the living room, wham bam thank you ma'am. And leave me high and dry. Well, not really dry. You know. Leave me wet and nasty down there. What do you think about that, Harold? Was that right? To leave me all nasty like that?"

"Er, uh, no, I suppose not."

"Exactly. So I've had to help him know how a woman feels. She needs to know she's loved. And feels clean. And re-purified. And that her husband would want that for her too, don't you think, Harold? I'll bet you want Jen to feel clean and pure again after you've taken her, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Ok, so is it too much to expect her man to clean her up and restore her purity once again?"

"What? Like...?"

"Sure. Exactly. Go down on her. Let her know your cum is no worse for you than it is for her. Would you like a woman to swallow your emissions, Harold? You would, right? So why shouldn't a man swallow his own, too, from time to time. Actually, why not every time he pumps it into her? Right, Harold? So yeah, I had to teach Rick to purify me if he ever wanted sex with me again. It took a while for him to warm up to the idea, but horniness over a week or two of chastity can clear a man's thinking, right?"

"It does have that effect."

"So how's your thinking on the topic these days, Harold? Would you do that if my place down there was all wet and yucky? Would you, Harold? I need you to explain your view about that before you & I can go any further."

It took me a minute to process what she's bargaining toward.

"Owwwww!!" (Her twist of my nipple works magic at speeding my thinking.)

"So answer me, Harold. It's a simple question. Would you clean me up, purifying me once again, yes or no?"

"Yes, Sherie."

"I knew it! And that's what I told Rick -- that I bet you cleaned up Jen every night after fucking her. He said no man would do that voluntarily. But I knew all along he was wrong, Harold. And I regularly told him so. Every time I made him go down, I told him how you would have gladly got down there and purified my vagina again. And voluntarily, unlike Ricky. I always have to force his head down into me, to get all the deepest parts. But now I know I was right -- you would gladly get down in there without me even having to remind you, isn't that right, Harold? I used to fantasize about that. Once or twice I even called Rick by your name as he licked me out. How embarrassing."

By this time I was so crazily 'hard' (not hard, just painfully pressing my penis against the steel bars as if to break through... somehow.

"Sherie, then maybe you could see your way clear to let me up and release me? You know, so we could have some fun and get you some womanly relief?"

"That sounds delightful, that is, the womanly relief part, as you call it. But I'm kind of concerned about these panties, Harold. That's a total surprise to me. I wouldn't have thought you would have gone for wearing them further, even if she sent you home in them. I mean, Rick always ends up in them for her - that's pretty much a given. She has a real fetish for dressing him up in her long dresses, then paddling him good! But he's always anxious to get out of them when he gets home. And especially when I chide him and ask him to also wear my little bra. He always refuses, but I'm still hoping someday he'll want to please me enough to do that. I'd love to have a man so secure in himself that he could act the part for me someday. But then, who's man enough for that? Not many men, I'm sure. But someday I hope to meet one. I'd probably give myself to him right on the spot, in an alley or in a ladies dressing room or wherever. I'd love to be fucked by a strong man like that. Panties, bra. Even lipstick would drive me to the edge of a cliff! So if you ever reach that point in your life, Harold, just drive on over, strip down to your feminine underwear and take me, right on the spot, and fuck the shit outta me. I would love to see that and experience it just one time in my life!"

"Uh, not, not anytime soon. But could you release me now, Sherie. I've been good, right?"

"No Harold, you stay put right there. You're wearing panties for the fun of it and that's kind of weird for a guy. We need to get you some therapy. And not tomorrow. And not some stern woman psychologist who would exploit you. Instead, just stay locked and let me talk you out of those panties right now. You do want out of them, don't you, Harold? You don't want to be a fag, do you? You told me you aren't a fag, so now it's time to prove it, Harold."

"Yes ma'am. I'll take them right off if you let me up."

"No, Harold, it shouldn't be as simple as that - that would only be reactionary. You need to really WANT to not be wearing a woman's panties. So we need to take our time, and ensure you don't just go right back to 'em tomorrow. You need to kick the habit. Get em outta your system. Don't you agree, Harold? And then maybe tomorrow you can go back to being a man. And you know -- what we talked about. That."

"Yes, Sherie."

"Ok, hold still. I need to continue. And each time I press your button, pushing in there, you know, under your panties, you need to repeat: 'I'm not a fag, Sherie.' Ok?"

"Isn't there a different way?"

"No! Unless of course you'd like a barn-whipping first, hahaha, you know, to limber up some cooperation."

"No Sherie. That won't be necessary."

"Ok, Harold. Here we go. Are you a fag, Harold?" And she pressed into me with her fingertip.

"Ooooo. I'm not a fag, Sherie."

"Then why are you wearing panties and a chastie?" She withdrew, and went back in a little deeper; perhaps to her first knuckle. And stayed there, awaiting my response.

"I'm not a fag, Sherie. I'm not!"

"Well panties are for fags, Harold. No real man, full of confidence, ready to fuck a woman like she needs to be fucked... would ever ne caught in panties, Harold". And she withdrew only long enough to go back in to another knuckle."

"I'm not a fag, Sherie. I would fuck you like that to prove it right now, if you'd let me. "

She again pulled out and this time jammed it in all the way, taking away my breath. And held it firmly there, while pulling the panties off.

"I'm not a fag, Sherie. Honest I'm not."

"I believe you now Harold. But I'll have to take these to ensure you don't relapse. And you need to show me you're serious. And she slowly withdrew her finger and put it to my lips. "How serious are you, Harold?"

Serious enough that I cleaned her finger thoroughly.

"Good boy. And good night. And don't worry. I'll take these upstairs and put them to good use with Rick. Or maybe I'll just sleep with them under my pillow and dream of you and how things might go tomorrow night. Maybe they'll help me finally know just how much Rick is willing to show he loves me. Whaddaya think, will he do whatever I ask?"

But before I could conjure up a right answer to that...

"And what about you, Harold? Can you hold out one more night in chastity, Harold? And what would you do for me tomorrow night? More than Rick? I'm counting on it. And I promise you I'll make it worth your while if you do."

"Just promise me to try your best to be my man tomorrow, Harold. Don't embarrass me in front of Rick. I've built you up to him all these years, and keeping him wrapped around my little finger, pleasing me in whatever way I ask. And he does it. Even including purifying my 'place' down there any time I let him shoot his load there. And why? Because I told him you do it for Jen. And the same goes for his weekly Wednesday night act of submission, reminding him who wears the pants in our marriage. Why? Because he doesn't want me to stray next door to try to find a man who'll cater to my quirky personality."