Will Power Management

It had been four years since I had quit smoking; I had forgotten what it was like to as much as want a cigarette. My wife was so proud of me and was always telling me just how proud she was of me for stopping the one habit she still struggled with everyday. I had made her a promise that I was NOT going to be one of those ex-smokers who was always on the case of those who smoked, and that I would not push her to quit, but would be very supportive of her attempt when she was ready. She always knew the day would come when she too would decide to quit.

About a month ago, I had had an odd desire to smoke a cigarette while I was spending time with her outside while she smoked. We had decided that we would not smoke in our new house when we bought it almost six years ago, and when we were both smoking, we would spend time together out on the back patio while we smoked, talking about our day at work, discuss the plans for the next day, etc... . I missed the time we had shared together when we would go out to smoke. I guess I had just been missing her attention lately; she was dealing with all kinds of family situations that required a lot of her time, energy and attention. I was supportive of her, and helped as often as I could, but when it came to dealing with her parents and doing for them, everyone involved was just more comfortable with her doing whatever it was that was needed. It was not as though I was not willing to be of more help, just they were more comfortable with her, and I understood that.

When that desire struck me, I was appalled at the thought. I had not been too good at keeping my promise of being a "good" ex-smoker. I was always trying to "support" her into quitting, and was always full of advice on how to quit. I did not like the smell of cigarette smoke at all, and on occasion, let her know the smoke was bothering me if we were in a cramped situation without plenty of ventilation. I tried not to be too bad, but I did not keep my promise the way I had portrayed it to her when I quit.
At first, I resisted the desire, but over about a month or so, I was beginning to wear down. I missed my wife; we were going through some stressful times in our lives and I was barely able to see her any more, finally I caved in to the desire to have that first cigarette. I thought I was going to die when I lit that foul thing and drew in the first drag. I nearly chocked to death, and coughed so hard I just knew there would be blood on the ground. I had a couple of drags and put it out, but that little bit of nicotine was enough to get into my system and begin a slow process of building a dreadful desire.

I had stolen one of her cigarettes and was so worried she would notice, that I had become paranoid, like days of old when we had both smoked more than cigarettes. I was also, very buzzed, which seemed to always make me very hot and horny for my wife. I always liked to have sex with her while we were feeling the effects of whatever buzz we had gotten on. I was not that we had to have a buzz to fuck, or have sex, but it was always a special experience to have sex with a buzz going.

It was a few more days until the desire returned, and again I resisted, just not as long this time, and before I knew it I was smoking another one of her cigarettes and getting totally buzzed and horny. We were having great sex even through all the troubles and stresses, but I was getting those orgasms again, like when we used to party and "play" so much, and I was noticing the desire to smoke was coming back sooner and sooner. I know it was the nicotine, but I was trying to play it off on the buzz and the feelings of excitement I would have, knowing that if she were to catch me smoking, she would just flip out.

We had begun our marriage in a BDSM type relationship. I was the Dom, she was the sub, (if you call topping from the bottom being a sub), and for the most part we enjoyed the lifestyle 24/7. Of course, we were in love too, so a true hard-core BDSM relationship 27/7 was not what you would describe ours as. We loved to "play" and go to the "play parties", but in everyday life, I could not bring myself to really be too hard on her or do things she was not to sure about. Not that too much was out of bounds, so we were like any other couple in the world, we had our kinks and we enjoyed them to the fullest, and we always got compliments on our public "play" when we went to parties, but we were not what I would consider a hard-core BDSM couple. However, when I decided I was ready to have sex, have my cock sucked, tie her to the bed and spank, paddle, or cane her ass, it was on, and we always had a good time, great sex and our relationship grew stronger all the while.

Throughout the relationship, from time to time, I was inclined to play the role of switch, and allow her to top me. I was not any better than she was at subbing though, so I too seemed to top from the bottom. She really seemed to enjoy the act of exacting revenge for her last episode of being degraded, humiliated or the painful/pleasurable experience of being whipped, spanked, tortured and fucked with little or no regard for her desires and needs. Later I was to find out that she did not really enjoy being on top as much as I had thought.

As time moved along, and we got busier and busier, and as we got a little older and not as able to handle the 4-8 hour marathons of sex, play etc..., and still be effective at work, we kind of slowed down on our "play" times to the point we pretty much stopped "playing" all together. Sex was just as good and usually even better when we did not spend the time with the other activities. Occasionally, the old desires came to the surface and we would "play" again, but not for as long, and not with as many props and devices.

All that changed a few weekends ago though and not to the better for my part, or was it? I had gotten to point I was stealing one of her cigarettes every night after she would go to bed. I would let her get to sleep and then slip out the back and smoke my one lone cigarette. I was determined not to let them get a stronger hold on me again and was doing well for a while, then I smoked one while she was out one day, then another day. I was smoking about three to four a day and was beginning to feel very guilty and worried she would catch me and just go off.

I was trying to keep it to a minimum so she would not get suspicious of her cigarettes disappearing faster than normal. I was making sure I did not leave the butts in an ashtray recently emptied. I did not grab one of the last two or three in a pack, just in case she was counting them and I always tried to make sure I had time to smoke without her walking out onto the patio and catching me red handed with one in my hand or mouth. I was being very sneaky about it and thought I had it all under control.

One day, she had gone to the store and was going to see her mother for a bit. She was going to be gone for awhile so later when the desire for a cigarette hit me, I went to get one I had put away for just such a time as this, went out back and lit up with no worries of being caught. It was the weekend I was in the process of smoking some meat out on the smoker and was paying attention to the temperature of the smoker, checking my meat and stoking the fire, when I became suddenly very aware of the felling of being watched. I tossed the cigarette into the firebox on the smoker and turned around to see my wife giving me a look I knew was not good. I am not sure how long she had been standing there, but apparently, it had been long enough to watch me with that cigarette and know that I had tried to hide the fact from her.

The eruption was enormous. I was taken back by her temper and ignorant of what was to become of me in the next few minutes. She stormed out onto the patio with steam coming out of her ears. She said she had been suspicious of this for about a week, but just thought that she was imagining things, that she must have just been smoking more than she realized with all the stress in our lives at the time. She said she had even set traps to catch me if I was smoking, and that she had satisfied herself that I was not, and now this.

She took off back inside and I followed to try to smooth this thing out and let her know that I had already decided to quit again come Monday morning. I was trying everything I could think of to try to return to the peace of just a few stressful events that were plaguing us up to that point, but she would have none of that. She said she was not going to tolerate this and that she was going to help me manage my willpower and that yes I was going to quit again, but not Monday, right now.

She spoke in such a forceful manner that I simply found myself agreeing with her, thankful that she was willing to help me out with this thing and get me back on the road to at least another four years of not smoking. I had no idea what she was referring to though, and was socked to hear how she planned to help me quit.

She went immediately into her FemDom mode, eyes, voice and all, and began telling me what she was going to do to spur me along and get me back on track. She ordered me to strip right there in the kitchen and hand over my clothes. When I did, she informed me that I would not be needing them any more this weekend and that for the remainder of this weekend I was to remain totally naked and at her disposal for whatever she deemed appropriate at any given moment, without question or she would make things even worse for me.

She led to the bedroom closet where we stored all of our "play" equipment, and placed me into wrist cuffs secured behind my back. Next, a collar put on me that was a bit tight for me, but she said I would just have to deal with it and get used to it. A small chain ran from the cuffs to my collar and my arms pulled up behind me and secured to the collar through the "D" rings on it. Now I was totally at the mercy of her whims and desires. Oh, I guess I could have run or gotten away, but nude and in such a predicament, where was I going to go? The neighbors would have called the Police had I gotten outside, and I could not call anyone to have them come give me a hand.

Directed to the bed and laid over the foot of it with my ass stuck up in the air for all who could to see, she began to explain the next few hours to me and I have to admit I was getting a little worried at the things she was saying. A severe punishment spanking of paddles, crops, her hand, whips of all sizes, canes of all sizes and anything else she could think of to spank my ass with until assured to be too sore to sit on it for several days. To reiterate the point, she reminded me of the times when we had "played" and had talked about the type of spanking that was very hot to fantasize about, but not practical in practice since neither of us was up to a spanking without safe words or bounds.

She disappeared into the closet again and returned with a hand full of various implements of pain. There were those dreaded clover clamps we had grown to love/hate, several canes, paddles, two whips, one flogger type the other a short single tail, a belt and a large butt plug, which I had as yet been able to receive into my ass all the way. It was just too big for my tight little ass to accommodate. She had tried to get it into me a few times in the past but I just could not take it. She had always told me that if she were to spend enough time with it she would be able to get it in so it would stay with the muscles of my ass getting past the largest portion and around the neck of the smaller section designed to allow them to hold it. She also had a longer version of a butt plug that was not as big around but about eight inches long with a knob at the end that would be tough to get in but would make it stay in, in the same manner as the other one.

She laid all these things on the bed in front of me, to allow me to stare at them and contemplate their use, while she returned to the closet once more. This time she returned with the restraint system I had come up with to use on our bed, which would render the "victim" totally helpless, and at the complete mercy of the one securing them. I was getting a bit scared now, knowing I was in for a long weekend.

She began by securing my ankles to the foot of the bed in such a manner that I was spread wide and unable to move away from the bed at all. Next, she raised my chest up off the bed and placed a specific pillow we had used for this exact purpose, under my waist and belly. When I was bent over, it would give her full access to my cock and balls as well as prop my ass up to receive the whipping, spanking and butt plugging/fucking which was to come. She then got up on the bed in front of me and sneered at me as she reached back and got the clamps. I knew all to well what was next and braced myself for the bite of those brutal clamps on my nipples. Once placed exactly as she wanted them, she slid off the bed and went around behind me to push me back down onto the bed and over the pillow, landing me squarely on the clamps, the pain was immediate and intense, but I knew we were just getting started.

After some other preparation, my leather wrist cuffs were attached to the restraint system and one at a time my arms were spread to the sides of the bed and secured so I would not be able to raise myself up off of the clamps and their stinging bite. Once fully secured and she was fully satisfied there was no chance of me getting free, I was informed of the events which were about to take place and the exact conditions to which I must agree.

"Mistress" was going to be punishing me to her hearts content. Not allowed a safe word without consequences, once I used my safe word things just changed to a different form of punishment. It would not stop until she was satisfied of my resolve to stop smoking for the last time, at this point I had little choice but to agree and hope I was man enough to endure what lie ahead.

Mistress intended to paddle, whip, cane, and spank my ass with each implement she had brought to the bed. Since this was to be a punishment spanking, there would be no warm up with lighter strokes and easier implements first. She was going to punish my ass for as long as she wanted and as hard as she wanted and there was nothing I could do about it but take it like a man, or not, but take it I would. Either way she was going to punish my ass, as well as all the other plans she had in store for me, just in a different sequence than originally panned, if I were to use my safe word. She all but promised me I would, at some point.

She disappeared off into the closet again and returned with a blindfold, a cock ring and a parachute for my balls with weights attached to pull them away from my body so they would be easier to get to when the time came. She also returned with a bottle of lube and a few towels, as well as a ball gag, explaining that we were going to go ahead and get right down to it. She approached me and told me to open my mouth and let her get the gag placed first. When I refused to open my mouth, she reached underneath me, got a strong hold on the clamps, and gave them a firm tug, which sent shock waves of pain throughout my entire body. I was quick to open up the next time I was "asked" to do so. The blindfold was next and a few swats on the ass to indicate where she was going to be going next.

I could hear Mistress choosing an instrument to begin the punishment with but had no idea what she had settled upon. I soon found out as the sound of swishing, only slightly predicated the sound of the smacking of my ass with the first paddle. The blows came fast and hard causing me to begin to try to squirm away from the impacts. I could hardly move at all and deffinently not enough to escape the burning licks of the paddle. The blows rained down like fire on my cold ass and soon the heat began to encompass my entire backside. I could not believe the pain I was feeling in the cheeks of my ass. She kept this up for some time and when she did stop, it was only to loosen the gag long enough for me to answer her question of "How many was that?" Of course, I had not been counting; focused on the pain in my ass too much to think about the number of strokes I had received. I tried a best guess approach, which failed miserably and earned me another fifty to go along with the first set. Needles to say I began counting to myself as each lick landed on its target with a new fervor and purpose.

As the paddling went on, I noticed my ass was beginning to get accustomed to the sting of the paddle and it was getting a bit easier to handle the pain. When we got to fifty again, I correctly answered and the paddling stopped. I was grateful for the break but caught off guard when the first taste of the flogger whip landed across my freshly paddled ass checks, presented up for Mistress to target. She was just as thorough with the flogger as she had been with the paddle and to my amazement, the sting, being different, seemed to feel like the same sting of the first few licks of the paddle, sharp and very intense.

Mistress asked me if we had reached fifty yet to which I had to admit I did not believe we had, so I shook my head no. She said I was such a good little whipping boy because she had indeed stopped short by a few strokes wanting to test me. Once again, the blows began to fall until we reached the full count of fifty once more.

With this severe form of a warm up out of the way, I was informed that we were going to begin the process of inserting the butt plug into my extremely tight ass hole and that once we accomplished this she was going to take a break for a bit and rest. Good I thought, I would be able to straighten up and get off those horrible clamps digging into my chest and burning my nipples.

I felt a cold dribble of lubricant start at the high end of my now hot ass and thought I was going to loose it. The contrast was so severe I actually got a chill. Soon I was aware of the tip of the long slender plug easing its way into the outer edge of the tightest sphincter muscles of my ass. There was no finger or smaller instrument used to get my ass used to the idea of something foreign entering in to that tightest of all orifices. She was not brutal with it or anything, she just simply began pushing it in and would only pause long enough for my ass to accommodate the girth of it, then she would continue to push it until another of the knobs of larger size appeared. The pain was extreme but I was able to keep from screaming around the gag somehow.

As this instrument forged its own entrance, I was beginning to learn not to fight it by tightening my muscles or squirming too much, which only served to make matters worse. I felt the big knob at the base of the plug touch the outer surface of my sphincter muscle and thought it was over for a moment, but as soon as I relaxed my body to rest, Mistress began a slow, at first, steady pumping of the plug. Long strokes out then back in, out then back in. I noticed my ass beginning to relax against the pressure of the plug and she picked up the pace of the strokes.

Soon my ass was being fucked as hard and fast as I know Mistress likes to have her ass fucked. She was picking up speed and moving around in large circles, trying to stretch my ass out to be able to accommodate the other plug, which was shorter in length but bigger around. As she pumped the plug in and out of my ass, she was telling me how she had always fantasized about being able to do this to me, and how hot and wet her pussy was getting. I began to feel the stirrings of my cock, which was trying ever so slightly to grow and firm up. As if I were going to get any pussy tonight.

Apparently Mistress had noticed it as well, because she began to chuckle with a low guttural sound, as if she had planned this to happen on cue. As I began to be able to really relax a bit and allow the plug full entrance to me, she shoved it all the way in and it popped into place. Quickly she reached down under me to spank my balls with her hands a few times more, which was quite a shock to the system.