The Disciplinarian Ch. 08

Hand Washing

The conversation in the living room wound down and I heard Jennie and the guests saying their goodbyes. Moments later, she opened the door to my room.

"Well, I see you are wearing jammies, after all," she said.

I just clenched my jaw and looked away from her, the universal female signal meaning "I'm not speaking to you."

"OK," she said, "I guess that's your way of saying 'Stop.' Fair enough. We're not as good at this as Mr. Daniels is. Maybe we went too far. I don't know how he's going to react to your disobedience, mainly because I don't know how he feels about you. If you are still just a— ... a client to him, well ... well you know he doesn't usually allow someone who's dropped out to resume sessions with him. But maybe he'll make an exception since it's Angie and me that you're disobeying and not him. Still, if he means something to you, I'd hate to see you risk that. But, then, maybe you don't want to see him anymore anyway."

She paused to see if I reacted. I didn't.

"Well, Angie's gone home and I'm going to watch some TV and then go to bed. If you change your mind, just let me know. Angie and I won't spank you for what you did in the laundry room. We'll leave that to Mr. Daniels. But if you want to resume having me and Angie enforce his 'no masturbation' rule for you, ... well ... like I said, just let me know."

With that, she left.

I sat there contemplating my future. I could imagine moving, getting a new job and new friends, but when I thought about losing Mickey, I started to cry. What if I never meet another man who appreciates my body type, who doesn't mind a woman under five feet tall? But most of all I thought about how much I loved Mickey and the thought of losing him filled me with a terrifying dread; a big black hole opened up inside me. I wanted to fill that hole again. I wanted to fill it with the joy and pleasure that Mickey had given me.

I reached a decision that I now think was inevitable.

I stood up and took off my PJs. I picked up the shame bonnet and put it back on my head. Then I put the mitts on. Naked, I walked out to the living room to where Jennie had just turned off the TV and was yawning. She was startled to see me approach in the nude, but only for a moment. She smiled.

"I think you've made the right decision," she said, "Now, I've got a little chore for you before we both go to bed. But, first, go into the kitchen."

She followed me in and told me to stand on a chair and bend over with my hands on the kitchen table.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"For inspection," she explained, "just like at Angie's house the other night. Only then we were inspecting you to see if you were wet enough for the zucchini. But this time I want to verify that you are not wet. Since you have a lot less will power than I thought, you're going to have to be inspected regularly to see that you haven't been stirring your honey pot. Until Mr. Daniels gets back, anytime you are out-of-sight of Angie and me for more than a few minutes, we are going to inspect you to see if you are wet. Now get up on that chair."

With a sigh, I did as ordered. Once I was up on the chair, I bent all the way over and put my mitts on the top of the table.

"OK," she continued, "now move one foot to the next chair, so your legs are spread enough for me to see your little nest."

Again, I sighed, but again I obeyed.

I stood there bent and spread obscenely while Jennie stepped behind me to get a look. My privates were at the perfect height for her to inspect. After a moment she declared that she was satisfied that I hadn't been masturbating, and I was allowed to step down from the chairs.

"Now," she said, "I want you to wash your shame bonnet, but you can't use the washing machine. In fact, I don't want you going anywhere near that dryer until Mr. Daniels gets back, so you must stay out of the laundry room. I want you to take off your mitts and hand wash the shame bonnet in the bathtub. Then bring it back to me."

Using a small dollop of laundry soap that Jennie got for me from the laundry room, I hand scrubbed the underwear in our bathtub and wrung it out.

When I brought them out to Jennie, I figured that she would take them into the laundry room and toss them in the dryer. But instead, she simply pointed to our wooden rocking chair as she handed me two clothespins, she ordered me to hang the panties from the top of the chair back to dry.

"But, Jennie, if they are hanging there, everyone who visits or even comes to our door can see them," I protested.

"That's the idea," she explained. "Naughty girls who play with themselves and get their underwear wet must hand wash them and then air dry them in public."

"But how will we explain to people why they are hanging there?" I asked, "What will we say?"

"We'll tell them the truth, of course," she said, pretending to be surprised at my question. "We'll explain that you masturbated in them and that you're not allowed to use the dryer because you treat it as a vibrator."

My face flushed red at the thought of having to make this confession to everyone who came to our door, but I obeyed and soon my rainbow hi-cuts were hanging across the back of the rocking chair.

"Now," she said, "let's get your 'naughty hands' mitts back on."

Back in the kitchen where we'd left the mittens, Jennie bent to rummage in a low drawer while I slipped the mitts back on.

"There it is," she said more to herself than me. When she straightened up, she had a roll of duct tape in her hand.

"I know you must have taken off the mitts to tie that homemade diaper thingy that you made," she explained, "so it appears that you cannot be trusted to keep them on. I'm going to fasten them with tape."

With that, she wrapped tape around the right hand mitt and my wrist several times to make a seal. Then she did the same to the left.

"Alright, Soo May," she said when she was finished, "I'm heading to bed and so are you, but you are to stay naked all night and sleep on top of the covers. Leave your door open so I can check on you during the night and verify that you are not masturbating. In the morning, I'll cut off the tape so you can get dressed and go to work."

And so I found myself a minute later lying naked on my bedspread with 'naughty hands' mittens fastened tight, and my door wide open. Curious, I tested whether there was any way that I could unpeel the tape. I wasn't going to remove them; I just wanted to see if I could in an emergency. It turned out that I couldn't: the mittens didn't allow me enough dexterity to peel up the tape. I tried using my teeth, but that did not work either. If there was a fire in the building, I could probably get a robe on and hold it closed, but I'd just have to evacuate with the mitts still taped on and endure the puzzled looks of the people around me.

In the morning, when I woke up, the first thing I saw was my rainbow panties hanging accusingly from the back of the rocker, and I blushed at the sight of them.

As she promised, Jennie cut the tape off the mitts and allowed me to shower and dress for work.

When I got home at the end of the day, I had to strip and put on the "naughty hands" mitts and the "shame bonnet," and then wait for Jennie. When she got a home about 10 minutes later, she again made me stand on two chairs in the kitchen and bend over for inspection.

And so that's how my life went for the next six days until Mickey returned. At night, I would sleep nude on top of the covers with my bedroom door open and the mittens taped to my hands. In the day, I would go to work as usual, but I spent the evenings wearing the shame bonnet, the mittens, and nothing else. I was allowed to take off the mitts only when eating or doing a chore that required fingers. Anytime Jennie went shopping or was away from me for more than a few minutes, I would have to submit to a kitchen chair inspection of my privates. I was not allowed to enter the laundry room by myself. If I had a load of laundry, I had to stand outside the door of the laundry room wearing nothing save my bonnet and mittens, hang my head, and say "Jennie, I cannot be trusted with the dryer, please chaperone me while I'm in there." Jennie would then come and stand in the room with me while I loaded the washer. I had to repeat this when it was time to move the clothes to the dryer and then say it a third time when it was time to empty the dryer.

I spent the Saturday of that week at Angie's when her husband was out. The routine there (and my state of undress) was largely the same, except that Angie made me request my inspections aloud and explain why I "needed" them. So I had to say something along the lines of "I'm a little muff-rubbing slut with no impulse control. Please inspect my privates to verify that I haven't played with myself."

In truth, I was feeling pretty horny by the time Mickey got back. Although I had not had a man in my life for a couple of years, I had stroked myself to climax two or three times a week in that time, so the six days between my climax on the dryer and Mickey's return was the longest I'd gone without an orgasm in two years.

Catching Up

My anger at Mickey for giving Jennie and Angie so much power over me had abated enough that I used his car to pick him up at the airport as planned. But I still wanted an explanation from him.

We met at the baggage claim and he scooped me into his arms and gave me a long kiss. Afterward, he held me and just looked at my face for a long time, smiling his George Clooney smile.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

"The prettiest thing in three counties," he replied and then he kissed me again.

Well it was hard to stay mad at him after that, so I decided to postpone my questions.

When we were back at his place, he didn't wait to unpack before making love to me. He just put down the suitcases, picked me up in his arms, and carried me to the bedroom. After nearly two weeks apart, we were both ravenous and it didn't take long before we both came. Then we repeated the performance a few more times before stopping to rest.

I lay in his arms as he told me several stories about his time in Africa, and after a while he asked me how I'd spent my time. I told him about our Wine and Fantasy and how it had been interrupted by the sudden return of Angie's husband. This seemed to concern him.

"He saw you wearing only tights below the waist?" Mickey asked.

"Yes, but they weren't 'see through' tights."

"Granted," he said, "but that really isn't a fashion, is it?"

"No," I confirmed, "Angie was just bluffing when she told him that. No one would really go to someone's house for an evening wearing nothing but tights below the waist. Why are you asking?"

"Because tights are ... well ... tight," he explained. "I don't think I like the idea of another man seeing you like that without me there."

"Are you jealous, Mickey?" I asked both surprised and pleased at his reaction.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am," he admitted. "But I've seen Angie completely nude, so I guess I'm not in a position to complain."

There was a long pause before I spoke again.

"There's something else I want to ask you," I said, "why did you add that special rule just for me?"

"What special rule?" he said sleepily.

"That I wasn't allowed to play with myself until you got back," I explained, "and that Angie and Jennie could punish me any way they wanted if I did so without their permission."

"I never said that," he said with surprise. "Why would I want to do that? Where did you get such an idea?"

"They told me!" I answered. "They said it was part of your instructions to them."

He sat bolt upright in bed and looked down at me with genuine puzzlement. "They said that I said that?"

"Well ... yeah," I replied. Now, I was feeling puzzled. "Why would they make that up?"

"Hmmm ... I'm not sure ..." he said, "and I aim to find out. In the meantime, I guess that no harm was done. Maybe you were deprived of satisfaction for a week or so, but other than that ..."

"Well ... um ...," I tried to think of how to explain that there was more to it than that.

"What?" he asked, "Did something else happen?"

"Uh ... yeah ...," I started hesitantly. "After the Wine and Fantasy ended early and we went home, ... well ... uh ... Jennie ... uh ..."

"Yes?" he asked with a touch of impatience, "What did Jennie do?"

"Well, she sort of ... uh ... caught me," I blushed in embarrassment.

"Caught you?" he looked confused for a just a moment before his face transformed into a look of belated understanding. "Oh, I get it. You mean you did play with yourself? And she caught you?"

I looked away. "Yes," I whispered.

"There's no reason to be shy about it, Soo May," he said gently. "Masturbation is a great way to learn about your own sexuality."

Then after a pause, he asked, "So, did they punish you?"

"Yes," I said. And then I proceeded to tell him the whole story. At first he was curious at how Jennie and Angie had dominated me and mildly annoyed that they had done it without his knowledge. But as the story went on, at various points he asked questions or exclaimed in outrage.

"... mittens? Not bad, actually, I'll have to remember that."

"... made you ask for spanking in front of this Robby guy?!"

"... go out to living room pantless? In front of Robby?!"

"... hairbrush ... for that long?!"

"... cross to the laundry topless in front of Robby?!!"

"... why did she turn on dryer?"

"... saw you climax? Robby too?!"

"... shame bonnet ... I get it."

"... T-shirt tied like a diaper? That was clever of you actually."

"... run to your room in front of the Robby and the other couple?!!!"

The Detective Interrogates

We put on robes and sat in the living room among his still unpacked bags having a glass of wine. For a long time after I told him the story, he seemed lost in thought.

After a while, he asked, "How did the short-shorts get under the chair cushion? You said you had just laid them on the chair, but after Roger came home, they were under the cushion. Who hid them under the cushion?"

"I don't know," I replied, "I've been wondering that myself."

"The only time you were out of the room that evening was when they inspected you in the kitchen. In what order did you three enter the kitchen?"

"Hmmm," I tried to remember, "I think Angie was first and then me and then Jennie. So you do you think Jennie put them under the cushion while Angie and I had our backs turned?"

"That's a possibility," he mused, "but you said that later after Roger was home, Angie seemed to know exactly where your short-shorts were and that she signaled this to Jennie by just pointing and mouthing something."

"Yes," I agreed, "Angie definitely knew where they were and Jennie did not, although Jennie didn't seem particularly surprised that they were hidden. Angie must have hidden them when both Jennie and I were distracted— Wait! I know! Jennie was reading a story about a woman reporter in a foreign prison. Angie was counting the spanks in the story and I was bent over the couch listening. Angie could have moved the shorts under the cushion during the non-spanking parts of the story. But why? She knew I wouldn't put them on, because your instructions were to leave them off. Why bother to hide them?"

"Good question ... hmmmm," his voice trailed off and he was lost in thought again. After a good minute, he resumed his interrogation.

"What exactly did Roger say to Angie when he came home that night? Did he have any explanation for why he was early?"

"Yeah, actually, he did," I replied as the memory came back to me. "In fact, he was surprised that she was surprised. He said that he'd told her before he left that there wasn't going to be a poker game that night and that he'd be watching a ball game instead. Then he said he came home after the third quarter because the game was a blowout."

"I see," Mickey said, a slow smile spreading his face, "now I understand what happened ... and what was supposed to happen."

"Well, explain it to me, 'cause I'm still lost."

"Roger came home earlier than Angie expected, alright, but only by about 30 minutes."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that's how long the fourth quarter of a televised basketball game takes to play, with all the timeouts and commercials," Mickey explained. "You see, Angie knew there was no poker game and that Roger was going to be home hours earlier than usual. She didn't tell you that, and she didn't reschedule the Wine and Fantasy, which means she intended Roger to 'surprise' the three of you."

As he said this, Mickey used his fingers to make air quotes around the word "surprise."

"But why?" I asked, still puzzled.

"To humiliate you in some way," Mickey explained. "If things had gone according to plan, then a few minutes before she actually expected Roger to return home; she and Jennie would have maneuvered you into a situation that would have put you at great risk of embarrassment when Roger came home 'unexpectedly.' Probably, they'd have had you bottomless or being spanked or both. That's why Angie hid your shorts: so you wouldn't be able to grab them and put them on when you heard Roger come through the front door. They'd have hidden your tights, too."

"But Roger doesn't know what we do in our Wine and Fantasy evenings. He doesn't even know what we call them," I pointed out. "How would Angie have explained to him what I was doing?"

"Well, most likely, he wouldn't have actually seen you or known you were there. You'd have ducked behind furniture when you heard him come through the front door and then you would have discovered that your shorts and tights were nowhere to be seen. Angie and Jennie would have chatted with him in the living room knowing that you were hiding and maybe even found excuses to get him to move around the room, which would have forced you to crawl around on all fours to stay out of his sight."

Mickey let this sink in for a moment before he continued.

"But I'm sure they had a backup plan, just in case Roger did see you. If he had, they would probably have given him the same bull feathers story they gave you later and that they gave Robby the next night. They'd have said that your new boyfriend forbids you to play with yourself and that they caught you and were punishing you at your boyfriend's request. You would have had to play along with their story."

"Why?" I asked. "Why couldn't I have told Roger the truth?"

"Because," he explained, "any other explanation you gave Roger would have been even more embarrassing to you. You'd have had to tell him about me and the sessions the four of us had. What's more, Angie and Jennie would have denied it all and Roger would have believed them; after all, they were fully dressed. Moreover, your story about 'The Disciplinarian' [he made air quotes again] would have seemed preposterous to him."

"I see," I replied slowly, thinking it over, "that's almost what happened, except I had tights on when he got home."

"Right," Mickey agreed. "Because the game was a blowout, Roger came home 30 minutes before even Angie and Jennie were expecting him. They weren't ready. Literotica was still on the laptop screen, for example."

"OK, that all fits," I said, "but what makes you think Jennie was in on it?"

"Because you said Jennie wasn't surprised that the shorts were hidden. Also, because Angie would have needed Jennie to back up her explanation to Roger if he'd actually seen you bottomless. They would have needed to get their story straight. Finally, when you were leaving Angie's that night, she and Jennie both gave you the same lie — that I had forbidden you to play with yourself and that I had given them permission to punish you if you did. But they hadn't been together, and away from you, that entire evening, so they must have conspired together beforehand."