Duncan Lipscomb looked at Wren Johnson sadly. He really wanted her to marry him one day, but he kept pissing her off. And she looked very annoyed now.
Wren was reclining on the bed, gazing fixedly at her Ipad.
"Wren, please." Duncan begged.
Wren looked over at Duncan, cocking her head. God she looked so cute in that body stocking. It was worth every penny Duncan had paid for it.
"What's wrong." she said, smiling. "Your game finally over? Have time for Wren now?"
Duncan shook his head dispiritedly. "I'm really sorry. I just had two minutes left in the game-"
"But two minutes is never two minutes. It's always twenty minutes."
"Y-yes, football is like that."
"You really like your football."
"But I want to hear about everything now."
"I was going to tell you all about it, Duncan, but your football match was so important to you. You like to shout at women when you are impatient, don't you, Duncan?"
Oh, no Was it going to be like the time she picked up the landline and he told her brusquely to hang up, because he was on the extension?
He'd been scheduled at the time to have an orgasm in about 10 days (this after a two and a half month period of chastity) and of course Wren, shocked by Duncan's "rudeness" had refused to discuss climaxes, keys, masturbation or anything for another two months.
For an entire weekend after the phone incident, Wren had Dunc locked to the basement floor, with a Kryptonite bike lock connecting his chastity cage to a metal pole in the basement...
Yes, he'd wet himself repeatedly.
Wrennie didn't fool around!
"Wren, please. I didn't mean to be so impatient. You don't like for me to watch too many sport. I just wanted to see the one game."
And he'd done so much to earn the right to see the game. He'd waited on her gay hairdresser friends in a taffeta dress, and sucked their dicks and kissed their feet, just to prove that the whole football thing wasn't going to make him a macho guy.
Couldn't she see how he'd get excited? It had been the damn Superbowl, after all.
After no sports for so long.
Wren smiled pleasantly. She crooked her long leg. So adorable. Wren was a sexpot, all right.
"Duncan, you said you wanted us to live together, and hoped that I would eventually accompany you to the altar."
Wren smiled and played idly with her cleavage.
"You said you wanted me to give up my submissives, and although I still visit them, I am primarily focused on YOU."
"And then you have your regular boyfriends and lovers." Duncan said sullenly.
"Yes well.. you don't expect me to get all het up over a little fag like you, right? I need a big, hard dick now and then. Your tiny peeper isn't much more than amusement, something to grind under my heel..."
She smiled at the blushing Duncan.
"And your face is nice to sit on, but I have to see a man now and then. But the least I can ask for is that you give me primary attention over all this other crap."
Duncan moved a little closer to the bed. He saw Wren's black patent leather heels down by the bed. This morning, she had cuffed his hands and lay him down naked and she'd rubbed her spikes up and down and around his penis...
This shoe job had gotten him so enthralled before she'd locked him up again, telling him that he should go enjoy his Superbowl, which was oh so much more important.
Would he stay locked? He had to try diplomacy.
"If you're mad at me, and you think I need correction, I understand." Duncan began.
"Do you?" She snorted.
"IF you want to give me a sp-spanking, or something." But Dunc blanched as he said this. Wren, for such a tiny little thing, had a vicious right arm.
"What? You want me to correct you, Duncan? You need a whipping?" Wren smiled. She was enjoying this immensely.
"Oh, Duncan, you see when I need your attention, I have to wait for the end of a football game."
"I watch one or two games a year."
"And now you want met o stop enjoying my Ipad Pinterest stuff to do something for you, give you the thrashing you desperately need. Lucky for you, Wrennie understands."
Wren got up off the bed and stretched, her bosom expanding in the little bustier top. "Take off your clothes and bend over the bed, my little faggot."
Duncan stopped. He didn't want to be whipped unless it made up for... "I meant if you need to punish me for my inattention during the football game. If you don't need to, then, I sure don't want to be-"
"I think I'd be the one to decide, don't you? Though really-" Wren smiled-"If you were trying to manipulate me by tricking me into forgiving you by asking for a flogging, you deserve one anyway-"
"B-but Wren-"
"Look, you are full of decisions tonight. You want it, you don't. As I said, I'm getting a little pissed by all this. So take off your clothes."
Duncan's shoulders slumped and he removed his pants and his panties. Dunc was now wearing panties under his clothes-Wren's idea, though she had commented more than once that it didn't seem to make him less of a macho asshole.
Duncan leaned over the bed. He thought Wren would be fetching a hairbrush or at worst, the multi-holed Spencer paddle.
But here she came with the long, split tailed leather tawse, with the cruel metal studs. It wasn't super-long, but two feet was enough, right? Duncan really thought it was a bit excessive for his inattention in the football matter.
"You're not going to-That's a little harsh-"
"What's wrong, baby? You don't think you deserve this? Something to calm Wrennie down? Put me in a good mood?" Wren ran her tongue across he full lips.
Of course she knew that he thought that if she whipped him, then she'd want to be all kissy and making up...but he didn't really know Wren that well, did he?
Duncan tried to find a comfortable spot to lie on the bed.
"Wait, sugar" Wren's voice floated. "Let's put these nice pillows under your crotch, poke your cheeks up a bit so I can get good aim."
Wren pushed a couple of cushions as Duncan lifted his waist obligingly.
"Now we'll see who is the big man, won't we?"
By the fourth swat Duncan was biting into the bedspread and by the ninth, he was sobbing openly. By swat twelve, Wren worried aloud that she might need to tie him down.
Still, Duncan was very aroused by the punishment, and his penis was straining against the chastity cage, which of course was being pushed into the mattress as the tawse came down again and again.
Wren grinned as the tawse sliced into Dunc's ass repeatedly, and, at number eighteen, Duncan called out his safe word.
"You sure about this, Dunkie? I thought you could use twenty at least."
