In Her Eyes

When I came downstairs this morning I was still completely pissed off. Through all our years together, I knew she had the capability to be a complete bitch at times but last night's performance, a moody really immature display in front our family and guests was the limit. It wasn't even as if she had been drunk or anything, in fact the opposite was true. She had simply gone off in an almighty sulk and ruined everyone's night. I had noticed a couple of them looking at me with an expression that said 'Why doesn't he take her in hand?'

To a large extent it was my own fault. I have always been non-confrontational, and went out of my way to avoid a shouting match. Well no more. This morning I would address the problem and when she came down I would resist the inevitable apologies with downcast eyes and offers to make it up.

I made a coffee and took it across the yard to my workshop which was in an outbuilding of our rural home. There was a wooden stool I often used when working. It was about three feet and length and 18 inches deep. I drilled a hole about half way along the length and a couple of inches in from the edge. I unlocked a cupboard and retrieved a conical object, and after drilling some smaller holes in its base, positioned it over the hole in the stool and used some small bolts to fasten it, pointing upwards, to the stool.

I positioned the stool in the centre of the workspace and returned to the house. When I got into the kitchen she was up and dressed in her habitual fashion, a baggy sweater and a pair of old jeans I would have been ashamed to wear to fix the car.

When she saw me she started the old 'let's make up' routine and I stopped her in her tracks by telling her that last night was completely unacceptable, that we had gone through this before and it was clear she needed some help in focussing on normal decent grown up behaviour. She started to speak and I silenced her by holding up my hand and insisting on her agreement or otherwise

Barely audible she agreed, but I insisted that she say it loud and clear, which she did, albeit falteringly.

I told her to get undressed and she looked at me as if I had slapped her.

I should explain some things about my wife. For her age she is extremely shapely and good looking but for some reason she insists on dressing in the most unattractive and unrevealing clothes. I haven't seen her naked for years as even when we make love, she always gets into bed in her bra and panties and covers herself with the sheet before we can remove her things. Where this puritanical streak came from a few years after we married is a total mystery to me, and as for trying anything remotely risqué in the bedroom department, forget it.

She gave a whimper which I knew translated exactly as 'do I have to?' and I told her in a stern voice to 'Get naked -- NOW!!'

I could see her trying to decide how far she could push me and saw a look of resignation come across her face as it dawned on her that I was deadly serious.

She peeled off her jumper and I saw that she was wearing her black lingerie. I wondered what the occasion was while registering that, whatever the reason, it pleased me. Next came the denims -- you couldn't really describe these shapeless things as jeans.

With these removed, and standing before me in just her bra and panties, a sight rarely seen and always pleasing, she looked at me with pleading eyes. With a flick of my finger I indicated that she should remove them, and with a genuine sigh she did, first removing the bra to reveal her still attractive breasts and then her panties. She stood there before me buck naked with her eyes boring holes in the kitchen floor.

I considered stopping there, as her humiliation was great and genuine and I am sure she would learn no greater lesson as a result of the additional indignities I had in mind. However, as they say in the quiz show, 'I've started -- so I'll finish.'

I went to her and lifted her chin so she was looking at my face but still she kept her eyes downcast.

I had brought a couple of things from the cupboard in the workshop. First I fitted a dog collar round her neck and secured it. It was stout, made from thick leather and was studded and fitted with three D rings. For the first time she met my eyes and her expression was first quizzical and then compliant.

Next, I fitted leather cuffs to her wrists and when they were in place I told her to clasp her hands behind her head. She hesitated for a brief moment and then did as she was told and once in place I used a padlock to secure her cuffs to one of the collar rings. Finally I fitted leather ankle cuffs to her.

She looked at me again and this time her expression was a mixture of sadness and fear.

I picked up her clothes and told her to follow me to the workshop and again she looked totally shocked. It was something of an extreme for her to be naked at all but to venture outside in the nude was unthinkable. Worse than that, the way her hands were fixed, she had no means of covering her modesty.

I told her to get her arse over there now and strode out ahead of her. On my way through the utility room I removed a garment from the clothes horse and set out across the yard. It was about fifty yards from the house door to the workshop and halfway across I turned and saw her cowering just inside the house door. I shouted that if she did not come this second it would be worse for her, and that seemed to convince her as she started to cross the yard, in all her glory, tentatively at first and then at a frantic pace. She had almost caught up with me by the time I reached the workshop and as I got there I opened one of the rubbish bins that stood outside and dumped her jumper and jeans in it.

Again the symbolism of this act was not lost on her and she now displayed a great deal of apprehension.

When we entered the workshop and she saw the stool with a large flared butt plug pointing skyward her apprehension turned to sheer terror.

I was not about to waste any time. Secretly I was afraid I would lose my resolve so I got right into it. I told her to kneel before the stool and get the butt plug as wet as she could as that was all the lubrication she would be afforded.

She stood motionless and trembling so I grabbed her by her collar and led her forward, pushing her to her knees as if praying to some weird religious artefact and finally bending her forward so her mouth was against the black silicone.

This was of course mind games and humiliation. I did intent to lube it before it impaled her. I busied myself organising bits and pieces from my cupboard and then I returned to her.

I explained that after last night's performance it was clear to me that we had failed to address her behaviour issues by dialogue and reason, and as such the only thing left to me was to enforce a standard of decent and social behaviour. And to aid me in enforcing it she would be subjected to a four part punishment and a set of rules that would set crystal clear boundaries on how she should conduct herself.

I told her that she would first be tied up, and then I would explain in more detail what was in store for her. 'Tied up?' It sounds quite benign when you say it like that.

I raised her to her feet and placed her with her back to the stool. I lubricated the butt plug without letting on and moving in front of her positioned her in front of it. The terror in her eyes was now mixed with pleading, but still she did not speak.

I spread her legs as much as I could and encouraged her into a sitting position. You must understand of course that the thought of employing a sex toy in any way would never have crossed her mind, but the concept of having a foreign body invade her arse would have been bewildering and abhorrent in equal measures.

For whatever reason, some form of compliant serenity seemed to have descended on her and to my amazement, she responding to my promptings to position herself. As she assumed a squatting position I guided her until the tip of the plug was touching the bud of her anus and them told her to lower herself. She tried to go down but a mixture of fear and tension was preventing her from lowering herself enough.

Satisfied that they were lined up correctly I went in front of her and taking her collar in my left hand to steady her, I reached down with my right hand and lifted her ankle off the ground meaning she was only supported on one leg. With this she began to sink and I heard her gasp and saw her look of alarm as the plug started to penetrate her. Gradually she sunk lower and as the plug flared out it spread her further. As she travelled down to the thickest part of the plug she was whimpering with tears streaming from her eyes. I released the leg I was holding and placing my hands on her shoulders exerted firm yet gentle downwards pressure. She was moaning and crying loudly now and I was beginning to worry that her virgin arse might not be capable of taking the widest diameter of the plug, when with a loud plop, the widest part passed into her and her sphincter relaxed around the narrower, but still substantially stretching diameter of the base section.

As she sighed with relief at being invaded by a lesser diameter I took a pump and lying under the stool, connected it to the valve in the inflatable plug. I pumped air into it causing it to expand inside her, meaning it could not come out without being deflated.

Imagine the scene. My prudish, dowdy wife was naked, her hands locked behind her head, her breasts swinging free, her legs spread open to reveal her cunt. And she was going nowhere as she was bolted to a stool by her arsehole. I gave her a few minutes to consider her position. She told me that it hurt. I told her it was meant to.

I worked quickly to consolidate her discomfort. I used a length of cord to secure each ankle cuff to the stool meaning her legs were off the ground and her entire weight was bearing down on the butt plug that impaled her.

When I completed this she started to plead to be released but I simply told here to be silent, completely silent.

When she continued whimpering, I fitted a head harness with a ball gag attached. When strapped up, the ball was behind her teeth and the harness prevented her from opening her mouth.

I used another couple of lengths of cord and tied each tit tightly round its base. This made her tits firm up and become ultra-sensitive.

Her nipples were rock hard and I decorated them with a cloverleaf clamp on each with three 200 gram weights attached. Of course when weight is attached to a cloverleaf the effect is that the clamps are forced even tighter together. So it stands to reason that when the weights are attached by elastic cord and dropped, they will bounce up and down for an extended period before coming to rest, and that the frequent descent to the bottom of the bounce cycle, will cause an exponential increase in the pain generated.

Finally I attached a couple of clamps on each of her cunt lips. On each side a cord from the clamps draped over her suspended thigh and down behind it where a 1.5Kg weight pulled constantly on it. The effect of this was that her cunt lips were stretched to the limit of their elasticity and the inner workings of her cunt fully exposed.

At this, I considered that she was suitably restrained and we could now proceed to have our little chat.

*****

I pulled up another stool and sat in front of her, deliberately selecting one that was substantially lower than hers. With me seated below her I had a grandstand view of her spayed thighs and the focal point between them.

Before we continued, I pointed to my video camera on its tripod at the back of the room and told her that everything that had happened so far had been recorded in HD and everything that was about to happen would also be kept for posterity, and I hoped she would enjoy being a porn star. When I saw the rage in her eyes, I thought she might break free of all the bonds that held her and choke the living daylights out of me. I asked her to confirm that she deserved to be punished. Of course she could not speak but simply gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

I asked her if she thought that this level of punishment was extreme, and after a little hesitation she nodded again. I told her that this was not yet extreme but we were working gradually towards that goal. She shivered.

I asked her if she was now ready to consider the wishes of other people and she nodded enthusiastically. I imagine she thought that if she agreed then I would just roll over and release her from her uncomfortable position.

I told her that was good and that I wished her to maintain a completely shaved cunt for the rest of her life -- did she agree? I thought her eyes would explode. They widened so much in sheer shock at my demand. She gave no sign of acceptance or rejection for a full couple of minutes. I imaging she was working out the angles, the consequences of each possible response. The beauty of negotiating with someone who is gagged is that they are only capable of binary responses. Yes or No! There was no ability to negotiate a middle ground or try to chip away at the edges. There was only Yes or No.

She nodded.

With a song in my heart I removed the weights and clamps from her pussy and restored it to almost its original shape, with her gloriously unruly muff now restored to display. I heated some water in the kettle I used for coffee when working, and went back to her with my electric razor which I had brought out.

A few careful passes with the beard trimmer and her long treasured muff was reduced to a stubble. Then I lathered her up and carefully set about her with my safety razor. When I was finished, I moisturised her and sat back to admire my handiwork. She craned forward to see what I had done and I'm sure would have she would have had her mouth hanging open if it had not been clamped shut by the head harness.

I told her that it was her duty to shave at least every second day from now on -- did she understand?

A slight nod.

I told her that she had not yet been punished, only prepared for punishment. She watched me wide eyed. Her expression turned to incredulity when I stripped off before her and proceeded to get dressed.... In her panties, then her bra, and finally the short satin nighty I had lifted from the clothes horse.

I told her about the new rules. Amongst them were that she was never again to wear trousers or shorts of any description and she was only permitted to wear a short skirt or dress. She looked thoroughly miserable.

She was asked to confirm that she understood. A small shake of the head

I repeated the rule enquiring if she had suddenly become a simpleton. Understood? A nod

I asked her if she agreed. Hesitation and then a nod

She was never again to wear panties, tights or socks of any kind. She was permitted only to wear stockings and suspenders.

Understood? A small nod

Agreed? A long hesitation, probably accompanied by wondering how she could get me sectioned. A tiny nod

She was never again to wear a bra without my explicit permission on each and every occasion it was required.

Understood? A tear squeezed out of her left eye.

UNDERSTOOD? A nod

Agreed? A nod

I was free to wear any articles of clothing I pleased, as now.

Understood? A nod

Agreed? Tears out of both eyes

AGREED? Tears flowing freely now

And then a nod

I re-attached her cunt clamps and the weights (damn they looked really sore) and sat before her again. I described how her punishment would be in four parts.

I wandered over to my cupboard and selected three implements and returned placing them on the stool beside me. I had chosen a Cat o' Nine Tails, an old fashioned school tawse made from thick leather and split into three tails and a medium heavy cane. She had the good grace to provide her most terrified expression yet.

The first part was her current bondage. It was part of her punishment except the clock had not yet started running.

I produced a pack of cards and explained that it contained only the cards from 5 to King and one Joker. Each card was worth its face value and Jack was 11, Queen was 12, King was 13 and the only Joker was 25.

In a moment I would shuffle then and cut the deck and then start dealing them out face down. She had to select two of them by grunting and I would put those two cards aside, still face down, and put the remainder of the pack back in my cupboard.

I would then look at the cards she had selected and multiply the two values together. The result of that calculation would determine the severity of her punishment. The number of additional minutes she would remain in her current position, the number of minutes she would be locked in a cage and the number of strokes she must endure from my implements of pain, once released from these bondage scenes.

There were a couple of extras and some points to clarify. At this point I thought she might faint.

In choosing two cards we were both entrusting the severity of her punishment to chance. If she was lucky and drew two 5's she would only remain trussed up and caged for 25 minutes and only suffer a combined 25 strokes from the Cat, the Tawse and the Cane.

However if she was unlucky and drew a Joker and a King she would be trussed up and caged for a further 625 minutes (5½ hours) each and would have to bear a combined 625 strokes from the Cat, the Tawse and the Cane.

It was important to emphasise that while I would know the number she had drawn she would not and would not know the extent of her suffering until it was complete. The two cards would remain in view but still face down for the duration and would be available for her inspection when it was over, to ensure fair play.

In the event of her drawing in excess of 100 strokes, I could at my sole discretion, spread the whipping over a number of days to minimise the chance of causing her real damage. I did not point out that a side effect of this would be to extend her terror and apprehension and that this was of course a pleasing prospect for me.

In the event that she declined, for whatever reason, to select two cards, she would by default receive the maximum sentence of 625 minutes and strokes.

Depending on the number drawn, the sequence would go something like this.

Bondage for somewhere between half an hour and 5½ hours followed by removal of her head harness.

She would then be treated to some Cock Sucking lessons. This was clearly the most loathsome thing she had heard yet while from my perspective, I drooled. Think about it. At my bloody age I've never had my cock sucked. Well in for a penny in for a pound. That would change today.

Only when she had reached a satisfactory level of performance there, she would be released from her, by now excruciating bondage, and locked in a cage for the duration she had drawn.

Then when that time had elapsed, and after she had hopefully had plenty of time to think about it, she would be tied with her hands high above her head, fixed to a beam in the roof and her legs placed in a spreader, ready to be whipped. Every part of her body below the neck would receive some blows, and for the avoidance of doubt, her tits and cunt would be especially targeted.

I asked if she had any questions.... Oh sorry, I forgot.

It all went as I had planned and when it was over I carried her to the house and placed her in a hot luxurious bath with lots of bubbles and lotions. She sobbed for a long time and lay even longer letting the waters soothe and heal her. When she called I wrapped her in soft towels and carried her through to the bedroom where I gently dried her off before applying a soothing balm all over to try to reduce the residual pain from her heavy spanking. As I rubbed the balm gently and steadily into her beautifully smooth cunt something happened.