Once a week, William's loving wife becomes the masturbatrix and humiliatrix of his fetishistic dreams, all while she watches her favorite TV show, The Bachelorette.
Jessica's Rules
includes femdom, wifedom, tease and denial, edging, orgasm control, cum eating, spanking, CBT, humiliation and begging.
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"It's almost eight o'clock, honey, are you getting ready?"
William Smacker's wife asked him if he was getting ready, but he knew what she meant -- she meant was he getting hard?
William stood in the corner of his walk-in closet, facing the wall, and hollered back to his wife, "Yes sweetheart, I'll be ready." William's pants and tighty-whities were dropped to the floor, puddled around his ankles, while his right fist jerked desperately at his shriveled penis, trying to coax an erection before his eight o'clock deadline.
William had one more beer with his neighbor Morris than he should have, but Morris had insisted that they were talking about important things like how to grow greener grass on the golf course and who was hotter 40 years ago: Olivia Newton-John, or Cher. William didn't want to look like a wussy so he accepted one more beer.
"Now Billy, you know I told you to come home at 7:30 and start getting ready but no, you had to sit over there talking to that slacker Morris Winston about who knows what until almost ten minutes to eight and now you're having trouble getting it up, aren't you? We've talked about this before, Billy, you know there are consequences for tardy behavior."
William knew what she meant by consequences; he pulled down on his balls with his left hand and doubled the stroking speed with his right hand -- but it was too late.
Jessica Smacker leaned against the closet doorway, her arms folded tightly across her breasts, her forehead wrinkled in a disapproving scowl. "You can't get it up can you, you naughty boy. I plan a nice rub-and-tug session for you while we watch The Bachelorette and you go and drink too much beer and now you can't even get it up. Well, I'm not missing the start of the show. You'll just have to stand there working on your 'problem' until the first commercial."
William hung his head in shame and stared down at his flaccid penis. He was embarrassed that he couldn't achieve a manly boner and had to stand in the corner like a punished school boy.
Jessica lifted one of William's belts off the closet rack and handed it to him. "Here, give yourself twenty dick-slaps with this leather belt. Maybe that will get the blood running in your limpy-wimpy, and maybe it will teach you a lesson about being on time when I plan a nice treat for you."
"Yes dear," said William, "but what about rule number one?"
Over the years, Jessica had established a number of rules for their weekly rub-and-tug sessions. Rule number one stated that William would not be spanked unless he had an erection that was at least parallel to the floor when standing at attention.
"Oh, rule number one applies to spankings, honey, not dick-slappings. Go ahead now, get started. I'll be back in a minute to see how you're getting along. And honey, be sure to make them hard - and loud; loud enough for me to hear them out in the living room. In fact, you know what, why you don't make it forty: twenty from the top down and twenty more from the bottom up. Go ahead now, be a good boy and don't give me any more reasons to get angrier than I already am."
As Jessica turned and started walking out of the closet, William felt the beginnings of an erection. Ten minutes of stroking had done nothing, but being talked to like a naughty school boy, that was the mustard that put the heat into William's wimpy wiener.
William wasn't particularly submissive, and he really wasn't into pain, but being told to do ridiculous, embarrassing things, well, that could spring a hard-on almost instantly no matter how much he had to drink. Some would call it erotic humiliation -- William didn't know if that was the right label -- he just knew what he liked and he knew Jessica loved him enough to try to give him whatever he desired.
William wished that Jessica would stick around and supervise while he slapped the head of his dick -- just to make it even more embarrassing for him -- and more arousing, but he had made his choices and he knew she wasn't going to miss the start of her favorite show just to indulge his warped fantasies. He would just have to be satisfied with the embarrassment of being heard slapping his dick, and forgo the even more stimulating embarrassment of being watched.
Rolling up the belt until there were only fifteen inches left, William swung it up over his shoulder and brought it crashing down onto the head of his penis like he was swatting a yellow-jacket at a fourth of July picnic. He yowled like a man does when he hits his thumb with a hammer, then did a tap dance in place that would put Fred Astaire to shame.
Three more slaps, yowls and tap-dances produced a quick interruption by Jessica shouting from the living room. "Billy, you are distracting me from concentrating on my show. This young lady is so precious and some of these guys are just dogs."
"All men are dogs at some time or another sweetheart. It's in their basic nature. Fortunately for me, I have a good woman to keep me in line when I stray from the straight and narrow."
"I know, I know, you try. I just wish you were here in my lap now, with one of my hands on your balls and the other making slow twisting tugs on your big-old man-meat, but you've been a naughty boy and you're getting remedial training, aren't you? Start over now from one honey and this time no yowling -- just the sound of your man-thing getting the slaps it needs to get hard."
William hung his head even lower and looked down at his half-erect penis, then started his dick-slappings at a slower pace, one that allowed him to stifle his yowls and keep his feet planted in one place. He had just completed ten down-strokes and was about to start on some up-strokes when he heard Jessica speaking to him from just inside the closet doorway.
"Honey at that pace you're going to miss the entire first half; you need to pick it up sweetheart. Show me ten quick ones from the bottom up before I go back to my show. Do it for me now, honey, really good ones."
William sucked in a full breath of air, held it, then attacked his dick with a rapid fire of up-swings. With each swing, his dick flew up, bounced off his belly, then fell back down just in time to meet the next up-swing of the belt. It looked as if his dick was somehow attached to the end of the belt with a rubber string that just kept it bobbing endlessly up and down.
After ten good whacks, all William could do was drop the belt to his feet, squeeze his eyes shut and let out a mournful moan, "Oh Jessica...." A single tear-drop rolled down his cheek.
"Very impressive, my dear. I don't really understand it, but you must really like pain. I'll try to give you some extra hard spanks with the paddle before you have your little cummie tonight. Finish you dick slappings, then crawl out to the living room on your hands and knees with the paddle between your teeth."
Williams's heartbeat quickened. He wanted to explain that it wasn't pain he craved, but rather the exhilarating feeling of turning over control of both pain and pleasure to someone he completely loved and trusted. Acceptance of pain, even if he didn't really like it, allowed him to demonstrate in a real way his acceptance of his wife's complete control over his feelings, and his trust in allowing her to decide when his ultimate sexual gratification would be permitted.
"Thank you sweetheart, I do so appreciate the time you spend meeting my ridicules, kinky fetishes, and I am sorry for being late for the nice evening you had planned."
