Late for Dinner

"I'm home." I called out as I shut the door behind me. It was almost seven; I was late and had neglected, not forgotten-neglected to call, so I was feeling very apprehensive as I returned home today.

"Would you please take your boots off in there by the door, I've been cleaning this house all day." Replied my wife, from what sounded like the vicinity of the kitchen-and pleasantly I might add, perhaps I should not have worried about not calling. I knelt down and took off my first boot and had the second one halfway off when the light in the entryway subtly changed. I glanced towards where the shadow had come from and noticed a pair of black boots standing in the doorway. My mouth dropped open and I stopped what I was doing.

My eyes scanned upwards and there stood my beautiful wife of seventeen years dressed like a dominatrix. The black thigh high boots had gleaming chrome stiletto heels that had to be at least four inches high and they buckled up the sides with a little black belt and shiny chrome buckle about every four inches, above that she wore only a pair of sexy black panties, a black bustier and a black leather mask like Robin in the old Batman television series. She had a black leather riding crop in her hand and looked absolutely smoking hot standing there looking down at me, my cock twitched dumbly in my pants. "When you get those boots off just go ahead and strip naked and then wait right here for me. I'll be right back!" She said sternly. Looking back over her sexy shoulder after she had turned to walk away she added, "You had better be done when I get back here or there may be more hell to pay for than just being late!"

I watched her heart shaped ass sashay wickedly away drawing my attention to the thong back of her panties as she left. I quickly finished removing my remaining boot and then my clothes, which I folded neatly and stacked next to my boots, and stood there naked as a jaybird in our foyer-waiting for her to return, wondering, 'Where did she go; and why?'

My cock began to thicken as I watched her return. I began to step towards her and she stuck the riding crop into the middle of my chest, pushing me to stop and said, "Hold on there big boy weren't you supposed to wait right here for me to come back? Apparently you need to learn a little discipline." She circled around me, checking me out like she was shopping for livestock or something. She used her riding crop to lift my semi-hard cock, and then move my heavy balls first left and then right; inspecting me. She sniffed me and then rubbed my nipples with the riding crop, they immediately hardened and she flicked my buttocks-the sting made me flinch and the sound echoed in the foyer. She caressed my cheek with the end of her crop and looking me in the eyes said, "I'm not at all happy with you right now; being late and making me wait on you without so much as calling. You need to be punished, but first we need to clean you up. Follow me." She once again pivoted on those sexy heels and walked away, her swaying hips were hypnotic and I followed her to our bathroom. Along the way I decided to do whatever she wanted-to make up for being late, and not even try and make an excuse, if she wanted to be in charge; so be it, I would follow.

There were several pillar candles burning in the bathroom, lighting the room with a warm dancing golden light. "Shave, shower and do whatever it is you need to do to make yourself presentable, but be quick about it." I stepped into the shower and she caught the curtain with the handle of her leather riding crop as I began to pull it shut. "Oh no you don't. I'm going to be right here to make sure you at least get this right." she scolded as she leaned back against the vanity to supervise. My hardening erection belied my initial bashfulness at showering with an audience no matter how provocatively dressed she might be. I quickly lathered up and she poked at 'places I had missed' with her riding crop while she interjected her opinions about my progress. "There had better not be the slightest trace of soap left on that when you're finished" she said, as I lazily stroked the suds up and down my now very hard cock and as I was shaving she told me, "Do a good job with that, I don't want any chafing from your stubble later."

She handed me a pair of black silk boxer shorts when I finished drying off and said, "You can wear these for now. I will be in the living room; once you are done you may join me!" I stood there with the boxers in my hands and watched her leave, "Once I'm done?" I thought for a moment and then quickly trimmed my fingernails, brushed my teeth, splashed myself with aftershave and for some unknown reason decided to shave my testicles. I then slipped on the boxers, blew out the candles and headed off to rejoin my wife.

The living room was also aglow with the flickering glow of candlelight and she was sitting on the couch listening to some classical music slowly toying with the riding crop still in her hands. I was about to join her and had almost finished sitting down when she snapped, "Do you really think that making me wait on you any more today is a good idea at this point? I would like a glass of wine, be a dear and get one for me would you? You may get yourself a glass of water." She added icily,"We wouldn't want anything to interfere with your performance later, would we?"

"Okay" I replied as I stood up to get the drinks.

Thwack!! The crop landed squarely on my silk covered buttock, the initial sting was rapidly replaced by a warm tingling sensation. "That will be 'Yes my mistress' from now on, understand?"

"Sure" I said without thinking. Thwack!! She swatted the other cheek and I stammered, "Sorry, I meant...yes my mistress." The silk boxers offered little in the way of protection from the business end of her crop although they delightfully teased my bouncing erection as I went to the kitchen. I could feel warm welts where she had landed her blows, and I could also feel cool slippery moisture forming at the tip of my penis. I found it strange that my cock was more than a little swollen from all of this abuse. Perhaps it was years of subconscious fantasy on the brink of fulfillment or maybe it was the latent sexuality of my newly dominant wife, whichever it was mattered not to my stiff pecker, but my mind seemed to be in a minor state of shock. In the kitchen I poured her a nice glass of Cabernet and filled a tumbler with ice water for myself. I pulled the boxers down and tried to assess the damage to my butt, just two fairly square red welts glowing and tingling. They felt slightly swollen as I gently rubbed my fingers over them to try and soothe my wounds. My cock pushed at the fly of the boxers wanting back out as I pulled the boxers back up and headed back, drinks in hand.

Since I was barefoot she could not hear me returning. Through the doorway I could see her lightly dragging the strapped end of the crop up and down the inside of her thighs, from the top of one boot slowly up, then over her panty clad pussy and finally down to the other boot top. The contrast of the black leather boots, panties and crop against her deeply bronzed skin was breathtaking, especially the way the candlelight licked her legs with little golden highlights as it flickered laconically. The goose bumps covering her inner thighs caused little shadows from the candlelight and seemed to chase after the constantly moving leather crop. I was mesmerized; I unwittingly stopped and silently watched her tantalize herself, my cock throbbing. She languidly played with her left nipple while she traced invisible lines inside her luscious legs. I resumed walking after I had enjoyed watching five or six circuits of the riding crop on her skin and would have arrived unnoticed if it weren't for the clink of the ice cubes in my glass.

Her legs snapped together as she quickly released her nipple; sitting bolt upright her head spun to look directly at me. The mask made it difficult to see her beautiful blue eyes but they seemed to flash an angry red in the flickering candlelight. "That certainly took you long enough. Do you not get that I am not at all happy to be waiting on you any more tonight? And besides that I said that you could get yourself a glass of water, I said nothing about ice." she spat at me. I handed her the glass of wine astonished at being so berated upon my return. "You may sit beside me and rub my neck and shoulders." She added as I moved near her. She slid her hands up and under her shoulder length brown hair and quickly pulled it into a ponytail looping the elastic band of the mask around it to hold it up off of her shoulders. She jumped as I touched her and said,"Warm your hands up you oaf they're ice cold."

"Yes my mistress" I muttered meekly as I vigorously rubbed my hands together to warm them up and then I began to knead her neck and shoulders. I started at the base of her delicate neck and ran my thumbs up her spine to where her hair began and then rubbed firm circles back down towards her back with my thumbs. I worked my way all of the way down towards the top of her bustier and then followed its upper edge out to her shoulder blades before gently kneading my way upwards again. She took a long slow sip of her wine and let out a delighted little oohing noise as she tipped her chin forward to her beautiful bosom. I diligently rubbed, massaged and kneaded her neck, shoulders and upper back for a full fifteen minutes. She was relaxing beneath my attendant fingers. I slid my right hand around the top of her bustier to gently fondle her breast; I heard the wicked swish of the crop split the air and felt its sting on the back of my hand. Thwack!!

She turned towards me and staring directly into my eyes deliberately said, "Apparently I need to spell out the basic rules for you. You are now my slave. You will be humble, respectful and dutiful, or you will be punished. You will do whatever I bid you to do, or you will be punished. You will ask my permission prior to doing anything that I have not told you to do, or you will be punished. You will listen when I speak and speak only when you have been spoken to, or you will be punished. Do you understand these rules?"

"Yes my mistress" I replied as I dropped my eyes subserviently.

"Excellent! You may now resume what you were doing." She announced and flipped back around. Dunce that I am I misunderstood this to mean 'go about doing what you wanted to do' not 'get back to my massage'. Once again I traced the top of her bustier around towards her beckoning breast and once again felt the sting of the crop on my hand. Had she been practicing with it? She certainly seemed fairly adept at striking me with it with a well placed accuracy which I could not understand. "Did I tell you to maul my breast?" she asked.

"No my mistress you did not" I heard myself reply quietly.

"Did you ask my permission to paw at me in that way? Because if you had, and I certainly don't remember you're having asked, I would have briefly entertained the notion-prior to telling you no thank you, not right now." She sarcastically queried.

"No my mistress, I did not. I...just thought that when you said...get back to what I was doing, well...that is what I had been doing when you swatted me before." I argued. My mind was in a tumble, what was I doing?

She once again spun to face me, "Are you arguing with me? Are you seriously trying to rationalize your behavior just now?" she asked angrily. "I think it is definitely time for a little discipline for you mister, but what sort of punishment fits your crime?"

Half jokingly I replied, "Yes my mistress, I have been an inconsiderate lout and I deserve a spanking. I meant you no disrespect; it's just that you are so very sexy like this, and after watching you tease yourself with your crop while I was gone I figured that this was just a little fantasy role playing to, umm, enhance our pleasure." My shell shocked mind decided that this sounded like a pretty good explanation. I was kidding about the spanking but the black leather enticed me to follow that path; the rest of what I had said I honestly meant.

Apparently she was not in a joking mood because her tone rose as she said, "Cretin, who do you think you are to even begin to joke with me at a time like this. By agreeing to the rules you agreed to obey my will. This was never about enhancing 'our' pleasure. It is about teaching you a little bit of personal discipline; so that in the future you will be considerate enough of my feelings to call if you're going to be late, or you will pay attention-and actually listen to what I tell you, not hear what you want to hear. If I have to dress up in a sexy black leather get up and some freaky fetish boots just to get your attention-then so be it. But now that I have your attention we are going to go through with this and perhaps you will learn something. Now are you going to play along with this in the hopes of getting to fuck me tonight or do you want to stop now, argue about your insensitivity like we always do and not have a snowball's chance in hell of getting laid this week?"

I was stunned; I listened to her and watched her get red in the face the longer she talked. The silence was deafening when she finished and after a moments reflection I looked down at my feet and said, "Yes my mistress."

"Yes my mistress what?" was her acidic reply.

Inside I was steeling myself for whatever was to come next. She was very upset by a whole history of my behavior and my being late tonight without calling was merely the trigger that had caused the avalanche. She was using this dominatrix role as an attention getting maneuver to help me understand my behavioral transgressions and eventually modify my oafish behavior said the logical me inside my head. It's a win-win situation, she gets to deride you for being boorish, maybe cause you to be less boorish; while looking that sexy-and if it is turning her on anything at all like it is turning you on, you will get fucked silly later said the pervert who lives next to the logical me. So I said as evenly as possible, "Yes my mistress, I will abide by your rules and be the best possible slave that I can for you".

She said nothing for a moment or two. I tried to read her emotions through her eyes but the leather mask made that nearly impossible. Finally after an agonizing silent pause she softly said, "Very well then, for being late without calling your punishment will be ten quick lashes, for attempting to pleasure yourself by fondling my breast another five lashes, and for adding ice to your water without permission I will add one lash for every ice cube you stole. How many ice cubes are in your glass now?" she asked.

"There are six ice cubes in my glass my mistress." I told her after quickly counting the silvery floating cubes. Twenty one quick lashes, that didn't sound so bad if I said it really fast, of course not knowing what exactly a quick lash was helped to make it sound better.

"That is a total of twenty-one quick lashes." She carefully set down her half empty glass of Cabernet and stood up. She sauntered across the room, looking around as if she were surveying it-and halfway back; stopping next to the armchair. "Come over here" she commanded. I stood and quickly moved over to her, my pulse was beginning to race as I had no idea what to expect next and did not want to further fuel her anger by dawdling. "Turn and face the chair, good. Now bend over and put your forearms flat on the seat cushion." I bent at the waist and did as she commanded, my ass stuck up in the air. She slipped around and placed a quarter on the back of each of my hands before disappearing behind me. I felt her small smooth hands grasp the waist of my boxers, my stiff cock bounced in front of me. She tried to remove the silky drawers and the waistband caught my erection as she pulled down on the waistband, my cock bent towards the floor but prevented her from getting them too far down. She brusquely reached around and untangled my swollen cock from my boxers and then pushed them straight down to my ankles. I could feel her warm breath brushing against the hairs on the backs of my legs as she did this and goose-bumps immediately covered my naked legs. "Step out" she said and began gently slapping the insides of my thighs just above the knees, "Now spread your legs, further, a little further, okay stop there. Mmmm, yes! That's just how I want you."

She reached over, and slipping a cool smooth hand around my shaft continued, "It looks like part of you still thinks this is all about enhancing your pleasure. Well, we'll see if it thinks that way once we're done." She moved around to my side, lifted my chin so I was facing her and said, "I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt you more than it hurts me." Then while looking at my dripping cock added icily, "Keep the quarters on the backs of your hands and don't get anything on my chair." She slipped back behind me. I considered my current situation: my hard dripping cock bobbed in time with my pulse, my legs were spread a good four and a half feet apart and as a result my balls hung heavily; as exposed as they could ever possibly be, like a small very sensitive punching bag, and my normally conservative wife had become an angry dominatrix. Suddenly things seemed rather grim. While I was musing this over in my head she began to caress my exposed buttocks with the buttery soft straps at the end of her crop. It felt very good, the almost velvety texture tracing light abstract patterns on my white skin. "If for some reason you can't take it anymore and need me to stop just say Cincinnati, alright sweetie?"

Caught off guard I said, "Sure." The blood in my veins ran absolutely cold, the crop stopped moving and as I realized what I had just done I am pretty sure my skin flushed white with pallor as I stammered to add, "I...I'm sorry...I meant to say...Yes my mistress." The emotional rollercoaster was beginning to make a shambles of me and I caught myself thinking what does she mean if I can't take it anymore and need to stop? For heavens sake I'm twice her size and much stronger physically than most guys my age. And what's up with Cincinnati?

"I am going to let that one slide, but be forewarned I shall not remain so benign for long." I heard the swish as the crop sliced through the air and felt the sting as it found my rump. Oddly I heard the thwack of the leather slapping against my skin more as an echo removed from the quick stinging pain by a small sliver of time. Once again the stinging was quickly replaced by a sharp tingling like a bunch of hot needles pricking my skin where the crop had landed. Again she caressed me with the strap end, tracing five figure eights across my other ass cheek before swatting me on that cheek. She set up a rhythm of five traced designs followed by another lash and I felt myself beginning to tense my muscles in anticipation of the imminent slap of the crop to lessen the blow. So intent was I on paying attention to her tempo that I could barely comprehend her when she finally asked me, "How many lashes is that now my love?"

Oh shit, I had been so occupied with keeping her cadence in my head that I had lost track of the count. The moral calculations raced through my mind. I could lie, and make up a number but if she new the correct count that could lead to more trouble. Was this some sort of test? "I am very sorry; I do not know the count my mistress." I said as the legions of hot prickling needles buzzed away on my behind.

"That is most unfortunate for you. We will have to begin anew." She said stoically. "A good slave will keep count aloud to prevent something just such as this from happening." The smooth leather of the crop left my ass and the swish of it once again warned of the pain to follow.