Never Enough

Chapter Five - The week of punishment begins

I didn't know it yet, but the arrangement that Stephen made with Benjamin O'Reilly would last for nearly three years. And for all that time, you could say that I had two masters: My husband Stephen, who was my owner. And Benjamin, who was my boss in work, but who had special permission from Stephen to discipline me as he saw fit.

But before I tell you about that, let me first tell you about the very first week of this new arrangement.

I remember going to bed on the Sunday night, in my little nightie, cuddled up with Stephen. His strong arms were wrapped around me, and I could feel his chest moving as he breathed. This was normally a blissfully comforting place to be, but my heart was beating fast as I thought about the prospect of seeing Benjamin the next day, and what he might do to me. I would also be wearing a reasonably short dress that Stephen had already picked out for me, with no knickers on underneath.

But, in contrast to the nerves I felt, it had been, in many ways, a wonderful weekend.

After the extraordinary events of Friday evening - when I'd been stripped and spanked by Benjamin, made an emotional confession to Stephen, and then been caned by him on my already spanked bottom - we actually felt closer than ever before.

I'd had it brought home to me that not being 100% honest with Stephen was to risk losing him, and I couldn't bear the thought of that. He was - and still is - the only man I've ever truly loved, and no one has ever owned me as fully as he does.

So for the whole weekend I'd been very eager to please him, and to be as close to him as possible - both emotionally and physically.

I'd woken up before him on the Saturday morning, and lain there wanting to wake him up in the hope that he would want to have sex with me, and I must admit that I did start to touch myself - but only for a moment, because I felt that I probably wasn't allowed.

So instead, I'd got up quietly and gone and prepared a nice breakfast for him which I brought up on a tray, and to my delight he had woken up and given me a broad smile as I came in carrying it.

We'd eaten together in bed, and sipped our coffees, and actually just chatted about normal stuff - the plans for the day, which included meeting up with some friends that evening for someone's birthday drinks.

Once we'd finished, I moved the tray and then, smiling, I climbed onto him, straddling him so that I could kiss him.

He kissed me back with loving, sensual kisses, long and slow, and as he did so, his hands moved up the backs of my thighs to the bottom of my tiny little nightie, and then kept going.

I let out a little groan of pleasure as he caressed my bottom, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheeks and my cleft, and the still sore welts from my caning the night before.

His touch was very delicate, but my bottom was so sensitive from my punishment that it made me catch my breath. And the fact that he'd punished me so severely that I was this sore the morning after made my pussy tingle. I longed for his fingers to wander there.

And that was when, in between kisses, he told me the nature of the punishment I was to have every day for the week ahead:

A morning spanking

A bedtime spanking

No orgasms

The only sex I was allowed was anal sex

Good behaviour would earn me some fingering, but I had to wear the nipple clamps throughout.

He told me all this as we kissed, and my stomach flipped with each one. I was so unbelievably turned on by the cruelty of it.

"But," I'd said, withdrawing from him for a moment to look into his face. We were too close for me to be able to focus on his eyes properly, but I could see that there was a twinkle in them. He was obviously going to enjoy my week-long punishment a lot.

"But..." I said again. "You won't give me a morning spanking this morning surely? Will you...?"

"I told you," he said. "Every morning."

And with that, he effortlessly tossed me over his lap, pulled up my flimsy little nightie, and set about spanking me.

I gasped in shock, and then squealed in pain as his big hand smacked my poor bottom over and over, bringing back all the burning and stinging from my caning.

"OH OH OH OH GOD!" I wailed urgently. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me.

He spanked me continuously, quite hard, for perhaps a minute - although it felt like so much longer. And when he stopped, I was breathing hard, and groaning with arousal.

He stroked my bottom softly, patting it consolingly, and murmuring "Poor baby," and "You've been such a good girl taking your punishment," and so many other little sympathetic phrases that I made little whimpering noises of longing as his fingers strayed so close to my pussy over and over.

"Oh Stephen," I said plaintively. "Please will you touch me? My pussy really needs to be touched."

"Like this?" he asked, and he slipped his fingertips between my engorged pussy lips and played with my slick juices, circling my wet opening, slowly and soothingly. It was maddeningly and intensely pleasurable, and I was like putty in his hands as I moaned and purred and pleaded for more, gyrating my hips against his strong thigh, trying to get his fingers inside me.

He moved his fingers up to my clitoris, spreading my wetness there, back and forth between there and my tight little hole, and I was in heaven. A tortuous heaven where I wanted him to do it to me forever, but I also needed so much more. I needed those big fingers inside me so badly.

But instead of getting what I needed, he did what he wanted - which of course is exactly how it should be as my owner.

His fingers moved now to my anus, using my juices to make that slick and lubricated too, and I pushed back against his fingers despite myself.

It turned out that I was willing to have his fingers inside me anywhere I could get them.

One finger pushed into my bum and I groaned, arching my back to let it slide further in, which he did - inserting his whole finger up into me, and then two fingers. It was so tight, and so degrading in the most deliciously erotic way, as he slowly fucked me like that - my pussy completely ignored now even though it was crying out for attention.

And then, with his thumb outside me, and his fingers deep inside me, and his arm under my hips, he lifted me up and placed me next to him, over the side of the bed, so that he could stand up - never taking his fingers out of me.

He was only wearing pyjama bottoms, and these he rid himself of easily with one hand, and as I watched over my shoulder, his enormous cock sprang up.

Remembering his words, I knew that that was going to be up my bum, and I quaked a little because it looked far too big to fit.

But I knew from experience that it would.

We have a bottle of lube always on the bedside table, and he used it now - still with his fingers inside me - to cover his bell end with it, and I was mesmerised at the sight of his manly hand touching himself. I've always found that an incredible turn on.

And then his fingers slid out of me, to be replaced immediately by that huge bell end, pushing forcefully against my anus.

I had the moment of apprehension as it felt like my anus wouldn't take it, trying to relax my sphincter muscle as the widest part of him slid into me, and I gasped at the flash of pain before it accepted him, and now my bottom was being filled up with it - inexorably, unstoppably - until I think my eyes and mouth were wide with surprise at just how big he felt in my tight little bottom, my sphincter stretched around his large girth, and now his entire cock up inside me.

It felt pleasurable in an aching, deeply erotic sort of way. I don't know if other women can come from anal sex, but I can't - it just keeps me in a constant state of unfulfilled longing. I want it to never stop, but I also know that it will never take me to a climax.

And the whole time he was slowly but powerfully fucking my bottom, I craved stimulation to my poor ignored pussy. The only scant pleasure it got was his balls slapping against it as he fucked me up the arse with short hard thrusts.

My nightie was pulled right up, but obviously not enough for Stephen's tastes because he now stopped fucking me briefly while he leaned forward and pulled it up higher still until it slid under my breasts, catching on my hard nipples, and was gathered round my neck.

Then he grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back, holding both my wrists together with one hand, pinned to my back.

And then gripping my hip with his other hand, he continued to fuck me.

This extra element of degradation had a powerful effect on me - I was insanely turned on now as he took what he wanted from me, with no thought to my comfort, my bum cheeks stinging intensely from my spanking.

When he came inside me, his cock at its maximum size and hardness, I felt like I nearly orgasmed too. But of course I hadn't - my pussy was more desperate to be filled than ever, only experiencing what it craved vicariously from next door.

Stephen slumped forward over me for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly withdrawing himself from me, and letting go of my wrists.

"Come here," he told me, standing behind me and beckoning.

And so I got up and turned around and let him draw me in for a wonderful hug. I melted my body against him - the firm muscles of his torso against me - his cock, only semi-hard now, against my pubis - and I ran my hands down his back and over his sexy athletic bottom.

My own bottom was burning from my punishment, and I could still feel him inside me.

That was the start to my Saturday.

--

We spent the day pottering - tidying and cleaning the house - a bit of DIY - and then having a big clothes sort out.

I was wearing a short little summer dress - white and flowery - with nothing underneath. I certainly didn't want to be wearing knickers when my bottom was so sore.

I was constantly, distractingly, horny - but since Stephen was nicely satisfied, he was just in "busy" mode and gave no heed to my sexual frustration despite being fully aware of it.

We had all our clothes out on the bed, and Stephen had made a big pile of shirts he didn't wear any more. I had lots of stuff to get rid of as well, and together we filled 3 bin bags full of stuff for the charity shop!

He then got me to tip out all my underwear on the bed too. Any knickers that were remotely normal or modest he put in the charity bag, leaving only the tiniest, skimpiest little things I owned.

These he then picked up and told me he was confiscating for the week, taking them out of the room somewhere - I had no idea where.

Next was my bras. I discarded ones which no longer fitted properly, and Stephen discarded a couple that he didn't find sexy, leaving only 4 bras. These he put into a paper bag and told me to stash in my work bag for Monday. They were to be given to Benjamin for the week.

And so it was that my underwear drawers were now completely empty, and I officially had no underwear to put on. All part of my punishment. I really was being made to pay for being dishonest to Stephen, and even though I knew I'd done a very bad thing, this particular part of my punishment did feel unfair to me.

My fear was that last week Benjamin had explicitly punished me for not wearing underwear in work. And now I had had all my knickers and bras confiscated, and Benjamin knew that. Surely he wouldn't punish me for it, when it was him and my husband who had arranged it?

It was impossible to be sure, and the niggling doubt was constantly there.

Although I was very very turned on by the idea of both Stephen and Benjamin having the right to dominate and discipline me, I was also extremely nervous about it. Stephen was someone I loved and trusted. But Benjamin was an unknown - I had no idea what he might do to me.

And on top of that, there was a very real fear of the pain I might be subjected to over the next 7 days. My bottom was already super sore, and I was already dreading my bedtime spanking. In fact, I realised, including tomorrow's spankings, and my morning spanking on Monday, I had 4 more spankings between now and going into work to face Benjamin.

This realisation stopped me in my tracks, and brought colour to my cheeks, and a powerful rush of arousal to my pussy that stayed for most of the afternoon.

--

On the Saturday evening, we were going out for Gary's birthday - an old school mate of Stephen's. His wife was Laura, and we were all great friends. The only other people I'd know would be Tom and Caroline - both of whom Stephen had been to school with - and I liked them too, although Tom was a bit standoffish I always thought. I could never quite read him, and he made me slightly nervous as a result.

We were getting ready to go out. I'd showered again, and done my hair and make-up, and put on a loose maxi dress. I looked lovely, though I say so myself.

But when Stephen strolled into the room, fresh from the shower wrapped in a towel, he said:

"You look absolutely beautiful Jen, but that's not the dress I want you to wear."

"Oh?" I was a bit annoyed, but of course I acquiesced to what he wanted. "Which one should I wear?"

He went to the wardrobe, flicked through the hangers, and then brought out a figure hugging backless black dress that I'd had for years. I'd worn it on my first date with Stephen, and he loved it.

It was short - but not indecently so. The raciest thing about it was its plunging back which stopped only just short of exposing the top of my buttock cleft, and the fact it left the sides of my breasts exposed.

He came over to me with it and laid it, still on its hanger, on the bed. Then he helped me out of my pretty and comfortable maxidress, rendering me naked in my high heels.

He tossed it onto the bed, and then with his hands on my hips, he pulled me to him to kiss me. He was still damp from the shower, and his skin was cool against my breasts and tummy as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I wrapped one leg around his as if we were dancing an Argentine tango, and let my supple feminine body mould itself to his, my pussy pressed against his thigh.

"Mmmmm," he smiled, enjoying the sensation, and his hand moved down to my bottom to guide my movements, as I grinded and gyrated against him.

His other hand was on the back of my head, controlling that too as his tongue moved inside my mouth.

I spent the next 5 minutes on my knees, his hand still on the back of my head, my mouth and throat absolutely full of his cock.

--

The bar was only a 15 minute walk away, and it was a beautiful summer's evening. I was wearing my favourite high heels. There wasn't much to them, but what there was was silver and sparkly, and they were as high as I could wear and still walk normally - they made my bare legs look even longer.

The dress was even more insubstantial than I'd remembered, and I felt very sexy in it. I just hoped I wasn't too much - Laura wasn't a particularly glam dresser.

Another thing I'd forgotten about the dress was that it was quite rough on the inside which tickled and teased my sore bottom.

In my horny state, intensified still further by having Stephen's cock in my mouth just before we left, my pussy was very aroused and sensitive, and even just the movement of walking was turning me on. That, and the breeze between my legs.

But the thing that I was most aware of, above all else, was the constant pain in my nipples. Just as we were about to go out the door, Stephen had surprised me by slipping the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, pulling my dress down to expose my breasts, and then taking my nipple clamps out of his pocket.

Oh god I hated the nipple clamps. And the fact that he was going to make me wear them in public was crazily arousing.

"I did say that you would be allowed fingering as long as you wore the nipple clamps, didn't I," he said.

"Yes," I agreed, biting my lip and looking at him dolefully.

"And you did get fingered this morning didn't you," he added.

"Yes," I said, remembering how beautiful it had felt and wishing that he was doing it to me now, instead of putting those hellish things onto my nipples, which were now treacherously making themselves super hard.

"Good," Stephen smiled. "Then we can make up for that now can't we."

As the first one went on, I sucked air through my teeth. "Ow ow ow," I whimpered.

Ignoring me, he took my other nipple between his finger and thumb and attached the other clamp.

I padded from foot to foot, as if somehow my wriggling would lessen the pain.

The clamps were connected by a delicate gold chain, and he tugged sharply on it to test that the clamps were securely attached, which had the effect of me exclaiming "Aahhhhhh" as my poor sensitive nipples were tortured even more.

Then he'd pulled my dress back up, and pulled the spaghetti straps back onto my shoulders, and smiling at me with a twinkle in his eye, he'd run his thumb along my bottom lip with his fingers under my chin, kissed me, and then announced it was time to go.

Before I followed him out the door, I'd quickly adjusted my breasts, wincing at the way the rough interior of the dress rubbed against my squeezed nipples, and then wrapped my silver feather boa round my neck, carefully positioning it to cover the obvious shapes of the clamps under the thin material of the dress.

And now here I was, heading out for the evening, somehow expected to interact socially with people while keeping the fact I was wearing nipple clamps hidden.

Luckily, the pain had dulled a little - I think I'd gone slightly numb in the 5 minutes I'd been wearing them.

That's why it was particularly cruel, I thought, that just before we walked into the bar, Stephen took hold of the front of my dress, finding the little chain through the material, and gave it three quick yanks.

"Ohhhhhh!!!!!" I cried out, and with the pain renewed, he led me into the busy throng of people.

--

I was glad when I saw that Laura and Caroline were both wearing dresses and looking a bit dolled up, but my dress was definitely the smallest.

We greeted each other with kisses on cheeks and lots of smiles, but my smile was somewhat forced what with the discomfort I was in, and the fear that my boa would slip aside and expose the obvious shape of the nipple clamps under the thin material.

I noticed Tom eyeing me up a lot, which made me a bit self conscious. Probably other men in the bar were too, but it was easier to ignore that.

Tom's gaze frequently strayed to my chest - no doubt hoping that I'd take my feather boa off at some point - and sometimes he would look me up and down, taking in my long bare legs and the curve of my hips under the figure hugging little dress.

But aside from all of those things, it was nice to be out and having a drink - the latter helping with my nerves quite a lot.

Gary seemed to be having a lovely time for his birthday and I suspected that he'd been drinking for a while beforehand.

I think we'd been there for maybe 20 minutes when Stephen leaned in close to my ear and said: "Join me at the bar in a couple of minutes."

And then, publicly he announced he was buying a round.

After checking that everyone wanted the same again, he strode off to the busy bar, which was two or three people deep.

As I'd been instructed, I left it a short while and then told everyone I was going to help Stephen with the drinks, and headed over to where he'd now actually got a spot at the bar. Gripping my feather boa tight, I jostled my way through, people tutting as they grudgingly let me through, and managed to slip in beside Stephen.

He smiled at me.

"Good girl," he said. "I've decided that the clamps can come off now," he added.

"Oh, thank you," I smiled, hugely relieved.