Please read the earlier chapters before you read this one. Otherwise, it won't make much sense. Also you'll find it a lot more erotic if you first understand who these characters are and where they are, physically and emotionally.
Naughty Hands
I was nervous at work the whole day thinking about what sort of punishment Jennie might have in store for me that night. I could hardly eat any supper because of the butterflies in my stomach. This did not go unnoticed by Jennie and she kept glancing at me all through the meal and evening with a self-satisfied grin.
Just before nine o'clock, Angie arrived.
So,
I thought,
they are going to double-team me.
I wasn't really surprised.
At precisely nine, Jennie told me to wait in my bedroom. Then she and Angie went to the kitchen. I sat on my bed and wondered what they could possibly need from the kitchen. Suddenly, memories of Literotica stories that involved spankings with spatulas and big wooden mixing spoons came back to me, and my stomach did a flip.
Seconds later they came into the room and to my relief Jennie was carrying only our oven mitts. Angie had only our kitchen timer, which she put on my dresser.
"First, put these on," Jennie instructed as she handed the mitts to me. As I took them from her, I could see that she or Angie had attached a plastic scouring pad to the palm of each mitt with safety pins.
"What are these for?" I asked.
"These are your
naughty hands
mittens," Jennie explained. "I had a friend who worked in a home for the severely retarded. Some of the patients would masturbate all day if they weren't restrained. So the staff would put these thick mittens with a rough surface on their hands. It hurt them to rub themselves, so the mittens effectively prevented them from masturbating. You are going to wear these for the remainder of the night for the same reason."
"I'm not mentally disabled, Jennie!" I protested. "This is outrageous. I'm not putting these on."
"Suit yourself," she replied calmly, "but we'll just have to tell Mr. Daniels about your disobedience."
"Damn it, Jennie!" I said, gritting my teeth in fury, but I wasn't going to risk harming my new relationship with Mickey. He had apparently told Jennie that she could punish me in any way that she wanted. Muttering angrily, I put on the mitts.
At that moment, we heard the clicking of our front door knocker.
"That must be Robby," Jennie said as she headed for the door.
"Robby? But you broke up with Robby months ago. Why is he here?"
"I ran into him the other day and invited him over to watch a DVD," she explained over her shoulder as she continued walking across the living room.
"Wait," I protested. "You're going to send him away, right?"
She stopped and turned back toward me with her hands on her hips. "Now why should I cancel an invitation just because you can't keep from touching yourself?"
"Well, then," I retreated to a second suggestion, "You two are going postpone my punishment for another time, right? I mean you're not going to go through with it while he's in the apartment?"
"And why shouldn't we?" Angie asked as if what I'd just requested was an outrageous favor. "You should have thought about all the potential consequences when you broke Mr. Daniels' instruction. Now you're just going to have to deal with the situation."
We heard the knocker again.
"Just a moment!" Jennie called out to the unseen Robby on the other side of the door, and then turned her attention back to me.
"Look, he won't actually see your punishment, if that's what's got you worried," she explained. "We'll do that in your bedroom while he waits out here. But, mind you, this is a favor I'm doing you that you really don't deserve."
With that, she walked to the door, but then she seemed to get an idea and paused just as she grasped the doorknob. After thinking a moment, she turned back toward me and a wicked grin sliced her face. "But," she said smiling, "I'm going to make it part of your punishment that you have to tell Robby the truth if he asks you any questions. If you don't, I'll tell Mr. Daniels that you disobeyed."
With that, she flung open the door and Robby strode in with a six-pack of beer under his arm.
He was 25, tall, dark-haired, and medium build. If you overlooked an ill-advised soul patch on his chin, he wasn't bad looking, which was Jennie's main criterion in boyfriend selection; but he was crude, even by her not too refined standards, and she'd broken up with him after only a month of dating. She hadn't mentioned him in months, so I wondered why she hadn't invited her current boyfriend. She'd described the new man to me, but I'd yet to meet him.
"Hi ya, Soo May!" Robby exclaimed, "Long time, no see!" Robby had never learned the difference between his indoor voice and his outdoor voice.
"Hello, Robby," I said nervously trying to think of a way to get out of the room before he could ask me any questions. An idea quickly came to me.
"Why don't I take those beers to the fridge while you start the DVD?" I asked, reaching out my hands to take the six-pack from him.
βthe hands that had oven mitts on them.
βthe oven mitts that had scouring pads safety-pinned to the palms.
Damn!
I thought.
&^%$#@ mittens! I forgot I was wearing them.
Robby frowned in puzzlement at the mittens as he handed me the beers.
"So," he asked, "what are you baking?"
"Baking? ... um," I stammered, "... uh ... nothing." I grabbed the beers and dashed for the kitchen door before he could ask another question. As I passed by Angie, I saw her smirking at me.
I put the beers in the refrigerator. Now I had to go back out to the living room and get to my bedroom before Robby could ask a question that I didn't want to answer. I opened the kitchen door a crack and peeked. He was bent over inserting the DVD into the player. This was my chance. Walking fast, with my hands behind my back, I made a beeline for my bedroom door. I was just 10 feet short of it when I heard Robby's voice.
"So, what are cooking for us, Soo May?" he asked.
I stopped. "Cooking?"
"Yes," he explained, "You're wearing oven mitts and you said you're not baking anything, so what are you cooking?"
"Um ... well ... you know ... I haven't really decided what to cook yet."
"Then why are you already wearing oven mitts?" he persisted, "I mean if you don't what you're going to cook, then you don't know if you need them. And by the way, what's that fastened to the mitts? Are those scouring pads?"
&^%$#@!
I thought.
He's asked me a direct question and Jennie will tell Mickey that I disobeyed if I don't tell the truth.
"[sigh] ... Yes, they are scouring pads," I admitted.
He looked puzzled again, and then looked back and forth between Jennie, Angie, and me a few times before finally stopping again at me. "What's going on here?" he asked.
I sighed again and looked down, trying to hide my face as I answered. "These are ... uh ... naughty hands mittens. They ... uh ... prevent the person who's wearing them from ... uh ...," my voice dropped to a whisper, "... playing with themselves."
There was a long silence. Robby, who was not the swiftest boat in the stream, blinked uncomprehendingly several times, his mouth open and his brow furrowed as he attempted to process what I'd just said.
"But ...," he said slowly, "... you mean that ... no, you couldn't mean ... that is ... but why would
you
... um ... that is ... ." His face slowly turned toward Jennie and he raised one eyebrow β a request for enlightenment.
She smiled and slowly nodded her head in the affirmative. Her meaning was unmistakable, even to Robby.
Yes,