A Long Distance Commitment Ch 06

Monday Night

Could Reesa really 'spank me' long-distance by making me ask Jen for a bedtime spanking for today's playfulness at the office? If so, this will be humiliating since it's not my dream-girl, my best friend doing the spanking, but rather, my wife. And I know she won't take this task lightly. She doesn't know 'playful'. Shit.

But I don't want to disregard Reesa's sentiments. And she never asks much of me -- it's not like she's some kind of harsh punishment mistress. I'm going to trust her on this one, and if it turns Jen off and humiliates me altogether, well, I'll just have to chance it. I know how Jen is. And I've never tried such a tack with her. If I know her, she'll just get mad and send me to sleep on the couch. And of course, deny me any sex til she cools off. Dang. Oh well, here goes nothing.

So I did as Reesa asked me to -- I laid over the bed, jammies down, and told Jen the mostly fabricated story about Karla & I today.

Jen: "Why, you sly devil, you! You are just hoping for a sexy spanking, aren't you young man? Well, we will just have to see about that!"

She quickly grabbed a belt and four of my most expensive silk ties from our walk-in closet, and bound my hands, and securing them to the far-side bed frame. And noosed the 2nd tie around my balls, anchoring them to the near-side frame.

"Reality may be considerably more harsh than your little pee-pee's fantasy."

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom. And came out with a hot, soapy wash-cloth and bath brush. Generously washing & scouring my balls, penis and butt, she turned her attention to my mouth.

"Kissing Karla with that filthy mouth of yours? Don't you think you at least owed her a freshly cleaned set of lips, tongue and throat? Like this?"

And she proceeded to wash my mouth out with the warm soapy wash-cloth, making me gag several times. Then jamming it into my mouth one last time, and securing it as a gag with another silk tie. And lastly, blindfolding me with the last tie.

"So, you wanted a bedtime spanking and a little fantasy role-playing about your secretary, did you? And no doubt leading to some kind of perverted sex with your wife, I presume? Well, so shall you have it. But perhaps moreso than you thought. I am going to whip your ass like I should have years ago. I bet you didn't know that your little secretary friend Reesa begged me, and I mean begged me (!) to help beat you back then? So now you shall have that long overdue whipping. And your little made-up story today about that bitch Karla will be replaced by the real-world suggestion years ago by your all-time fav secretary & bestie, Reesa. I only wish she were here right now to see you and help me administer it. Wouldn't that be embarrassing? You thought you were such a stud back then, always trying to gain her attention -- do you think I didn't notice? And now here you are, bound and gagged by your wife, mouth washed out with soap, balls anchored immovably to the bed, and about to receive the whipping of your life. You're lucky she's a thousand miles away, or I'd call her right now. Imagine...

"Hello Reesa? Yeah, a voice from the past; it's Jen. How are you? What are you up to these days?"

"And you, Harold, would simply have to listen to an hours-worth of girl-talk while restrained by those nasty silk ties of yours."

Jen's imagined phone conversation continued:

"OMG, Reesa, I about forgot to tell you why I called -- silly me. I'm hoping for your help that you promised me years ago 'if I ever changed my mind'. And indeed I have. And it's pretty humorous even, he's right here, right now listening to me for this past hour. Actually he's bound and gagged, with his balls at the mercy of our cheaply manufactured bed. Why, I'm not even sure it could handle me or you jumping up and down on it, but it might be fun to try. And here he is, just waiting for your answer to my next question: Could you drop what you're doing and come help me beat the shit out of Harold and his useless little prick? I could have you on a flight in 4 hrs, and pick you up at the airport. You could stay the weekend... or for that matter, all week if you're free. And not to worry, Harold's not going anywhere -- he'll still be right here bound and waiting, won't you Harold? He can't talk right now, so let's assume he indeed will wait right here to see you. Oh good! You can? All week? Terrific! Ok, check your email shortly for your boarding pass. Oh, and do bring that darling little plaid school-girl outfit you used to like to wear to work. He always came home rev'd up and raring to go after those days. I could always tell which days you wore it. In fact, I bought an outfit like yours and kept it tucked away for those days. It even made me a little hot, to mimic you in it. I would have made a great secretary, don't you think? Maybe I will dig back through my wardrobe and see if I still have it. We could be like twins - just like his twin balls. LOL. One for each of us to kick."

"So what do you think, Harold? Should I call her for real? Is that terror I see in your eyes, dear? Why, I believe it is!"

Then she blistered my ass, 100 strokes of the bath brush. In her pajamas; not at all in her school-girl outfit. Eventually she removed the gag & soapy wash cloth, replacing it with her naked pussy to be eaten well.... 'or else'. I ate like there was no tomorrow, apparently without success; she moved around to my backside and delivered two nut-crunching kicks to my nads -- one from her, and one purportedly from Reesa. Damn.

Later in the night, Jen awoke from her orgasm-induced deep sleep, saying she might have mercy on me and release me. But only after making me admit aloud that she is in charge of our marriage, our bed, and my balls. And now, my office-life too.

"Say it, Harold. I rule your office-life too. I can't constantly be worrying about your little secretaries, can I?"

"No, dear. You rule my office-life too. No more joking around with my secretaries."

"Good boy. And so it shall be. Here's your first office assignment: Fire that little bitch first thing tomorrow!"

Dang.

"And one more thing, Harold: Let's do something that will benefit us both. Since you like laying over the bed, jammies down as a sign of submission, then so shall you have it -- every Wednesday night. And I like hearing those rules spoken out loud again and again. And so it shall be. Every Wednesday night. Some call this sort of thing Marriage Maintenance. But we'll call it your Mid-week Reminders, ok? Reminders of who's in charge around here now -- am I right? So do your best to try not to forget your fav bedtime position. And I will do my best to try not to forget to correct you for any misspoken rules. All errors & omissions will be punished promptly and suitably, depending on how far wrong you are. And, God forbid, If you forget to lay over my bedside some Wednesday night, I will assume you really just don't think that I deserve to rule you after all the crap you've pulled. Or maybe you think you're the office stud and are not to be told what to do there or how to behave. So if you fail to remember Mid-Week Reminders, I'll let it slide quietly, but then tackle it the next day in your office! That's right. I won't say anything at bedtime, but you'll suddenly remember when I show up at your office the next day. And don't even think about denying me access to your balls, or I will make a terrible scene about it within the hearing of your boss and staff. So when you see me there (and get over your shock), you will quickly close the door (if you want to, that is, lol) and lay over your desk with your pants off, feet spread and balls exposed. And wait for the inevitable. And these occasional Thursday 'sack-lunches', so to speak, will do the trick I'm quite sure. Your memory will improve almost instantly. That's my guess. Or don't you think I would do that to you, Harold? Do I need to mention the Saturday Night Chastity Club escapade? Or the chastity lead-up and wild sex -- all documented in my journal, with photos? Or maybe I could still sign us up for Membership trial-month at the club. Of course we'd have to restart from scratch, I realize that, but surely Mr. Owner wouldn't make you pay a late fee or penalty, would he? He seems like such a reasonable man, don't you think? And our previous Sponsor Karla surely would be glad to give it another go, right? What do you think, Harold? What might she require before another sponsor-invitation?

"Yes Miss Jen. I get your message loud and clear. You don't have to resort to any of that. Let's all keep our heads here. I won't forget Mid-Week Rules. Or Thursday Sack-Lunches, if need be. No Saturdays will be needed, dear. Not ever again."

"It's called Mid-Week Reminders, Harold, not Mid-Week Rules. Or maybe you don't like what I've called it. Is that it, Harold? You want to argue with my choice of terms? If so, you're off to a bad start, aren't you, Harold?"

"Yes Jen."

"Ok, that's one."

And with that, she confidently rolled over and went back to sleep, but not before shedding her remaining bed clothes and making me cuddle up to her backside, still being fully naked and hard, pulling my arm under hers to ensure I couldn't go jack off. And who can sleep with sore nuts and a hardon? I couldn't.

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