Agnes was getting more at ease and confident controlling Jake's masturbation. She preferred to think of her actions, even the more risqué ones, as essential even if unpleasant elements in taming and controlling his animal urges. In her mind she often managed to find an ironic appropriateness that she was using those same urges and desires to keep them within tolerable bounds. She was reluctant to see her actions in terms of power and control, or to admit how much it excited her.
One measure of her ease with this new arrangement was giving Jake a "show". It had started almost by accident when she was supervising one of his masturbations and he was having a little trouble getting erect. She had taunted him about needing his pictures by asking if he needed to see her undergarments. He had said 'yes' and for reasons she wasn't even clear about she showed him, to a satisfactory result.
The price for one of these shows had been set as a switching with fresh cut birch branches. In order to keep after orgasm switching for more severe punishment, he had to pay for his show in advance. Asking for a show had become Jake's most common way of asking for permission to masturbate, as it was this evening.
"Do you think your work has been satisfactory?" Agnes asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered promptly.
"I agree, it has," she replied. "Very well, go get ready."
Jake was naked and bent over the dining room chair in no time. Agnes selected two medium thickness birch branches that had been soaking in brine for several days. They would be wonderfully flexible and provide a little extra snap at the end of each stroke.
As the first blow struck him right at the sweet spot where legs and buttocks meet, Jake grunted and Agnes began her lecture.
"I hope you understand and appreciate all the effort I put in to helping you control your animalistic urges."
"Yes, dear," Jake squeaked out quickly between rapid breathes.
"This is not easy for me. I didn't want to have to have anything to do with your baser needs. I certainly didn't want to parade around like a whore for you, while you...you know!"
The blows kept coming more rapidly and he had trouble getting out his "yes, dear" response.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? A grown man taking a beating just so you can see a woman's underwear?"
Jake was crying out in pain as each blow left a new red mark on his behind, and he had no other answer to Agnes' rhetorical question.
The tingling feeling between Agnes' legs had started but she didn't want to give in to it tonight. I have control over my urges, she thought with determination. With Jake's ass striped and red all over she suspended the switching and told him to come along to the bathroom.
He tried to sit down gently on the toilet seat, but he winced at even the slightest pressure. Agnes smiled a little, almost to herself. She liked the idea that he would put himself through so much. She stood just out of arm's reach of the toilet, still fully clothed in her house dress.
"May I touch myself?" he asked in what had become their custom. Agnes didn't always allow him to touch.
"You may, but no squirting until I say."
She unbuttoned the simple house dress and let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Her brassiere was white and completely opaque, and covered half her mid-drift. Agnes' breasts were not huge, but the stitching on the brassiere looked like it could easily restrain a mule. It was reinforced and held whatever might be put inside it slightly up and smoothly rounded. She ran her hands over the mounds as she had seen the women do in Jake's pictures, accenting their shape and size and then lifting a little at the bottom as if offering them.
Jake sat transfixed, his hand in automatic up and down motions. From where he sat the little smile looked seductive, just like his French pictures. From Agnes' side of the smile it was amazed amusement at how a few simple gestures were enough to make men lose their reason; and vindication that they all needed to be strictly controlled.
Her hands moved slowly down to her hips. A simple slip might have covered her brassiere and panties, but not today. The panties would normally have been covered by a foundation garment, or girdle, but out here on the farm it just wasn't comfortable or convenient for work. The girdle would also have held stockings up but again, there just wasn't a need. Instead, the heavy thick cotton panties had a waist band that went right up to her navel, leaving only an inch or two before the bottom of the brassiere started. The legs of the panties would only have needed a few more inches down the legs to appear the same as Jake's boxer shorts. But still they managed to make a little "v" between her legs. He thought he could barely make out a dark triangle in that "v". If only the panties weren't so thick!
Agnes had gotten a lot more comfortable with the ritual of posing for his "shows." She pulled the panties tight across her pubes and smoothly caressed her hip curves and then her mound. Slowly she pushed the waist band down until just the top of her thick dark bush showed. Jake's hand was picking up the pace. She swayed her hips rhythmically and watched his eyes follow her movement. She was reminded of the County Fair and the hypnotist who had that fellow entranced watching a small jewel on a chain swing back and forth.
