AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is written in first-person subjective narration format. Most first-person narration stories involve an *objective* narrator, who describes events as they actually happen (but of course, the concept of "actuality" depends on acceptance of objective reality). In this story (as with most of mine) the narrator is highly subjective. She is a 19-year-old narcissist; her ways of acting, and speaking, reflect her immaturity, and the narrative style encodes those aspects of her character, because *she* is telling the story, in her own words. What you see on the page is essentially a transliteration of her conversational style, as though it were a transcript of an audio recording.
Readers used to an objective first-person narrator may be thrown off balance by this device. For example, the profuse inclusion of transliterated forms of her laughter is done deliberately. It is not like the literary analogue to improvisational jazz; it is more like musicians performing a composer's interpretation of a garage band jam... *meant* to sound like a garage band jam, yet precisely encoded in sheet music.
If you compare my story "Yes Miss Murphy" to this one, you may be initially surprised that they were penned by the same person. That is because the subjective narrator there is a completely different type of character. He is 48, male, professional, intelligent, articulate, with no particular personality disorders or serious moral flaws (at least initially). And through his narration, we understand all that about him, whereas through Mandy's narration in this story, we understand a lot about her personality and character.
With that, let's let Mandy get back to her story (that is, if we can stand listening to her).
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"You never need nobody.
You've never been alone.
And I try to get your affection,
And all I ever do is wrong."
-- The Lone Bellow
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One night the next week, when Davey got home from work I asked him to make us something for dinner. As we ate, I said, "Davey. You have a been a very good boy all week. You've been doing so well following all the rules. I want to unlock you tonight and let you squirt your little peepee and make you eat up your slimy goo. But the thing is, the key is over at Jenna's, and I want you to call her and ask for her permission to have your little penis cage unlocked."
Hahaha! I was testing him to see if he would show any resistance to having to humiliate himself again in front of Jenna. This would be worse. Last time the unlocking was a done deal; he just needed to thank her. This time he would have to ask her for permission. Hahaha! Soooo ridiculous! Ask your wife's girlfriend if it's OK for your wife to allow you an ejaculation and then have to eat your own cum. Hahahaha! Ohhhhh my god. We are just EVIL.
"I'm gonna trust you to use the right words when you talk to her. Don't disappoint me. I'm dialing the number." I put the phone on speaker and set it between us. He was the perfect little wimp, very respectfully asking her permission, and speaking of his "little peepee" and "slimy goo". She grilled him about the rules we'd set so far, including never asking wifey to be unlocked, never even dropping hints, always doing only what wifey wanted to do sexually, never trying to kiss or touch wifey, and never trying to start a conversation with wifey. Had he been a good boy and followed all those rules faithfully? He very earnestly promised her that he had.
"Welllll..." she said, "It does indeed sound like you've been a good boy .... so... I suppose if Mandy doesn't mind, then yes, you can squirt your little peepee tonight and eat up all your slimy goo."
He dutifully thanked her, and I told him that while he cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes, I would go over to Jenna's and get the key. I told him to go ahead and get naked before he started those chores. "I will probably stay and hang out with her for a little while," I said, "so once you finish in the kitchen, you should really give the bathroom a good cleaning. I've been meaning to get to that today, but I was over at Jenna's too long. The tub and shower walls need scouring, the toilet needs cleaned, and the sink, too. Oh, and the floor needs swept and mopped. Remember, go ahead and get naked before you do all your chores. Actually, you know what? As long as you're sweeping and mopping the bathroom floor, this kitchen floor could use it, too. And over here in front of the door.
"I'll be back in ... I don't know, a couple hours. If you get done with all that, and I'm not back yet, just wait. Don't call and pester-- ... oh ... you know what, that reminds me. New rule: You're not allowed to call or text me anymore, unless it's an emergency. Just like you can't start a conversation with me in person. And just in case you get to thinking notes are OK, you can't write me notes, either. OK. See you in a bit."
I stayed away for three hours, which gave Jenna and me some excellent playtime. She punished me real good for being such a bad, BAAAD girl, and I told her to please try and leave some marks on me from her whips, and paddles, and riding crops. When I left, she sent a little toy with me to use on hubby. It was a little thing about three inches long intended for hemorrhoids. You put it in the freezer, and then stick it up your butt. It was only about as big around as a finger, so it wasn't like a dildo, or a buttplug. But we thought it would be an excellent little starter, to get hubby used to taking something up his ass. Hahaha.
When I got home, hubby was naked on the couch watching TV. He sat up, as I came in the door, and said, "Hi." He was trying very hard not to express his impatience with me at having been gone so long.
I glanced at him but said nothing, as I closed the door, and took off my coat. I said, "You know.... when you say 'hi' to me before I've said anything to you, that's like... thiiiiis close... to trying to start a conversation. Don't you think? I don't see a whole lot of difference."
He sighed and slumped his shoulders. He was getting so exasperated from trying to follow all the ridiculous rules so his wife would be happy, and it seemed like no matter what he did, she acted like a heartless bitch. Well... what can I say, he was getting to know me, hahaha! But he wasn't gonna dare to talk back to me, when I just came home with the key to his dick.
I said, "I assume since you're sitting there, you got all your chores done. Let me take a look. You stay there." I inspected his work in the kitchen, and in the bathroom. It looked fine. I returned to him and said, "So... do you think just plopping your naked ass on my couch because you finished your chores is the best way to show me how appreciative you are for me running across town to get your little penis cage key?"
"I'm sorry," he said, immediately rising from the couch and standing up. "Um... is it OK to ask... um... what I ... what I should.... do? What I should have been doing?"
"Yes, you may ask that. That shows wanting to be more obedient, and please your wife." I let the word "obedient" hang in the air a moment, and hoped I hadn't gone a little too far for him to handle. He just nodded, and hung his head a little, like he was bowing, almost. "Well... let's see... did you try to think of some other housework that might need done around here, so you could help me out? Like, did you look in the dryer to see if there were dry clothes to fold and put away?"
