Think Carefully 17

Rule Seven

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ Note: This is the seventeenth installment of this story. If you have not read the earlier chapters, this one will make more sense to you if you do. The opener can be found here: Think Carefully. }

We spent last weekend supporting Gloria’s new crusade to address the orgasm imbalance between the sexes. What a weekend it was. I lived most of it naked but for the blue plastic surrounding my cock, and Gloria took every opportunity to arouse, tease, and embarrass me. But my lower extremities were not the only parts of my body constantly abused. Before the weekend was over, I suffered from cramps in my jaw muscles and my tongue, strained giving Gloria the many orgasms fundamental to her campaign.

I’ve rarely objected to going down on Gloria. Actually, I enjoy bringing her to orgasm that way because she enjoys it so much. I have objected on those occasions where there was a fresh cream pie for me to cleanup. That, I don’t enjoy. But with me locked away—unable to whip up a pie in the first place—it was not an issue. Still, there can be too much of a good thing. Even Gloria’s pussy must have grown tender after all the contact with my rough tongue.

Going to church Sunday morning seemed a special blessing, since I was allowed pants before leaving the house. Not just pants, of course, but pants seemed the most important, under the circumstances. Unfortunately, the respite was short-lived. I was barely back in the door of our home when the command came to “Strip,” and the relentless teasing resumed.

It came as a major relief when Gloria unlocked and removed the chastity device enclosing my privates Monday morning as promised. Funny, I’d worn it less than three days, but I spent half of Monday at work acutely aware it was gone. In its absence—with access to my cock restored—I was tempted to relieve myself in the men’s room. Severely tempted. After a weekend of non-stop teasing with no way for my cock to stiffen, I now had a perpetual boner. I needed relief.

I kept myself from wanking one off until the temptation subsided, but it was a near thing. To give in would have violated rule number seven and earned me a serious spanking, if Gloria found out, but that wasn’t the primary reason I didn’t do it. The real reason was I did not want to disappoint my wife. Silly? Perhaps. Before Gloria posted her rules, I masturbated frequently with very little sense of guilt. Now, even doing it once would seem like a major breach of her trust. Go figure.

So, I started the week with two major goals. First, score as many fives for my chores as possible. (I’ve grown to fear Gloria’s hairbrush.) Second, get laid.

I raised the subject over dinner Monday night. “Interested in a little old-fashioned intercourse this evening? After our weekend of teasing, I am more than ready.”

“I bet you are,” Gloria said with a grin. “You are probably pretty desperate to dip your wick. I, on the other hand, am way over my quota for orgasms. You were wonderful these past few days—a good sport and a terrific lover. Thank you for playing the chastity game with me. Now, my body is desperate for time to recover. Let’s have this conversation again Wednesday evening, and we’ll see whether I am ready.

“So, how did you do today? Did you miss the feel of little blue constraining your member?”

“Little blue? I didn’t realize we’d named your chastity cage.”

“We hadn’t. It just came to me. Appropriate, though, don’t you think?”

“I guess. In answer to your question, I was very conscious of its absence. Not sad about it, you understand. Just conscious. I was tempted to celebrate but resisted.”

“Good boy. I will know if you cheat on me.”

“Cheat on you? I would never cheat on you. Surely you know that.”

“Not with another woman, but with your clenched right fist. I guarantee I will be able to tell if you take pleasure without me.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” I said. Would she be able to tell? I wondered. Probably. Women seem to have this superpower, enabling them to discern breaches in trust. “But I’ve got to tell you it is not easy keeping my promise after the teasing you gave me over the weekend.”

“I know, baby,” Gloria said. “That’s part of the fun. The game of chastity is not over the minute I remove your cage. It’s never over until I decide it’s over. Don’t worry,” she added when she saw the look of concern on my face, “I will not cut you off forever. Not yet anyway.”

“Not yet? What does that mean?”

“Probably nothing,” she said. “Don’t concern yourself.”

That’s where the topic ended Monday evening. More than a little unsettling, but I realized she couldn’t cut me off forever without doing the same to herself. True, she could rely on my tongue, but Gloria has always enjoyed a good traditional fuck. There’s no chance she would give that up.

I had a huge boner when we went to bed that night. Gloria saw it and snickered, but said nothing, and offered no relief.

I got through Tuesday okay. There was a minor crisis at work (One of our managers seems to thrive on them.), which made for a good distraction. I did not raise the subject that night, not wanting to queer the deal for Wednesday, but Gloria caught me looking longingly at her a time or two.

We’d barely sat down to dinner Wednesday night, when Gloria looked at me and said with a smirk, “I can tell what’s on your mind, baby. and someone needs a good bottom warming tonight at bedtime.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” I protested. “Monday, you said we would have sex tonight.”

“That’s not what I said, was it?”

“Perhaps not, but you implied my chances were good.”

“And so they are, though I should mention if badgered, I’m bound to get out of the mood. I might even develop a headache.”

I raised my hands, indicating I was stopping, leaving the topic for now.

‘Bottom warming,’ I thought. Sounds encouraging. I don’t need a spanking as foreplay tonight. Hell, a slight nod of her head would be more than enough foreplay for me. But if it leads to me getting my rocks off, I’m for it.

“Well, I’m for bed,” I announced a couple hours later (a good half-hour earlier than usual). I’d been extra diligent in doing the post-meal cleanup of the kitchen, taking as much time as possible and trying to keep my mind off the fun to come. I was in serious danger of popping off with the slightest brush of the kitchen counter against my groin.

“A little early, isn’t it?” Gloria said, laughter in her voice.

“Well, you know,” I said.

“Yes, I know. Tell you what,” she said. “Let’s pretend you have been a very bad boy. Go up to our room, take off all your clothes, and stand naked with your nose in the corner. I’ll be up to take care of you in a little while.”

I hate standing in the corner, and it seemed to take forever for Gloria to finish whatever she was doing and come up to bed. Plus, when I pulled down my boxers, I had a raging hardon I desperately wanted to take into my own hands. Finally, I heard her enter the room behind me. I didn’t speak or turn around, sticking to the corner-time rules of the game. Instead, I stood holding my breath, listening to the tantalizing sounds of my wife removing her clothes in preparation for bed. Or, hopefully, in preparation for some adult playtime.

“You may come out of the corner now, my bad boy,” Gloria said.

I turned to see my wife seated on the side of the bed, wearing a shear nighty with the hem rucked up to her waist, revealing a length of creamy thigh. I’d been in the corner forever, so my member had sagged a little, but not much. The vision before me brought him right back to attention.

“I see someone has been naughty. Did you use your hand to get that little fellow excited?”

“No. And who are you calling little?”

“Never mind. Come get over my lap. I know how to take care of my naughty little man.”

Gloria spread her thighs, allowing my member to drop between them when I lay across her lap. She did not immediately clench her legs together, which was probably for the best. I might have squirted before she even applied palm to bottom. Which she did, with a resounding SMACK!

I did not need this foreplay to be ready for coitus, but I can still appreciate a little smack bottom. Gloria was spanking with more heat than needs be, but I told myself to engage my fantasy mind and enjoy. The one thing missing, that had me wishing and wondering, was friction between my cock and Gloria’s thighs. She still held her legs spread to prevent contact. Not fair, I thought, but then imagined gushing once I was fully encased in Gloria’s glorious pussy. I needed to be cautious of those kinds of thoughts, or I’d spoil it all before we got that far. An especially hard SMACK! brought my attention back to the present.

Gloria maintained a steady cadence, spreading the heat to all parts of my bottom, and I was distinctly uncomfortable before she slowed down and stopped.

“That was a good one,” I said and started to lever myself off her lap. I’d be feeling the burn for a while.

“A decent beginning, I suppose,” she said, pushing me back down. She pulled one leg from under me and used it to clamp me in position. “There’re just a few of those hard-to-reach places needing attention.”

SPAT! A sharp sting grew on my sit spot. I glanced back in time to see her wooden spoon sweeping down to impact the other side. SPAT! She must have hidden the damned thing on the bed behind her before calling me from the corner.

“Hey, not fair!” I protested.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I told you we were going to pretend you’d been a very bad boy. Bad boys always deserve more than my delicate little hand can deliver.”  SPIT!  SPAT!  SPIT!

Damn, that wooden spoon stung. It had a completely different feel from the hairbrush, and I’d have to admit it was not as bad as the brush, but still… When you are expecting a little foreplay followed immediately by a romp in the hay, its sting was substantial. Gloria soon had me struggling.

I protested again when she used one hand to spread the crack of my ass to give the wooden spoon access to its tender sides. She flicked it down in there, snapping her wrist, and it felt like a bee sting… a series of bee stings. A whole hive of bee stings!

“Enough!” I cried. I’m embarrassed to say I mean that literally. I did actually cry.

“Not your decision,” Gloria said. “Despite your claims to the contrary, I think you have been in violation of Rule Seven.”

“No! Ouch! Shit! I haven’t taken pleasure without your permission! Ouch!”

“Oh, I know, but the rule requires you to, and I quote, ‘Prioritize Gloria’s pleasure above your own.’ And ever since the weekend, you’ve thought of nothing but your own pleasure. That puts you in violation. Therefore…”  SPAT!  SPIT!  SPAT!

I was in deep distress by the time the ordeal ended and Gloria pushed me off her lap to kneel before her on the floor.

She spread her knees wide, scooted forward on the bed, and said, “You may thank me now.”

I did my best to thank my tormentress, but it wasn’t easy to keep from whimpering every time I clenched my butt cheeks. The sting in the crack of my ass was not going away soon.

When Gloria was finally satisfied, she scooted back, burrowed under the covers, and said, “That was nice. Come to bed now, John.”

“‘Come to bed,’ but what about me?”

“The discussion is over for tonight, unless you want to fetch my hairbrush?”

“No.”

“I thought not.”

I climbed into bed beside her, muttering, “Not fair,” which she ignored and turned off the light.

END of Part 17

The story continues with: Think Carefully 18  Taken Care Of

Copyright © 2024 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All rights reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.

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