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Erin Ch. 10: Retribution
By Jonathan Quincy Graves
{Note: This is the tenth in a multi-part story series cataloging the progressive evolution of a relationship between a dominant woman who provides leadership and discipline for her husband. Each installment can stand alone, but they read much better if you start at the beginning. Go to: Erin Ch.01 — Female Led Relationship. JAGraves}
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I dreamed I was about to cum. Delicate fingers were wrapped around my member, gliding slowly, barely touching skin, pumping me up and down. I was close, so very close. I could sense I was waking, but struggled to remain in the dream just one minute longer. One more minute. If I could keep this dream for one… more… min…
I lay for a while, eyes closed, trying to return to the dream, trying to sustain the feeling that had not yet quite left me. My morning wood was as hard as it had ever been. My Prince Albert piercing with its embedded steel ring was healed—leaving me with barely the memory of pain. I could still almost feel the delicate fingers of that cute Asian chick, stroking my hard. I don’t know who she was; I don’t think she exists outside of this one erotic dream. It was one of those dreams that has no back story, just begins and ends with the main sexual scene. We were naked, lying in bed with just a sheet for covering, and she was lightly stroking me, driving me insane.
Gradually, reluctantly, I rose to the surface of wakefulness. The phantom stimulation continued. I opened my eyes, and Erin was lying on her side next to me, up on one elbow, her head on her palm, the other hand under the sheet softly, slowly stroking my member. She wore a big grin as she looked down at me.
“Who’s Jasmine?” she asked.
“Jasmine? Who’s that?” I answered, still held partly by the quickly fading phantasm.
“You were talking to her in your sleep. So, who is she?” she said. Her grin grew wider.
“Oh… Hell, damned if I know. Do you have any idea how good that feels? What a wonderful way to wake up.” I rolled toward her and raised my head to give Erin a long, tender kiss.
“I intend to put you back into chastity today,” she said when we came up for air, “but I thought we should enjoy one more good fuck first. You okay with that?”
“Hell yes,” I said, sidestepping any hint of subtlety. “Well, at least the fucking part. Is the chastity part really necessary? I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve been free to enjoy fully the sexual act whenever we want.”
Erin’s gentle stroking paused, and her grin transformed during my last couple sentences to… not quite a frown, not angry, more like… thoughtful, serious… maybe on the edge of stern.
“Now, now, let’s not have that discussion yet,” she said. “I’d rather just enjoy this morning together, wouldn’t you? Instead of turning judgmental and bringing up the commission of past sins and retribution for punishment earned?”
She resumed her stroking, still just barely making contact with my skin. Ephemeral, that’s the word that played in my dream. I really don’t know where the name, Jasmine, came from, but whoever she is, she can’t be any sexier than my Erin. Nor can she possibly be better at delivering the ultimate feminine hand job.
“You’re right,” I said, reaching for a nipple, and gently manipulating it. “Sorry. I am so glad to have you home.”
Erin pushed me over onto my back, at the same time rolling on top of me, her knees clutching my hips. We kissed again, exploring each other with our tongues. My hardness stood straight up just below Erin’s sex, no longer receiving the contact that it craved. It strained to rub against, or better yet, penetrate my wife’s pussy, but she was just inches too far up my body.
I longed to take it in hand, but could not reach that far around Erin, so smoothed my hands over the naked body of my wife, instead. I explored and stroked down her back into the valley just north of her wonderful bottom, paused, then continued south to explore, cup, knead those perfect hills.
Erin rose up over me, looking down into my eyes. Her smile was back, a little less innocent, more lustful now. She crawled her way up my body, never losing eye contact. Before her sex reached my mouth, she turned around, planted her pussy against my lips, and lay down on me in the classic 69 position. I felt her warm breath surrounding my member, then the soft clutch of her lips.
I wanted to just lie there, trying to remember my dream and adding Erin’s oral ministrations to it, but duty calls, and I put my lips and my tongue to work. My hands clutched the two mounds of a delectable bottom.
It did not take long for me to be on the edge of coming, I reached down for Erin’s shoulder to signal that I was soon to explode. She backed off, and in a breathy voice said, “I want you inside me.”
Erin raised up, putting more pressure of her pussy against my mouth. My tongue moved quickly, plunging her depths and tickling her clit. Her breathing artvin escort accelerated and grew ragged. On the edge of her first orgasm, she changed position again, centering her body above my shaft. She grasped me, guided me into her and enveloped me in one long thrust. The feeling was… wonderful, indescribable.
Erin plunged slowly up and down the full length of my shaft. With every descent, I rose to meet her. We had not fucked so deeply, so hard in a very long time. I knew I would not last, but sensed she wouldn’t either. So, I held back, straining against the near overwhelming urge to erupt like a volcano into my love.
We maintained eye contact, Erin above, me below. Her breasts hung down, swaying in my peripheral vision with the rhythm of her movements. I could see in her eyes that she was close, so very close. She hates it when I come first and, with my softening prick, gradually lose the ability to bring her along. Many a lesson has been given with me over her knee to encourage me to build up my staying power.
I held it. I held it. Every muscle in my frame tightened. I held it. For one more thrust. Just one more thrust. Please. One. More. Thrust.
The world went white. I thrust up, pushing the tip of my member to its extremity in Erin’s vagina. My back was arched to give me the maximum possible depth, and I jerked and shuddered uncontrollably.
Erin came moments after my convulsions started, mimicking my loss of control, pressing her pelvis down, her pelvic floor contracting spasmodically around my shaft. With one final convulsive kegel, held in an absence of time, we both collapsed.
Erin lay atop me, our sweaty bodies heaving with each inhalation and exhalation of breath. After a minute or two, she began to laugh.
“Wow,” she said. “That was amazing. I’ve never felt you so hard before, and I could feel your jewelry deep inside me. I was so close before we even started, but I was still afraid you would not last long enough. But you did. It was perfect.” She kissed me, not with gentle, soft kisses, but as a great cat that would devour me. I responded in kind and our naked, sweat-slicked bodies ground against each other, still joined at the groin, hands clutching, grasping.
Several minutes later, Erin rolled off me, bounded off the bed and said, “Dibs on the shower,” as she strode toward the bathroom.
How can she do that? I marveled while enjoying the view of Erin’s naked body walking away from me. I’m exhausted. I lay there listening to the shower warm, then I heard the door open and close behind her. I rolled out of bed and went to join her. Our shower is not huge, but there is room for two who do not mind being close together, and there’s plenty of room to have someone scrub your back.
We toweled each other off, then Erin said, “Go lay on the bed while I gather a few things?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Go. Now. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly. Apparently, the fun was over for today, at least for me. Erin had her dominant voice in use again. I knew from comments made the past two days stemming from the self-abuse I’d engaged in while she was out of town on business, that I could expect a meeting with Lucile, Erin’s hairbrush. That to be followed, probably, by a visit from Delphyne, Erin’s thick leather strap.
I’ve been hoping that both of these painful experiences would be put off forever, or at least into the far distant future. My stomach turned over, and my throat grew tight with just the thought of what was to come. I lay naked on the bed, on top of the bedding, my senses so heightened by fear that I could feel the faintest of movements of air across my body.
When Erin returned, I immediately saw that she was not holding either Lucile or Delphyne. Instead, she had a package of frozen peas, and something else I couldn’t make out. Ah, back into chastity prison, I thought. Well, far better than the alternative.
Erin unceremoniously slapped the frosty bag of peas against my package, which had already shrunken some because of the terror of my earlier expectations. The impact and the sudden cold made me flinch and emit a yelp, and it did not take long to reduce me to my smallest. Embarrassing, that, no man likes to have his woman see him when his dick is in its most shriveled condition.
“Mother loaned us something to try out while I settle on a new, secure chastity cage for you. If we assume time for me to decide on your new model, add in time to order and take delivery, the process will probably take a week or so.” She removed the peas, revealing—yup, it’s pee-wee Chuck. Before installing the little fellow in its temporary home, she showed it to me.
Yee gods! She’s got to be kidding. That thing looks lethal! I was looking at a collar, about an inch long, and too damned small in diameter, with dozens of sharp points on the inside. It was hinged for a clam-shell closing and had a tab at aydın escort one end. Without delaying further, Erin snapped it shut around Chuck just below his head. The tab extended around the ring of my Prince Albert piercing, leaving room for Erin to thread a small padlock through the ring. I was not getting out of this one without the aid of a bolt cutter.
“There,” she said, “all cozy. Comfortable?”
“Um, yes, okay, but…”
“Good. That means it is just the right size for Chuck—as long as Chuck is not a naughty boy. Mom tells me that this Kali’s Teeth penis cuff is a great training aid. That it will have Chuck under control in no time. I was skeptical until she showed it to me, then I agreed to give it a fair trial. Should we try a little experiment?” she said, as she lowered her mouth and kissed my dick on its eager head. The effect that the frozen peas brought about was undone in a heartbeat, and I groaned as the points engaged my expanding shaft.
“Oh good,” Erin said. “It seems that it does work. You failed to reach even half-staff. Well, as I mentioned earlier, we will have these teeth installed for a week. Actually, I guess I should say at least a week since I’m not yet decided on the chastity model I want to purchase to replace your old one. Then there’s time for all that shipping and handling we’ll have to pay for. Well, a week might be a little overly optimistic. We’ll see. At any rate, there should be plenty of opportunity to do some serious product performance testing of this Crown of Thorns. Won’t that be fun?
“Mom had another model that she swears by. It is similar to this one, but the tube is longer, and it has a sound. That’s a small, curved tube that fits right down inside the urethra. And, of course, since it is longer overall, it has far more sharp little points, including a couple right at the enclosed end. Ouch!
“She also offered to loan us an electric model. Apparently, with you in that one, when you are anywhere within the house, I can easily request your presence with the remote control. Mother claims there is no way you will miss that signal. It also has a feature I could set to keep you within a radius of my choosing so that you would not absentmindedly wander off. Sounds a little too elaborate to me, but I must say that I had no idea that there were so many wonderful toys out there for use on wayward cocks. We really should widen our horizons and experiment further.
“You know what you did to warrant this escalation, so we need not spell it out. I’ll inspect poor Chuck now and then for damage. Don’t want to actually harm the little fellow, and ‘little’ is what he will remain until I’m ready to ease up on him. But enough of that for now. We can pursue this topic later. Put on a clean pair of your panties and a matching apron, if you have one. With both of us out of the house this past week or more, there is plenty of work to do around here.”
I put on a pearl-gray panty—wishing that the more conservative navy-blue ones were not in the laundry—donned the least frilly apron and started in on the household tasks Erin assigned. She was comfortable in jeans and a loose blouse. After about an hour, she found me dusting in the rec room and gave me a pair of mules to wear.
“Your bare feet sweat,” she said, “and you’re leaving footprints on the hardwood floors.”
The mules were dark blue with a one-inch platform heel, tight at the toes, (they were Erin’s size, after all) but open in the back so that my heel could hang off the end a little.
She looked me up and down then said, “I see we will have to do some shopping. Not only do you need more panties but also aprons to match and suitable shoes that actually fit you.”
“I could just wear boxers, jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of sneakers.”
“What would be the fun in that,” she said with a smile. “No, I like mother’s innovation. I think we will stick with it around the house. It will help remind you to be a good little boy. Besides, think about it, do you really want that crown of thorns hanging down, its weight alternately stretching and poking at poor Chuck? Panties will hold it up against you, snugly in place.
She stood there looking at me for another moment before saying, “You’ve put on some extra pounds in recent years. It’s not very attractive when your belly and hips are exposed. One of the problems of aging and leading a sedentary life, no doubt. Doing housework instead of just sitting at the computer has helped some, but I don’t think it’s been enough. A proper diet and exercise would get rid of most of that excess flab. And since we are going to be shopping for panties, we might as well look for some shapewear in your size at the same time. They make waist cinchers now that are not too uncomfortable. Much better than the old lace up corsets. Although, that might be an amusing option. I’ll check online and consider what’s available before we go to the stores.” She went back to whatever balıkesir escort she was doing in her home office.
I stood there stunned, my mind racing. Waist cinchers? Corsets? And going to the stores to shop for panties? Her mother had some that fit me. Extras that her husband wore, I guess, I sure never asked. But whatever, she didn’t need me to go shopping with her. Will Erin want me along when she goes to the store? That’s what it sounded like. Damn, living with Erin is like being stuck in quicksand. Every time I turn around, it just gets deeper.
We took a rib eye from the freezer to share for dinner. We buy them thick with plenty of marbling so one steak is plenty of meat for two. Erin had a baked potato and asparagus. I had steak and salad, no dressing. Apparently, she was serious about that diet comment earlier. Guess I’ll have to take up running again. I hate to run. Even when I was younger, and actually did run to keep in shape, I never enjoyed it. I mostly did it in the summer to stay in condition for skiing in the winter. Living in Aspen, Colorado, some of the best skiing and snowboarding in the world is practically on our doorstep.
After dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen together and loaded the dishwasher. Then we adjourned to the rec room to watch a little TV. We enjoy the old British detective series. There are four that we rotate through, and when we finish the last episode of one, we find another to put into the mix. It gives us some together time while our dinner settles. Tonight, it was an episode of “Morse.”
I had removed the apron I’d worn all day, and Erin allowed me to put on a shirt so that I would be comfortable in our cool house, but she did not extend the dispensation to include pants. When I asked, she just said, “No. I like you like this.” We were well past the point where Erin felt she had to explain or justify such decisions. I knew not to push it. I knew what was coming before the evening was complete.
When the show was finished, the theme music playing to the credits, Erin shut it off with the remote, told me to, “Put the chair in position,” and left the room.
“The chair,” is one of several straight-backed, armless chairs that are located strategically about the house. “Position,” is generally in the center of the room, where there is plenty of space for swinging arms and kicking feet. Erin had gone to fetch Lucile.
When Erin returned, she had Lucile in one hand and Delphyne in the other. She dropped Delphyne on the couch as she strode by to take her seat in, “the chair.” I stood before her, looking down at her lap. The lap I would soon be helplessly across.
“I am very disappointed in you, husband. You took pleasure you had not earned, you did it in secret while I was away, and you did it so carelessly that my mother, your mother-in-law, was able to walk in and catch you in the act. Do you have anything you would like to say to me?”
“No, I’m sorry.” I get choked up during these interrogations, to the point where even those few words are difficult to get out.
“That was not the only time you escaped your chastity device, so you could masturbate, was it?”
“No.”
“How long has it been going on? When did you learn you could escape your cage for some self-gratification? And look at me when you answer my questions.”
I looked up to her eyes, which did not help at all to make me more fluent. “I don’t know.”
“A month? A year? I’ve been traveling heavily since my promotion. Does it date back that far?”
“I guess.”
“You guess.” Erin just looked at me for a long moment. The silence was nearly unbearable. She finally broke it with, “That breach of trust is going to cost you, husband.” She stripped my panties down to my knees, took my arm and steered me between her legs and down over her left thigh. Her right leg clamped mine in place and I reached back so she could take my right hand and position it up under my shoulder blades. She never has to ask for that hand anymore.
Often, Erin starts a spanking with her firm right hand to set the tone and warm my bottom for my meeting with Lucile. Not this time. Lucile came whistling out of space and met my right cheek with a resounding, SMACK! I yelped, barely completing that response before Lucile came crashing down upon my other cheek.
This was going to be a bad one. I expected it, and my expectation was confirmed. Erin lit a fire with that damned wooden brush that spread from one cheek to the other and several inches down each thigh. And it just went on and on. One side, then the other, high on my bottom, low into the sweet spot, several in one place until I was begging her to choose another, only to have her do just that and repeat the process. I was in pain from the start, and in agony long before the end. She spent an eternity lighting up the tops of my thighs so that I would feel it whenever I tried to sit for the next several days.
I passed through the weeping, the crying, the struggle and the constrained kicking of feet. I tried begging and promising, all the actions that were part of a thorough discipline session. None of them made the slightest difference. None of them gave me the least bit of relief. Erin spanked me until I had collapsed across her knee. Tears flowed from my eyes, snot from my nose, sounds I made—incoherent.
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