husband training

An Evening – Part II

dominant wife, submissive husband(Part 1 is here)

I knew what was coming. And I was not looking forward to it one bit.

“Put the water jug on the floor at the end of the coffee table Dear.” said Hannah. I did and waited for her next instruction.

“Kneel. That right, knees on either side of the jug. Perfect! Now Miss Black, a really well trained husband does exactly what he is told to do. And he does it until he is told to stop. Ready Darling…okay, lower your little balls and that silly cockette into the ice. That’s it dear. Now here is your kitchen timer…Four minutes should be about right.”

The shock of the iced water on my testicles was enough to make me forget how embarrassed I was to be kneeling in front of a strange woman in a bra, girdle and stockings. And then the ice hit the steel intruder up my bottom and I could feel it cooling in me. Hannah kept right on talking.

“Elliot loves this little old fashioned kitchen timer. I can be forgetful and a couple of times I have simply left him in his corner all afternoon. In fact, one day I went shopping and he simply had to stand there naked until I came back. And I often send him to a corner in my closet where he can enjoy his mindfulness in the dark. But, out of sight, out of mind.” (more…)

Sweater Boi

Dominant Wife

Grey Angora Sweater

If I had slightly longer hair and better skin that could be me in the picture. The Lady of the House decided that, before there was any chance I would be allowed to ejaculate, I was to spend the day en femme. Panti girdle, a very pretty long line bra with breast form inserts to push it to its full “C” cup size, a wonderfully soft, grey, angora sweater and a pair of high waisted wool ladies trousers with a back zipper. Plus little heels. Hannah simply left the outfit out for me after my shower.

Once in a while I quite like having to wear women’s clothing. But I suspect this is just the beginning of a Halloween set of treats and tricks. But I am also pretty sure my darling wife will let me come sometime today.

At least I very much hope so.

Update: Silly me, I showed the Lady of the House this post…”You know you’re right, you could look a lot like that pretty girl. Just wait a moment.” She hurried off and, when she returned she had a lipstick, a bit of foundation and a short brunette wig I had forgotten she owned. Now I look almost identical to the pretty girl. Which is delightful but I am very glad I work from home.

A Conversation

dominant wifeHannah had something on her mind.

“You know darling, wonderful as having you submissive and chaste and wonderfully attentive is, I think we need a bit more routine in our lives. Or, more accurately, you need more in yours. I noticed how wonderfully you responded to your paddling the other day. Not a punishment, just a reminder.

I think you need more of that sort of thing. So, starting today a few new rules.

First off, I’d like you to make a real transition from your work day to our home. If I want to know about your business I’ll ask. And to signify your transformation from the man of business to your real position from now on you have a little beauty ritual before you lay out the cocktail things. First, you shave and shower. I want you smelling lovely and I am thinking of getting you a bit of scent.

Then, quick as you can, I want you to put on a little bra, panties, one of your girdles and hose. Then some of your nicer, softer clothes. And I will be buying you a few things I’d like you to wear. Then you’ll be ready to greet me when I get home.

Second, I don’t think you have been getting enough corner time. You’ve been much too busy to take the fifteen minutes in the morning and, beside, the house is do busy that if I want to give you strokes after your corner time it is a bit awkward. And I do want to give you those strokes. I’d really forgotten how much nicer you are when you’ve been whipped.”

“So, the one time around here that it is quiet is when I wash my hair. So, from now on, no matter what you are doing, when I tell you I’m washing my hair I want you to drop what you are doing, go up to my lingerie closet, strip naked and press your nose into my panties. It is a pretty safe bet you’ll be caned or paddled afterwards. And just about certain you won’t be allowed to come.”

“But I might.”

“That’s all dear.”

All I could say was “Thank you.”

Cooling Trend

stockings and panties“Darling,” said Hannah as I fastened the back tabs of her stockings, “I know it has been quite a long time since I have let you come. I actually prefer you a bit on edge so nothing will be happening very soon.” I stood up, half erect at the intimacy of my duties.

“So I have been thinking and what I have thought is that, well. You know how I like to have the ice bucket for my wine filled with salt water and ice cubes and then put in the freezer.”

“Yes Hannah.”

“Well, tonight, while I am out, I’d like you to fill the ice bucket, put it in the freezer for ten minutes and then take it to the downstairs bathroom. Put it on the mat, take off your pants and kneel with your cock and balls in the ice water as long as you can stand it but not less than 90 seconds – I would really prefer two or three minutes.”

“Yes Hannah.”

What a delightfully diabolical scheme. I filled the bucket, let it cool and, gingerly knelt in the required position. And I forced myself to stay there for the full two minutes…Hannah is not back yet but I expect she will be surprised at two things: first, after about a minute my balls retracted all the way up. It was like suddenly having no testicles at all. Second, despite the pain, my cock got quite hard.

I fear that the ice bucket will likely find its way into my kneeling confessions. And, knowing Hannah, she will want to hear all the details of every sin of omission and commission as ice cubes spin gently around my quicken cock and absent balls.

She really is very clever and I am very much in love.

Meditation

Some days start busy and stay that way. However, ritual is a vital part of the life of a man in my position and now that Hannah has decided that I am to spend a few minutes in my corner, nose to panty, naked, that is what I do. A man in my position does what he is told. Even briefly.

Probably all of five minutes. Part of which was spent realizing that I am to be punished tonight, likely with our maid’s participation. Most of the time, however, I simply thought about the wonderful woman whose most intimate scent overwhelmed my senses. A man in love.

I grew hard in my corner, ten days without release I think. Very long in any case.

Waiting for correction

I was late home last night. Late enough that I know that I’m to be punished.

Hannah takes her time. I know she is waiting for the right moment so she can turn her full attention to my correction. But that means I have to wait. And the wait is agonizing. For a man in my position to be whipped is in the natural order of things. I take my regular whippings as the physical manifestation of the truth of Hannah’s leadership and her feminine authority.

But punishment whippings are quite different. I am obliged to ask for them as needed. I have set out the bath brush – which I hate – and Hannah’s cane. Punishment is meant to hurt and to remind a man in my position of his submission. Hannah takes them very seriously. And so I wait.

Even

I have been entirely chaste, not even milked, for nearly two weeks. This is typical of the low end of Hannah’s, and therefore my, cycle. For a few days she has no interest at all in sex or teasing or my discipline. And, for a man in my position, that is simply the way it is. There is only one sexuality which matters in our house: Hannah’s and I have agreed to abide by that fact. But it is terribly frustrating and deliciously impossible to change.

However, last night, Hannah began to stir. She hinted at a blow job but fell asleep long before that was a possibility. I fell asleep erect and longing. “I’ll give you a spanking in the morning darling,” Hannah said as she drifted off. Which, of course, made me all the harder.

Hannah arrived in our bedroom as I was making our bed. We chatted for a little while and then she said, “So show me this new position.” I hastened to comply. Now that Hannah is enjoying swinging her cane with a degree of authority, it matters a great deal to me that each side of my bottom is evenly whipped. The last couple of whippings have, shall we say, favoured the right buttock which is the natural consequence of Hannah standing to my left. She can only bring the cane down by swinging forehand. The “new” position puts me on my knees at the bottom corner of the bed and at a 45 degree angle. Hannah saw the advantages of this new arrangement immediately.

“So all I have to do,” she said fastening my wrists to my ankles securely with my soft black leather belt, “is switch sides and use my backhand. Well, let’s see if that can work.” dominant wife

As Hannah spoke she was warming me up with a steady, hard, hand spanking. As Mrs. Spencer quite rightly points out, for a man even the hardest hand spanking delivered by a woman barely registers. A fact not lost on Hannah as she picked up her cane. She began forehand on my left and, as expected, my right cheek was soon warming and then hot. Hannah’s strokes were not particularly hard. This was a pure maintenance whipping and there is plenty of time for welts later in the month. A dozen and a half strokes in and Hannah was satisfied. She switched sides.

A revelation! Until now my right side has always taken the brunt of my whippings, maintenance or punishment. Now Hannah was able to even the punishment. The sweet sensation of her cane biting into my flesh, not terribly hard but constantly, was matched by the heat rising from my well lined right buttock. Hannah’s backhand whipping technique took a few strokes to come in. She was gauging the force of her strokes and it was only after half a dozen that she settled on what pleased her. All too soon, but not soon enough, it was over. Or was it? Hannah made no move to unbuckle my belt. I was in position.

She said nothing but stroked my bottom quite firmly as if assessing her work. Unsatisfied she stood back and delivered three harder forehand strokes and then, switching sides, three stiff backhand slashes. I winced at each of them but the short respite had given me time to collect myself and I did not vocalize or cry. In fact, now that my punishment was evened out, I could easily have taken another dozen hard strokes a side. Which is a great gift. Only then did Hannah release my wrists.

I managed to say “Thank you darling” before she got on with her day and I with mine. It is going to be an interesting few weeks.