He lay himself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling and waited. He could hear the water run and the swish of noise it made as she moved her hands and a face cloth under it testing the water. He could watch, but the gratuitous view of her sex would not be on the visual menu. The water stopped.

Seconds later, “Sir, I am here to wash you of our lust, Sir.”

He nodded and gestured toward his manhood. She took it gently in her hands, she could feel the beginning of its growth. She stroked it gently from the head down several times. Slowly moving the warm cloth along his sensitive organ. Stroking begat growth and growth required more stroking. She marveled at the changes made in his manhood. Its response to her touch, the face cloth, the temperature change. She frequently glanced up to his handsome face to watch his ecstasy at her attentions. Throughout the next several trips to restroom to rinse and rewarm she stared happily at his sex almost childlike as it morphed in several methods. While she was very accustomed to the changes his cock made in and around the act of sex, it was here that she really got to see the wonders of the scrotum. How it would contract to a wrinkled orb as the warm water cooled. Then how fast they would relax and fall once more into a long smooth pouch once rewarmed after the face cloth had renewed heat from the sink.

She pressed his thighs aside gently with a freshly warmed facecloth. He opened for her without hesitation. She ran the warm, wet cloth a few strokes across his taint, balls to bed.

“I believe some manscaping will be in order this weekend, girl.” He said, still looking toward the ceiling.

She looked at his sex again, now evaluating. She had cleaned him up earlier this week. His pubic hair was neatly trimmed, finger width above his cock. There were signs of some stubble coming in around the rest of him, but nothing outstanding. Nothing that would inspire her to undertake or suggest the process without prompting. But tonight, and for this weekend, she was his to direct.

“Sir, yes sir, shall I begin, Sir.”

“No, food is on my priority list right now. Remind me mid-morning tomorrow so it will be done before lunch. As you did not prepare food, I expect you have prepared my clothes for dinner out?”

“Sir, yes, Sir. Your blue suit, white shirt and I have brushed your black shoes, Sir.”

“Very well, clean yourself up and dress me for dinner.”, he directed.

She kissed his cock gently and returned to the restroom and once again started the water. She put her foot up on the counter.

“Make it a show.”, he said rolling to the side, his hand under his head. She could see life coming back into his cock.

She put her foot down and stepped back a bit. This time she placed her foot more upright, forcing her to bend more sideways. Which they had both learned, put both thighs and her pussy center stage. She washed herself slowly. The not completely wrung face cloth leaving short water trails down her thighs as she ran it across her mound, front to back as her mother had taught her. Her fingers gently separated her inner and outer lips for the warm moist cloth. She worked every crevice until she felt no trace of them on her. She rinsed the cloth again and began to stroke the wet cloth from her sex toward her knees. Her whole hand worked the face cloth across the width of her thighs. She worked them both a few strokes and rinsed the facecloth preparing to toss it in the hamper.

“I do not believe the pussy is clean enough…. again!”

She rinsed the cloth and washed her entire vulva, slowly, meticulously. After she was through with that she looked his way. His fingertips slowly stroked the length of his cock.

“Again.”

She rinsed the cloth and went through the motions. This time she locked her eyes on him. The more she washed, the more he stroked. She liked this ‘game’. She kept washing herself and started feeling her sex charge with desire. His fingertips had turned into a hand grip around his cock. She stared and washed, stared and washed. He continued to stroke and receive her stares. Her excitement was mounting, but at the same time so were the effects of a face cloth rubbing that sensitive flesh. The water kept it sliding some, but the friction was wearing a different sensation. She kept washing herself until she looked at him and started grunting. It was a mix of pleasure and pain. The pain was still on the upside but the pleasure was nearing the explosion point. This was not her first or last masturbation show, it was just in a different setting. Her hands were no longer the only action going on. Her hips had started undulating in rhythm to the stroking. She had found that one spot where her fingers pressed to stroke and tease her clit and she was focusing on that. Ready for release she picked up her pace and she lost sight of his stroking as her head looked up and her eyes shut beyond her control. The friction burn increased as she had not rinsed the face cloth for many strokes, but the pain she suffered and the wondered of him watching and stroking kept her desire climbing. She could feel the knee that supported most of her weight shake as the wave in her sex prepared to crash!

“Enough!”, he spoke in a strong whisper in her ear. He put his arm around her chest and pulled her back into him as his other hand gripped about her hand pulling it away from her.

“Sir, Pleeeeeeeeeease, Sir!”, she cried. Her body shuddered with the sudden denial and her desire on the cusp of release.

He spun her around and held her tight. Her body weak. He kissed her deep. She wanted it somewhere else.

“Sir, I am quite clean Sir, should you want a taste, Sir.” She kissed him back, her tongue slowly stroking the tip of his tongue. Tempting him to finish what he had directed. He held her tighter. His erection pressed into her belly.

“His cock, that would do it…” she wondered to herself in a moment of desperation” …just one thrust, maybe two” and she was sure she would be free of heavenly agony. She wrapped one leg around his hip and kissed him again. She wrapped the other leg around him. She would climb him and slip that cock inside her and cum and cum. She tried desperately to move her legs up him, but he held her at bay. She thrust her pelvis into his erection but to no avail. A few more thrusts and her body could support her no more. Her legs relaxed and gently slid back to the floor. She panted. Her face in his chest. Her body returning to her conscious control.

His hand in her hair brought a bit of external control into her. She continued to breathe through the desire for orgasm. He was set on her denial. She was set on doing as he said. She ground her face in his chest. He pulled her away from him by her hair. Pulling her down until she knelt. He drew her into his thigh. She held onto him. He petted her hair and listened to her breathe. When he heard her breathe more regularly, he used her hair to guide her eyes to his.

“I am going to the restroom, then you are to start dressing me.”

She nodded, “Sir, Yes, Sir.”

He shook his leg and she loosened her grip. Her fingers trailing his thigh as he stepped away. He had stopped in front of the toilet briefly before he felt her breasts brush him and she took a gentle hold of his cock. Guiding it to the open bowl. She kissed his shoulder, their agreed ‘ready’ code, and he released his stream. She moved his cock about making circles and shapes. Sometimes she would do the alphabet challenge or try to ‘write’ one of their names. Tonight, in her overexcited state, she giggled and just doodled with his diddle. When the last of it seemed to stop she massaged the length of his cock a bit before giving it a gentle shake. She held gently to his cock and guided him to the sink where she washed her own hands and while they were soapy, the end of his cock. She rinsed and dried them both.

She stepped out of the room and took her place by the full-length dressing mirror after hanging his clothing nearby. He came forward and stopped in front of the mirror. She cared not for the reflection, but did take a minute to admire him standing naked. Muscles toned, handsome face, a bit rugged looking with the five o’clock shadow having grown to a late evening shadow, his hair recently cut in the military style he still wore and his cock, though not excited, still bore a worthy view.

She stepped to his wardrobe and removed a pair of red underwear and black socks. She stood before him, her nipples brushing his chest and squatted before him. Her nipples running down his body and thighs. She had pecked a kiss on his cock as it settled center view as she rested on her heels. Her knees now on the outside of his legs. She held open the red underwear, spandex boxer briefs with black trim. They were her favorites to see him wear, and peel him out of! She was concentrating on her balance.

“Sir, Please, Sir.”

He raised one foot and she threaded the foot through the appropriate leg hole. He put his foot down and raised the other. She guided the other foot through and began to lift them up his legs. She stretched the waistband wide to start its travel over his ass then slid one hand to the front so not to drag the band across his balls and cock. She felt a bit of pride at how smoothly this went, far from her clumsy first attempt before they were married. The spandex did what spandex does and she watched the sheen as it wrapped around all his curves. She slid her hands opposite sides of him. They glided across the spandex easily. She found the center of the waistband and shifted it slightly to align with his spine. She stroked down across his ass, moving and peeking as she did to work out any wrinkle that may have been left. She hooked her fingers under the snug stitching at his thighs and brought her hands back to the front. She rested her hands on her knees as she stared at the red bulge before her. She eyed it carefully before she slid a hand up one of the legs and shifted his cock slightly. She removed her hand and looked again. She did this two more times before she was pleased with how he ‘filled out’. She planted several light kisses across his protrusion.

She separated the socks and opened one. She knew he was watching all of this as she did not have to prompt him to raise a foot. She stretched the sock over his foot, ensuring the seams were correctly aligned at the toe and heel and the rib pattern was straight. She did this for his other foot.

She rose and went straight to his hanging clothes retrieving his trousers. Ironed as she kept them and hanging unfolded from the cuffs. She handled and fluffed them gingerly so as not to disrupt the fine creases she had worked into them. She bent at the waist holding his trousers open. He raised a leg and she guided one after the other through. Each time ensuring his foot cleared the leg to prevent him from possibly stepping on the hem. She fluffed them continuously as she drew them up over his ass and pulled them taught as her hands pulled to the front. A finger stroked his package before she hooked and buttoned his waist and drew up his zipper.

She retrieved his shoes and lay on the floor beside his right foot. The short carpet reminded her of the belting she had received. He raised the foot and she carefully placed the shoe on him. He shifted and stepped gently on her chest. The shoe centered between her breasts. Enough weight to stabilize him, but nowhere near half his body weight. She laced his shoes with some difficulty. This was new to them both after something they had read in one of the online BDSM stories. She was not sure if she liked it. It did something for her, but she was not quite sure what yet. When she removed her hands from his foot. He moved it to the far side of her and raised his left foot. With the shoe in place he again rested his foot firmly between her breasts. She struggled to lace the shoe correctly once again.

Both shoes now tied, he straddled her. She looked up and saw him reaching his hands out. She reached back. He began to lift her back to her feet. He dragged her slowly a few inches. Her tender ass across that carpet.

“Owww”, she said reactively.

He stared her down. As he continued to lift her up to her feet.

“Sir, Owww, Sir?”, she said hesitantly, eyelashes fluttering. There was still plenty of opportunity for another paddling.

“Cute enough… this time… continue.” He said, releasing her hands and guiding her back to the awaiting clothes.

She pulled his dress white shirt off its hanger and approached him from the rear. She held it open and slid the sleeve down his extended arm. She did the same on the other side. She walked in front of him and started squaring the shirt onto him. She evened out the second button and buttonhole and started buttoning his shirt. Slowly she would brush her hands across his chest ‘smoothing the wrinkles’ with each button complete. Deep down she just liked to stroke her hands across his chest over that pressed white shirt, following his pectoral contours. She could occasionally notice a bit of response from his nipples, but nothing like the way hers responded to the same attention. When the last button was completed she ran her fingers down again, this time brushing over his manhood.

She unfastened his waistband and began to tuck in his shirt, front first and then around toward the back. Her hand slid the pressed shirt over the spandex boxer briefs, more than necessary over both his ass and codpiece bulge. She pleated the shirt tail inward so it would fit better across the front. She refastened his waistband and adjusted it to his shirt. His ‘gig line’ he called it. Another military hold-out in his behavior. The seam of his fly aligned the edge of his shirt button hole side.

She retrieved his belt, the belt, the belt that left her ass inflamed so that it still nagged at her with every move of her buttocks or thighs. She carried it to him held aloft in a near religious display. Nothing of his direction, just her appreciation for the belt. The belt of that man. Prior to the discovery of what that belt meant to her… to them, he would have worn a dress belt. But now, the heavy tooled belt was all he would wear. She squatted before him again, quickly and smoothly threading the belt through all of the loops and buckled it taught. She slid the remainder through the keeper and the next belt loop. She chuckled again to herself about how quick and smooth that was. The first time she fumbled and missed loops. It was this one task where she discovered for herself that squatting beat kneeling for some service tasks.

She stood up and removed herself from between him and the mirror. “Sir, please review yourself, Sir.”

He admired himself in that full-length mirror. It had been hers when they were dating. She does not ever recall him using it without her suggestion until now. He looked at himself carefully. Turning part way. Checking his tuck. He checked his collar several times. This was strange. She looked carefully to see what she might have missed. She was seeing nothing wrong with his collar but she was getting a fearful feeling. He dropped his hands to his side with a snap.

“I look very nice.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You did miss something girl.” He was very matter of fact. “You can find it yourself, or you can present the paddle.”

She moved around him, eyeing him top to bottom. She even squatted and circled him. She stood and stared closely at his collar, nothing. “Why did he check his collar so much?” She wondered to herself. “Then he thrust his hands down. He wanted to paddle her again. That is why he moved his hands like that. He wants my ass bared again!” She was going into a bit of a panic and was preparing to fetch the paddle when she looked at his hands again. Not his hands, but the cuffs of his shirt. Flying open, she had missed his cuffs. Emotions flooded her brain. Embarrassment, shame, anger, relief, and disbelief. Her heart was racing and she could feel a bit of sweat and blush across her face. “He kept moving his hands to his collar and then dropped his hands so quickly to get her attention. He wanted to offer me a chance to fix my mistakes and I went off the deep end that he wanted to punish me.” Her brain was talking as she was frozen in place.

“Girl?”, he said in a low voice.

She raced to his bureau and fetched the black jewelry box and returned to him. She opened the box revealing stainless steel cufflinks with a Celtic Triskelion embossed in them. They had been a gift from her to him. She offered them as a gift on the same night they had agreed to begin the Dominant/submissive relationship. They were her submissive gift to him. Now she had forgotten them… on her first opportunity to put them on him.

“Sir, my humblest apologies, Sir.” She placed the first cufflink in place. She reached toward the other wrist. “Sir, I would certainly rate the paddle, Sir.”

“I believe the blush down to your neck let me know what you learned. I would prefer to go and eat.”

Cufflinks in place she stood again out of his view of the mirror.

“Excellent, now let’s dress you.”

He stepped into the closet and tossed her an older dress white shirt from his side of the closet. Thin and threadbare. She knew the shirt well. He was financially desperate and picked it up at a Goodwill for the interview for his current job. He had to wear it regularly until he got paid. It got worn and washed a lot. He kept it like a good luck charm.

“Roll that under from the bottom until it supports your breasts and tie it.”

He walked over to her bureau and opened her panty drawer. “Come here, girl!”, he said with a state of urgency.

She was in the process of folding under the shirt when he said this. Holding the shirt tails taught and wide open. She trotted over to him. Her almost ‘C’ cups bouncing up and down. She stopped with a hard-final step to give her breasts one last heavy drop. She waited until the last of the bounce had settled. She smiled up at him, wide eyed and playful, her breasts still in full view. “Sir, yes Sir?”

“That was very cute, thank you.” He smiled back at her.

He reached over her shoulder to her braid and spun her around facing away from him. “Finish the shirt.” He was back to being matter of fact.

She did as she was told. Carefully and neatly folding the shirt under to snug it under her boobs. She could feel his fingers poking her sore ass as he held up different pairs of panties to compare their shade to that of her ass. She thought to herself just how sexy it would be if her panties just disappeared into them, camouflaged the same color. She was tying up the shirt when she could feel the chosen panties land across her shoulder. She snugged and tied the two folds tight enough to offer some support and her nipples poked barely obstructed through the old shirt. Her areolas were quite noticeable. She plucked the panties off her shoulder to see what he had chosen.

Her attitude flipped a hundred and eighty degrees immediately. She hated these panties. They were bright yellow bikinis, and very full coverage. She had liked them when she bought them but the lace pattern became stiff, the elastic crunchy and a couple of holes appeared after only a few washings. They had been designated as ‘disposable’, to be torn, cut or chewed off. She disliked them so much now, even when he asked her to be in disposable panties she had chosen others rather than wear these. Now they would be scratchy on her sore ass. “Fucking bastard”, she let fly in her brain. “Sir…. Please no, … Sir?” is what escaped her lips.

He stared her down as she slowly stepped into and pulled up the panties. He ran his hands across her bottom and pressed the lace into her welted ass. She was still quite red but not the fiery color it was when he was done. She could almost feel the scratchy pattern of the lace her ass was still so sensitive. She winced from the sensation but said nothing. He noted the look on her face and gave her bottom another long, deep, squeezing stroke. “Just think about sitting on those to, in and from the restaurant!”