My Wish Was Her Command

by Dan Moran

  Well, any man will tell you there’s nothing like the idea of shopping to kill an erection. I grew limp again almost immediately as I walked away to get my clothes. After a few steps, though, Justine strode up quickly behind me and gave me a surprise smack on the ass with her open palm. It was hard, it caught me off guard, and the loud crack echoed in our tiled kitchen. It also made me completely aroused again, and I sighed with regret at having to get dressed at that moment and drive to some store.

  In the car, on the way to the store, Justine drove and asked me, “How’s the ass?”

  “It’s great,” I told her. “It still stings, of course, but that’s why it’s great.”

  “I just wanted to be sure,” she said, “that I didn’t do too much too early, because we’re not through. You’ll have some more coming up later on.”

  “Mmm,” I said with a smile, my cock swelling once again and pressing against my pants.

  “There’s something else I want to mention,” she said. “In my recent research and talks with those other people online, I’ve found that many people who do this sort of thing will have some word or phrase to use if they want everything to stop. I’ve been asking you to help me figure out the number of strokes each time, and giving you some chances to back down, but this would be a way for you to just know you could stop things without having to wait for me to check with you. That way I won’t have to keep asking or hesitating; I can just go on doing whatever it is I’m doing without any worries, knowing you have the power to bring it to a halt any time you want.”

  I considered for a moment. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said.

  “Good,” she said. “Like I told you before, I’m finally getting to understand that you can take more pain than I thought, and maybe even more than you thought, so I’d like to be able to try things out and not be worried. And I’m not worried. I’ll just be doing some things and getting you to do some things and not wondering if it’s okay. So what’s the magic word going to be?”

  “Blue,” I said, for no real reason other than that it was the first random word to pop into my head.

  “Okay. ‘Blue’ it is. If I hear you say it, we’ll stop whatever we’re doing right away.”

  I simply kissed her on the cheek and smiled, looking at how gorgeous she was, thinking about how great she was. I’m such a lucky man, I thought.

  We finally got to a mall and went into a department store, and I was not surprised to find that Justine wanted to look at shoes. “I’ll need your help,” she told me. This was one of the most boring things I could ever do with my time, but I went along with it and was actually a little excited in some strange way. It seemed somehow like an extension of sex, with the promise of more spanks for me and the continued pressure of my unfulfilled orgasm. We walked around for a bit, and she picked up various shoes and told me which ones she’d like to try on. I then found boxes that had pairs in her size and put them all near an empty chair.

  When she finally sat down, I followed and stood in front of her. She looked up at me, eyebrows slightly raised, and then she slowly extended one leg, as if to say, “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?”

  I understood, and she didn’t have to say anything. I dropped to my knees and removed the shoe from her extended leg. She’d worn a dark skirt that fell just above her knees, and as I knelt before her, my eyes roved up her legs and into the shadows of that fabric. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I could smell her sweetness, ever so faintly. When the first shoe was off, she placed that foot upon the floor and then raised the other in my direction, and I removed that shoe as well. “Now, how about we start with those?” she asked, pointing to one of the boxes. I hastened to open the box, unwrap the shoes from their tissue paper, and place them on her feet. They were black leather pumps with three-inch heels, and they fit her very well.

  She then rose from the chair, standing only inches in front of me, with my face at about the level of her crotch. I wondered if anyone in the store would notice this and find it odd; the place was somewhat busy, even though not many people were in the shoe section with us.

  As Justine turned and took a step to my left to see how the shoes felt to walk in, I shifted myself as if to get up. When she sensed this, though, she stopped and turned her torso back toward me, reaching out with her left hand and simply placing her index finger on the top of my head. I glanced up with my eyes and saw her give two subtle shakes of her head from side to side, wearing the faintest of smiles. No. No getting up, that look said. I settled back into my kneeling position and watched as she continued walking away from me and then back toward me.

  “Well, what do you think?” she asked, rolling her ankles and swiveling her legs to show off the shoes.

  “They look great,” I said. Then I looked up at her. “You look great.”

  She smiled and stroked my cheek as she walked in front of me, once more sitting down. “Next,” she said simply, pointing to another box.

  And so it went. I took the shoes out of their boxes, put them on her feet, then watched her walk around in them. She walked slowly and turned a lot to let me get a good long look at every angle. She wanted me to look at the shoes, of course, but I also knew that she was showing off her body for me, letting me savor the sight, and always managing to walk very close to me and trail her hand across my shoulders or to brush her leg against my chest for the briefest moment as she came back to the chair. I put each pair away in its box when she was finished, and finally we were down to the last pair she had picked. These were red leather Mary Janes, her favorite style of shoe and her favorite color, a rare combination.

  “Don’t you just love them?” she said excitedly, rotating before me.

  “Yes.”

  “And they’re comfortable, too. They don’t pinch or anything.” She sounded genuinely excited.

  “In that case,” I said, “why don’t I buy them for you?”

  “Will you?” she asked, walking toward me. “Oh, you’re such a dear.” She touched my chin with her thumb and forefinger, raising my face and then bending down to kiss me. “Okay. Why don’t you get up and put all the other boxes away. Then bring these in their box over to the perfume section. I’ll be over there trying on some scents.”

  I did all this, and when I found her, she was waving a small strip of white paper in the air. She closed her eyes and sniffed it as I approached. “Mmmm,” she said. “I like that one. What do you think?”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, smiling at the warm and subtle fragrance. It made me think of evenings and candles and quiet dinners for two.

  “Yummy,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to buy this for you, too.”

  “Well, if you feel compelled...” she said with a smile.

  At the cash register, the clerk gave her a whole bag full of other things, free samples of creams and lotions and lipstick and who knows what else. “And what about for you?” the clerk asked, looking at me. “No, thanks,” I said. “I don’t really need anything.” The clerk shrugged, but when I turned to go, Justine said to me: “How about you carry the bags out to the car and wait for me? I just have one more thing to get here.”

  “All right,” I said, wondering slightly. I left the store, found the car, and waited, sitting in the driver’s seat and listening to some music with the windows rolled up. I spaced out a little and was stirred from my reverie by a knocking on the glass. I looked up at the passenger side and saw Justine pointing to the lock. I opened the door for her then, and she got in with another small shopping bag. I wondered what it was, and of course she knew that I was wondering, but I decided not to ask as I drove us back home, preferring to let her unveil whatever mystery she had in store.

  That night, after cooking a delicious dinner and clearing our dishes, Justine whispered in my ear, “Let’s go to the bedroom. I want to put on those shoes again.” Her reasoning didn’t quite make sense to me, and I wasn’t sure why she was whispering, but neither of these things mattered as much as the fact that
we were going to the bedroom.

  “After you,” I said and followed her upstairs, stopping first to turn up the heat, since I thought we might want to be comfortable without clothes on.

  Once in the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed. “The shoes are over there,” she told me, indicating the spot. I walked over and was just about to pick up the box when she suddenly said, “Before you touch that box...”

  I turned to her. “Yes?” I said.

  “Strip,” she demanded.

  It took less than a minute for me to comply. I was always happy to strip for my wife. Once naked, I grabbed the box with the shoes and approached the bed, kneeling and admiring her bare feet. “Now put them on me...” she said, and I did this slowly, caressing her feet as I did it.

  “They look gorgeous on you,” I said.

  “Do you love them?”

  “Yes,” I said, rubbing them, massaging her ankles.

  “Show me.”

  I didn’t quite know what to do, so I bent over and planted a soft kiss on the top of each shoe. I kept caressing her feet as I looked up at her. She raised one eyebrow and said nothing. I gave her feet more kisses, turning them in my hands and planting my lips delicately all over them. I kissed the skin on the top of her feet, exposed by the openness of the Mary Janes, and kissed and licked her ankles. Then I looked up again.

  “No need to stop at the ankles,” she said. I began kissing her calves then, rubbing her legs, licking slowly, and progressing higher. She gave soft sounds of pleased approval as she leaned back in bed. Soon I began sliding my hands upwards under her skirt, feeling the tops of her thighs, alternating my gentle caresses with occasional firm grips on her lovely flesh. As I kissed the insides of her knees, I rolled the skirt up and back, exposing more of her legs, which parted for me slowly. I could smell her arousal as she moaned a little, and I saw the black fabric of her panties as I moved my head forward under the skirt. I spread her legs wider with my hands, kissing my way up the insides of her thighs, then licking around the edges of her underwear. I kissed her through the fabric then, and I felt the dampness on my face. She leaned further back on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows and rolling her hips forward to meet my face, her flesh quivering slightly with desperate desire.

  With my right hand, I reached up and grabbed the wet black fabric until it bunched up; then I moved it aside, delighting in the view of her tender pink petals and the suddenly stronger scent. I touched her with just the tips of a few fingers of my left hand, teasingly, tentatively, giving the softest and lightest strokes. “Oh,” she muttered in a tiny voice, and I heard the bed creak a little as her hips slid further toward me, eager and insistent.

  I thrust out my tongue then and touched her clitoris with the very tip, and she shuddered. I lapped with short strokes, all around the edges of her glistening lips, then with longer licks, slow and steady. Her legs writhed and spread as far as they could. I stuck my tongue inside her then and started slowly fucking her with it, flicking it, twisting it, her freely flowing juices mixing with my saliva to make wet noises under the skirt. “Oh!” she cried. “Ooooo..... Oh! oh oh...”

  She thrust herself hard against my face then and cried out with delight, and I buried myself in her orgasm, drenching my face and licking up all the juice I could get, clutching her thighs and pulling her into me, wanting to be at the very center of her delight. I left my face and my tongue in place until she placed a hand on my head.

  I wiped my face with the back of my forearm as I came out from under the skirt, and she sat back up on the edge of the bed. “Oh, I love you,” she said. “You’re so good to me.”

  “You’re so good to me,” I replied.

  She smiled at this. “The other bag from the store is over there,” she said. I got it and brought it to her. “Open it up,” she said.

  I withdrew a small shoe box tied up with ribbon, a little bow on top. “That’s for you,” she said. I lifted the lid with absolutely no idea of what the surprise could be, but as soon as I saw it, I understood. Inside the box, in the middle of some bunches of colored tissue, was an old-fashioned wooden hairbrush.

  I took it out and put the box down. It was smallish, oval, fairly light, and the polished wood was a dark honey color. I smiled.

  “Now give it to me,” Justine instructed, “and get your naked body over my lap.”

  I hurriedly did as she’d told me to do. Once I was across her lap, she immediately placed her right leg over me, just below my ass, and clamped down. “I’m doing this because I already know you’re going to squirm,” she told me. “I’m just going to keep you still so I can spank you to my heart’s content. And give me those hands. Let’s go; hands behind your back.” I complied at once and felt her take hold of my overlapped wrists. “I’m sure you can break free of my grip,” she said, “but I trust that you won’t do that, will you?”

  “No,” I said with a dry throat.

  Crack! The wood of the brush came down swiftly on my right buttock, and I sucked in my breath.

  “I didn’t quite hear that,” she said. “Say it louder, please. I want to know that you will be good and take your spanking and won’t try to struggle.”

  “I won’t,” I said more loudly.

  Smack! This time it was the left cheek. “Won’t what?” she demanded. “Won’t be good and take your spanking?”

  “No, I won’t struggle,” I said. “I’ll take my spanking.”

  She caressed my buns with the back of the brush. “I should hope so,” she said gently. “I want you to know that I’m not spanking you for anything in particular. You haven’t been bad at all. I’m going to spank you just because I’ve decided to. I’m going to spank you because I want to.”

  Smack! Splat! came two more quick spanks. “Furthermore,” she went on, then gave another smack!, “I’m spanking you because I know you want it.” Smack! “You’re just aching for it, aren’t you?” Crack! Smack! Smack!

  “Ow—yes! I—ouch!—I am!”

  “You are what?” she asked sternly, then gave me a handful of rapid, stinging blows that made we wriggle in spite of my promise to remain still.

  “Ooowwwww....! I’m aching fo—ouch! Ah! Oah-ha-owww! I’m aching for it!”

  “Aching for WHAT!?” (Smack smack spank smack...)

  “Aggh! For a spanking! Ow! Ah!”

  She paused for a moment, lightly running her fingers over my bottom. “Mmmm, your ass is getting nice and pink. But you like that, don’t you?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I said, nodding my head.

  “What was that?” she shouted, giving me the two hardest spanks yet.

  “Yes!” I said through clenched teeth, feeling the burn on my ass. “Yes! I like that!”

  She went back to a softer voice. “And you want more, don’t you? You want your ass to be red, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, panting in the temporary break.

  She began smacking my ass with the brush again suddenly, harder than before, each swat about two seconds apart, making me cry out in pain. God, I loved it!

  “And you enjoy being helpless like this, too, don’t you? You love having your little ass held in place and completely in my power.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, my buns burning terribly. “I love being naked and held down by you and getting my ass paddled. I love it. I love you.”

  “Well, I love you, too!” she said, bringing the brush down again. “Aren’t you a lucky man to have a wife who spanks you?” SWAT!

  “Aaaaaoooouuuch! Yes! I love hav—aghhhh!—having a wi—Ow! OW! Having a wife who—Aaaaahhh!—who spanks me!”

  And she tightened her grip on my wrists and clamped down more firmly with her leg, and the swats kept raining down on my helpless red ass, stinging and burning and turning me on more than I could believe. My dick was straining to spring out in this cramped position, but there was no room, and the pressure in my balls was near the exploding point.

  Justine must have known this, because she eventually
stopped and told me to stand up. I did, wincing with the real pain of her hairbrush spanking, my cock finally jumping up into the air. “And now,” she said, smilingly at me lovingly, “you can come anytime you want.” And she bent forward to engulf the head of my prick with her hot wet mouth.

  In about three seconds, I erupted like a volcano, my huge reservoir of frustrated, teased, and excited come shooting into her waiting mouth in hot bursts, shaking my whole body and making me feel like fainting. After what felt like minutes, as the contractions subsided, I sank to my knees and put my head in her lap, and I started to sob.

  “Hey...” she said, sounding concerned. “Are you okay? Are you crying because I hurt you too much?”

  “No,” I answered as she stroked my head. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

  Untitled

  Chapter 4

  The following Saturday morning, I awoke to the sensation of Justine planting soft kisses on my chest, her head under the blanket. I gave a little groan and wriggled a bit, just to let her know I was awake. She poked her head out from under the blanket then, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, then paused to look at me with her lovely smiling eyes.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi,” I said, running my right hand over her head.

  She dove back under the covers, kissing my chest and stomach, giving me short licks, nibbling my lower abdomen. Her hand slid up my leg then and grabbed my balls lightly, fondling them, my flesh swelling slowly and stiffening at her touch. “Mmmm,” I muttered.

  Then her head worked down to my groin, and I felt her tongue on my balls. I gasped a little at the lovely sensation and at the long licks that trailed up my shaft. I drew in a deep breath as she began tonguing the underside of my glans, rubbing it hard with her moistness, making quick circles with the flat of her tongue. Then I felt myself being sucked, and moaned loudly.

  “Ooohhhh...” I cried as her head bobbed rhythmically, going only about an inch up and down, not swallowing my whole shaft but focusing on moving the head around her mouth. It was delightful, and I closed my eyes and enjoyed it with an open mouth and soft sighs.